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whorety-k · 4 months

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Hello! If you get the inspiration to do so, would you write something with Roboute Guilliman + Gát from Azahriah. I think the song would fit him.

Also on another note, I love Ebony Coasts💜💜 Looking forward to the next part!

Nothing shows my absolutely awful schedule like Ebony Coasts having finished before I even got to your ask my love

I am SO SORRY

I had never listened to anything in Hungarian before this point so this was actually really pleasant for me. This song got me in a mood to destroy that blueberry though, so please forgive me.

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman (40K) x gn!Reader

Song Inspiration: Gát - Azahriah [Youtube] [Spotify]

[Original Hungarian]

“Ezért nincsen bennem már szimpátia /

Elmegyek én bárhova, ha hívnak / Mert érezni akarom, amit régen /

Mert régen tönkrement valami bent / Valami bent, valaki bennem.”

[English Translation]

“That's why there's no sympathy in me /

I go anywhere if they call me / because I want to feel what I felt before /

Because in the past something broke inside / something inside, something in me.”

Warnings: Angst, Guilliman’s struggle to adapt to a new Imperium, relationship falling apart, heated argument, hurt / no comfort

Word Count: 2.5k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1000 OOPS)

The office light was dim, drained of warmth. Roboute could barely keep his eyes focused on his papers anymore, with how each stack continued to mesh and meld together in his mind. A request for aid in the Yannsi system. Reports of ork activity along an Imperial supplyway. Another noble house asking for his audience for a vaguely stupid reason in their horse-and-pony show. With a sigh, he pushed the expensive looking envelope off of the table and into the waste bin.

Guilliman grew tired of it all.

But, in the name of the Imperium, he pushed onwards. Sheet after sheet, datapad after datapad, vox after vox.

He nearly missed the knock that rapped against the frame of the office doorway, timid and gentle. How he hadn’t seen them enter was either a show of focus or a token to his weariness, usually laser-focused senses dulled as day after day of piling issues droned by. Guilliman picks his head up out of his hands, rolling loose circles into his temples with his index and middle fingers. “Come in,” he beckons.

Your quiet footsteps echo in the chamber built to the size of a primarch. The scents of exhaustion and old sweat permeate the air, for even a being handcrafted by the Emperor himself is subject to the soil of exertion.

Guilliman’s eyes soften substantially from their stress-induced glower as you draw near, but it’s not enough to fully smooth the deep-set furrow in his brow, or the everlasting scowl on his face. “My love, has something happened that needs my attention?” he inquires, leaning forward to get a better look at you. You stand before him in your favorite robe: a simple yet practical garment that he had gifted you for a holiday celebration, ultramarine blue silks embroidered with golden laurels along the neckline. He would give you so much more if you didn’t feel so guilty at receiving his affections, always so concerned with any excess spending given the state of the Imperium. He was too— more than you ever could be— but you were supposed to be his space away from the mess. It frustrated him to no end to be reminded of his family’s failings when he was actively trying to find an escape from it, and especially because he shouldn’t have you.

You should have been long dead. After the failed Siege of Terra and the end of the Heresy, Guilliman had found you, a noble agent, desperately working far beyond your capacities within the Imperial Palace to keep things running. A tense friendship blossomed into an awkward, complicated relationship with private moments stolen whenever fate would allow. Neither of you were able or willing to put a label to it, given your pre-existing devotion to fixing the weakened state of the Imperium. Your knowledge of the parties both behind and beyond the Imperial walls proved invaluable to helping the Ultramarines hold it together, and Guilliman could not have been more grateful for your help. Roboute planned to express his gratitude and formally request your hand after your return from a diplomatic mission to help secure support from some of the world less affected by the heresy.

He never got the opportunity to do so. On the return voyage to Terra, your ship had been ambushed and knocked loose of its path in the warp. Your anticipated arrival date had come and passed, and no one heard any word from your vessel. Within an instant, any hope of creating a better future with you had been indirectly or directly ripped from him by his traitorous brothers, just as it had been before.

Roboute thought he had all but moved on by the time he was struck down by Fulgrim, thought had finally shaken the silent longing when he finally awoke from his ten millenia stasis into the disaster the Imperium of Man had become. The hellscape he has been thrust into gave him no time to dwell on any of the things he had lost ten-thousand years ago. It did not matter how hollow or angry he felt when everyone galaxy-wide was demanding something of him, and who better than the Avenging Son to fill the role?

The day the vox came in that a ship with a downright ancient signature had entered Terra’s orbit is one he would never forget. Guilliman was prepared to have it destroyed, certain that the vessel had been overrun with chaos, but the sound of your voice asking for him over the vox channels stopped him. His hearts seized in his chest when you recognized him.

Roboute, is that you?

It’s been years. We just found a way out.

Roboute, can you hear me?

“Roboute.”

His head snaps up from his daze, not noticing how he had begun to nod off, lost in his ruminations. He hadn’t made the mistake of not asking for your hand soon enough a second time. The stern tone of voice alerts him that he’s missed whatever you had said before, and he sits forward again to reengage.. “I’m sorry, love. I am listening,” Roboute says, letting out the breath he had been holding.

You shake your head, gaze falling to the floor for a brief instant before your eyes find his again. “I asked you to come to bed, Roboute. You haven’t left the office for days, and I know you’re tired.” You call attention to his lapse with a gesture of the hand.

Guilliman’s scowl deepens, looking down at the paper before him on his desk. As tempting as that offer was... “I cannot, love. I am sorry.”

“Will there be a day I don’t hear that?” you rebut, stepping closer to his desk. Your head only barely hovers above it as you come near, resting a hand on the varnished wood. “Or shall I keep hoping?”

The primarch scoffs, taken aback at the rhetoric. He didn’t dismiss you that often… did he? His blue eyes burn into yours, expression hardening. “My work is important. It isn’t something I can just stop and abscond from. You know this.”

You fold your arms in response, doubling down. “Are these the conditions in which you can do your best work? Barely able to keep your head up?”

For once, Guilliman can’t argue. His shoulders are tight, his neck tired and sore from staring down at a desk for longer than a baseline human could even stay awake without death. His eyes stopped burning after a certain point, now nearly numb. He tries to blink the feeling away, only to struggle with opening his eyes again.

It doesn’t go unnoticed under your gaze. “Come to bed, Roboute,” you plead, resting your chin upon his desk. Sapphires of the softest cobalt land on you, and you reach a hand out toward him. Your drowsy voice continues, “I hardly ever see you outside of this dreaded space. I don’t remember the last time we shared a bed together.”

His massive hand dwarfs your own when he takes it, stroking the delicate skin of the back of your hand. “I would like to join you– truly, I would– but I cannot afford to step away from this,” Guilliman asserts, voice gentle yet firm in his decision.

Your expression falls, as it always does. Guilliman expects you to nod your head and concede as you normally did, letting go of your hand to pick up a pencil once more. He finds the starting line of the report and begins to peruse the document. The Lord Governor of the—

“When will it be enough?”

Guilliman tenses up, tearing his gaze away from the words he was reading. Your voice completely blindsides him, and he isn’t even sure if he’s certain he heard what you said. “I’m sorry?” he asks.

“When will you have done enough, Roboute?” you repeat, stepping away from the wooden desk. As your full body comes into view, he can see how your limbs tremble with emotion. “When will you have reached a point that you are truly satisfied with what you’ve done?” Your voice comes as a challenge, crossing your arms over your chest once again. Your knuckles blanch with the force you grip yourself with.

It’s the second time you manage to render Guilliman completely speechless. When is enough, enough? He gawks as he looks you over, eyes jumping between your upset form and the page before him. It’s a question he didn’t allow himself to dwell on, unable to find a satisfactory answer. It has been, is, and always will be his responsibility to convert the raw data of a problem into something with a detailed solution; it was his strongest skill as a leader. He can stop when there are solutions.

You interrupt his train of thought with another siren call, holding eye contact as you tempt him away once more with your sweet voice. “Your standards you hold yourself to are honorable, but even the great Roboute Guilliman, son of the Emperor of Mankind, requires his rest.”

And by the throne, he does. He well and truly does. Guilliman could use another ten thousand years in stasis if it wouldn’t make his problems any worse. Instead, though, he’s content to finish one more paper and go to bed. Finally, he nods, pushing aside a stack of documents to start tomorrow. It seems that Roboute would be the one conceding today, muttering, “I will join you shortly.”

Unfortunately for him, you aren’t having any of it. “No, you will come now,” you demand, putting your foot down. You continue, stern tone softening, “Please, if not for you, take care of yourself for me.”

The words make Guilliman’s head throb, irritation threatens to flare within him as the words cause an uncomfortable roiling within his chest. He buries his head into his hands with a grunt– it’s all he can do to prevent an annoyed growl of, “everything I do is for you,” from leaving him. Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to cool his temper. “This final document is just a report from another world. It won’t take me long,” he promises.

“Then it can wait until tomorrow,” you argue, fed up with the barrage of excuses to continue. “I am serious, Roboute. One world’s ‘report’ is not the end-all, be-all of the Imperium. I know that you are under a lot of strain to fix the mess we’re in–”

Guilliman abruptly sits up, chair flying back as he stands to full height. You can barely perceive the flash movement before the clash of the chair hitting the wall makes you jump. “And you could possibly hope to understand?” Guilliman spits, slamming his hands onto the table. The shout of the primarch instinctually drowns you in dread, and you’re unable to stop the reflexive trembling that kicks in as you stare up at him. Guilliman is furious, all of the signs of exhaustion he had exhibited so plainly before replaced with vitriol. He continues, voice laced with venom, “You could hope to understand what it is to be left with the bloated corpse of my father’s legacy, forced to pick up the pieces as nothing but a tool in his stead as everything he fought for has been so thoroughly perverted? When the mere thought of how things were before is now heresy, despite those fanatics worshiping a book written by a traitor?” His breathing labors, desk creaking precariously with the force he’s exerting upon it. At your lack of response, Guilliman scoffs again. “No,” he growls, turning away, “your mind couldn’t begin to fathom the depths of the pressure placed upon me.”

Your eyes burn with tears, cheeks warm and wet. The outburst leaves you completely shaken, clutching at your sides like a cornered animal. The sight alone fills Roboute with remorse, but you don’t give him the chance to apologize. “I was there,” you utter through shaky breaths. Roboute’s mouth clamps shut. “I lived the old Imperium, picked up the pieces of it beside you. Do you think this has been easy for me?” you press, unable to look the primarch in the eye. “I spent five years in the warp, unsure of whether or not I would ever leave it. Would I die there? Would I find a fate worse? What if one of your brothers was to find me?” Each word punches him in his chest, hearts heavy with the weight of instant regret. He can see how you tremble as you relive what you went through, all at the cost of his loud mouth. “I never gave up, even when so many others had, driven to insanity or the depths of depression. I continued to fight when even the Astartes had one-by-one resigned themselves to fate.” Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and you begin to find confidence in your words as your fear turns into rage, jabbing an accusatory finger in Guilliman’s direction. “I survived to find you again, and I have done nothing but stand by your side and help you try to make heads or tails of the absolute fucking mess we’re in. Does that mean nothing?”

Guilliman doesn’t look away from you as you verbally lash into him. Despite his pride, he knows you’re right. You haven’t truly been wrong once this evening, and in his stubbornness, he has only managed to make everything worse for the both of you. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Of course you didn’t, because you’ve only been thinking about yourself and what will become of you. Will your torment ever end?” you spit back, cutting him off. He bows his head, lips drawn tight. Tense silence fills the room as your words hang heavy in his mind. You shake your head, letting out a muffled sob. “I will be in the bedroom when you remember yourself, Roboute Guilliman.”

With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving Guilliman alone in the office with his thoughts. He can only stare at the doorway before the rush of the moment leeches out of him, causing him to slump down into his chair. Guilt claws in his chest, up his throat like an angry badger. His head spins as it fills with everything he should have said, should have done, instead of making a damned fool of himself. The rift between the two of you grew evermore.

Guilliman picks up his pencil from the floor, drawing the planetary report in front of him so he can focus again on the only thing he’s actually sure he’s worthy of anymore: fixing logistics.

#roboute guilliman #roboute guilliman x reader #guilliman x reader #ultramarines #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #primarch #primarch x reader #warhammer fanfic #raven lady writings

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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after mr devil's merry chrimas

i raise yall bandit gang's "merry crimes", with sheriff reader as their unwilling santa

"Get back here!"

Frigid laughter soars through the empty streets as you chase the lone bandit through the streets. Your lungs burn, vision blurred from the cold; your energy sapped from single handedly pursing the criminals suspect in a long string of crimes throughout the day. Fatigue on the verge of catching up to you, you push past it and continue your pursuit - fueled by rage and the exhaustion itself. One of the few times you get time off, and today of all days was when your troublesome admirers decided to pull out all the stops. Once you caught this last crook - you're sure to give them all hell.

The bandit snickers as they speed ahead.

"Come on now, Sheriff. I know you can do better than that! If you catch me soon, I might even kiss ya."

The taunt has your blood pressure sky rocketing. You bolt around the corner to catch up to the bandit, your feet sliding on the frozen streets. They pause hearing your exclamation of surpise, sprinting off when you fix yourself off and continue the chase. Your surroundings become increasingly familiar the further you go, but you're too trained on them to notice. It's not till they barrel straight through the jail doors that you catch on.

"You bold little shit." Your steps slow as you climb the steps of the building. You open the door, easing it to a close behind you to avoid drawing attention. The room is silent and lights turned; the creaks of your shoes against the floorboards the only sound. You specifically remembered leaving them on after giving the new deputy a few words of advice. Did they get cold feet already? Eyes adjusting to the fuzzy shapes of the shadows along the wall, you make out a distinct shape in the middle of the room.

"Is... that a tree?"

"Now."

Laughter comes from behind you, the heavy bang of a lock against the wooden doors ringing in your ears. In the brief moment between your last seconds of freedom and imprisonment, two figures creep behind you. One holding you still, while the other wrapped you in festive string. Blinded by the dark and the element of surpise, you're left helpless as you're forced into a chair and wheeled across the floor. The lights flicker on as a foot halts your flight; the final member of the group joining the fray as the bandits gather around you.

"Happy holidays, Sheriff."

"Oh god-" Your jaw clenches; unsure whether to fall onto the floor or yell obscenities at the mischievous, yet lovestruck gang. As you had pieced out, a tree stood in the center of the room; branches crooked from being forced through the jail's unfit opening. The various stolen goods you had yet to return hide beneath it. A closet door rattles with each shuttering bang against it; muffled sobs washed away by the commotion around you. Finding your worse, you utter.

"Is... is that the damn tree from the hospital?"

The leader of the bunch removes their boot from the wheel of your chair. "Well, not like they were using it."

You struggle against your binds. "Alright, you had your fun. Let me out of here."

"Aw Sheriff, Sheriff-" They coo. "You wound us. Here we were planning this whole party for you, and you want to leave so soon. We got all these nice gifts for you too. You haven't even tried Hex's eggnog yet. Made it special for ya and its damn good."

"They're stolen."

They chuckle. "Stolen- that words overused nowadays. We're just giving this junk a new, better home. One that actually deserves it. You've given the entire world so many wonderful gifts so it's time it gives back, and we're going make sure that happens after we get the last one of ours."

The bandit drops a red hat over the one you already wore; brushing its tip out of your face as they crouch in front of you. The color drains from your seeing the little plant taped to it.

"Lookin' good there, Santa. Looks like I'll go first." The bandit plants a small kiss to your cheek, grinning against your skin.

#Sheriff reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #Yandere bandit #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #Yandere bandits

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lokigayforhela · 2 years

Note

Can you please continue with the Hela and pet who she drains power from story I think that it is pretty interesting so far and I would like to read more

WC: 3440

TW: A scene that is assault-coded, but no sexual assault happens.

Rating: PG

AN: ...surprise! Here’s a holiday present you probably weren’t expecting. I hadn’t really put a lot of effort into coming up with a real sequel for the original story, but I guess inspiration hit. And it hit well, because this will (brain- and time-willing) have four more parts after this. Enjoy!

You spent most of the next day dozing off and on in a meager attempt to replenish your energy. You didn’t need the sun to gain your energy back. You didn’t think you did, at least, because sometimes you could feel better without going outside at all. It was just that the sun, or maybe it was the fresh air even, seemed to speed the process along. Give you back your energy in a much more timely manner.

You’d lost track of how long exactly you’d been on Hela’s warship. You knew it had been months, only because Hela had said so herself, but you didn’t know how many. It was hard enough to tell time when you were in space, but to be locked away in a prison cell without any windows was a new level of disorientation that you hadn’t been able to adjust yourself to quite yet. In fact, you weren’t even sure if you truly had been sleeping all day, or if you’d just slept through the night, or if you’d perhaps even slept all night and into the next, as well. Hela hadn’t come back to visit, at least that you were aware of, though, so you mustn’t have been sleeping for too long.

You turned over so that you were lying on your back on your stiff little cot and looked up at the pale grey metal of the ceiling above you, unsure what exactly you were hoping to see in the blankness of it. Groggily, you let your eyes drift over to the steady, if dim, light coming from the fixture in the middle of the room. It didn’t really do much by way of actually lighting the room, but it was enough so that you weren’t trapped in darkness which, you mused, would have been even more frustrating than not being able to tell night from day or count how long you’d been a prisoner.

Yes, you were grateful for the light, poor as it was, just as you were grateful for the terribly hard cot and the blanket that seemed more hole and string than blanket and the scraps of food the guards brought you.

Could be a lot worse, you reminded yourself, tilting your head to look at the barred door, where you noticed a distinct lack of food left for you, which meant either the guards hadn’t brought you anything yet or had opted not to, as you were asleep.

As far as you were concerned, at this point that was more of a blessing than a curse. When Hela had first brought you with her, the guards had been firmly instructed not to come into your cell for anything, or even to come near you at all, but the longer you’d been on the ship, the more curious they had become, and with that curiosity came a disregard for the rules Hela had set. They had been pushing their limits more and more lately, making you come to the door for your food instead of leaving it for you, or even threatening to come into the cell a few times, and it wasn’t that you were scared of them, but you couldn’t help the wariness that settled in your chest every time they acted out a little more boldly.

In a manner of speaking, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Whenever and however that might be.

The sound of distant footsteps drawing closer brought you out of your silent reverie and you pushed yourself up on your elbows a bit, if only to prove to whoever was coming down that you were awake and present, to some degree. The last dregs of sleepiness were still clinging to you, after all, and the energy draining-induced exhaustion had still yet to go away.

You were surprised to find that it was Hela who came to a halt at your cell, and you perked up the slightest bit, hoping that she was here to tell you that the ship was docking somewhere and that you’d be able to come out with her and finally spend some time outside and not surrounded by four walls of metal and locks.

“Oh. Sweet girl, you’re finally awake. You’ve been asleep for three days now, you know. I’d ordered everyone not to bother you, so you could try and recharge, as it were.” She smiled pleasantly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not entirely. “I’m glad you’re awake, though. That means I don’t have to leave this.” She raised a small scrap of parchment paper, which she began to fold into quarters and tucked away into a pocket as she continued. “We’ve made port on Xandar. We’ll be here for a little while, so I was thinking maybe if you’re good while I’m away on some quick business, then when I get back, you can come out with me for a walk. Just for a little bit.”

The initial shock of learning you’d been asleep for three days now wearing off, you perked up at the news, nodding and hoping that the gesture didn’t come off as desperate as you felt. “I’d like that very much, Hela.” You just barely managed to stop yourself from using her title again. “Do you… Need a little boost before you go?”

Hela smiled, and this time you could see it in her eyes, if only briefly. “No, sweetling. I’ll be alright. Besides, there’ll be time for that when you’re feeling a little more… replenished.”

You nodded, and sat yourself up properly so that you could face her. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior down here, and when you let me go out with you, too.”

Hela bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I know you will.” With that out of the way, she clasped her hands together in front of her. “Now. I should only be gone for a few hours, but I’ll send for some guards to bring you something to eat now that you’re awake, yes?”

You fought to keep your expression even as you nodded, but Hela, ever perceptive, noticed anyway.

“Is something the matter, sweet girl?”

You smiled, and hoped you looked convincing. “No.”

Hela narrowed her eyes, and looked at you with an intensity that left you struggling not to shy underneath it. “And you would tell me if there was. Yes?”

She said it in a way that left you uncertain if she was leaving you with an option. “Yes. I’m just… hungry. I’ve been asleep for a long time, as you said.”

Hela didn’t seem entirely convinced, but nodded. “…just so. I’ll be down as soon as I return.”

You only nodded again, and Hela, seeming satisfied with that, turned and took her leave, and you slumped back down on the bed, feeling drained all over again, despite the fact that she hadn’t been near enough to take from your energy.

No, this was a different sort of a drain, and you weren’t entirely sure that sun and fresh air was something that would help with that.

~~~~~~~~~~

You busied yourself with making your bed and fluffing your thin pillow while you waited for either your food to come or Hela to return. In all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure which would happen first, despite Hela giving the orders to the guards herself, but in any case, it was better for you to be prepared regardless.

You had undone and remade the bed another ten times out of sheer boredom before you finally heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall again, and you made yourself stand, just in the off chance that it was Hela returning already. To your dismay, however, it was a pair of guards that came into view at the door to your cell, Hela still gone attending to whatever her business was here.

“Finally awake, huh?” one of the guards questioned, sharing a glance with his partner before continuing. “The Commander must be really wearing you out down here, huh?”

The other guard snickered, and you tried not to blush at the insinuation, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to both appear as standoffish as you could manage and to give yourself something to do so that you weren’t thinking about how exhausted you still were.

“It isn’t like that,” you finally countered after a moment of silence, fixing them each with your best glare.

“Right, I’m sure it’s not. If it were, she’d keep you in her chambers with her, wouldn’t she? Instead she keeps you locked away here, like an animal.”

“Won’t even share your supposed powers with those of us who help her with her dirty work.” The other guard shook his head in a mockery of disappointment, giving a quiet tsk. “You’d think for all we do for her, she’d want to keep us in good health, too.”

“And what is it you do for her exactly?” You said the words before you could stop yourself, but when they gave you a reproachful glance, you found yourself gaining a small bit of courage. “I mean, she’s the Goddess of Death, right? The Commander. The way I see it, you’re likely just along for the ride, at this point. Like the strings of a puppet, except you’ve been cut and are simply… hanging slack while she performs.”

You could tell from the way their gazes hardened that you had struck a chord, and that it had been a terrible mistake.

“Big talk from little more than a pet.” The first guard looked over at the second, and then back in the direction they came from before setting down the tray of food he’d been holding the whole time. “What do you say, Nils? Shall we see if there’s any truth to the whole idea this little girly can replenish energy?”

“I was thinking exactly that, Dag. You go first. I’ll keep watch here.” He took the keys off of his belt and tossed them to Dag, who caught them and started rifling through them as you took a step back, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to anticipate just what exactly they were going to do with you.

“Aw, don’t be shy, sweetheart. We’re just trying you out, as it were. See if the rumors are true.” Dag had finally got the door open and made his way into the cell, closing the door behind him so you couldn’t make a run for it.

“You know they are,” you countered, backing yourself into the furthest corner as he came closer. “You think Hela would lie about that?”

“Hela, huh? On a first-name basis with her, are you? And you say it’s not ‘like that.’” He scoffed out a laugh, taking another step forward, so that he was close enough that you could feel your energy starting to dwindle, pulling away from you like tendrils of smoke from a flame.

You thought you might pass out, but your fight or flight instinct had kicked in, and you swung your arm at him, intending to punch him like your father had taught you, but you moved too slowly in your weakened state, and he caught your wrist as soon as you raised it, and the tendrils became like great ropes, pulling your energy out with so much force that your vision began to go black around the edges as you struggled to get out of his grip.

“Sh… That’s it. No need for a fight.” Dag kept his grip on your arm, and you tried as best you could to pull away, but you were tired, and your vision was swimming, colors fading into blacks and whites and greys as you fought to keep conscious, and for a brief, scary moment, you felt your powers flicker. As if they were shorting out under the constant use without respite, but the next moment, that feeling had faded, and you looked up at Dag as he spoke again. “I’m sure the Commander won’t mind us testing you out for ourselves.”

“Won’t she?”

The sound of Hela’s voice echoed around you in the cell, and suddenly you were dropped as if you were a hot coal, and you collapsed onto your bed, struggling to keep your eyes open if only to see how Hela was going to handle this.

“Commander, it’s not what it looks like,” Dag tried, putting himself in the corner most opposite of where Hela stood at the door to your cell. Nils was nowhere to be seen.

“And what do you think it looks like? Hm?” Hela drawled, an eyebrow quirked as she leveled him with such an intense gaze that you heard him give an audible whimper. When he said nothing further, Hela cleared her throat, crossing her arms firmly over her chest as she tilted her head slightly, a look that could only be described as predatory. Dangerous. “Go on, then. I’m waiting.”

“Commander, I-I… Ah… I-I…”

“You, you, you what?! What did you think was going to happen when I found out what was going on down here? Did you think Y/N wouldn’t have told me what had happened if I hadn’t walked in on you taking advantage of her?”

“Th-that’s not-”

“That is exactly what happened!” Hela’s voice seemed to fill the entire room; a great, booming sound that you couldn’t help but to feel glad you weren’t on the receiving end of. “You dare lie in the face of your own Commander?” Her angry glare gave way to a somehow softer expression that would have looked remorseful if you hadn’t been able to tell that whatever she was going to say next was going to cut deeply. “After everything I’ve done for you. Shame.” She gave a flick of her wrist, and an obsidian blade slid into her palm effortlessly. She gripped it tightly as she reached forward to pull the door to the cell open. “Your… error in judgment will be the last you ever make.”

No sooner had she finished the sentence did she give a quick, if graceful, extension of her arm, and the sword she had been holding flew across the room and lodged itself in the guard’s chest and he fell to the floor, dead in an instant.

It all happened so quickly that you were still staring in awe by the time you were aware Hela had turned to face you. “Darling, are you hurt?” When you gave no answer, she tried again, hardening her voice just enough that you couldn’t ignore her again. “Y/N.”

You turned your head to look at her, your exhaustion momentarily pushed to the back of your mind.

“Did he hurt you?” There was an edge to her voice that you didn’t quite understand. One that didn’t quite match with the anger you could still hear lacing her tone and burning in her eyes. It made you shiver for reasons you couldn’t quite comprehend.

“N-No. No, I… Well, yes, he… He drained me quite a bit, and I… Well, I was still feeling so tired, as it was, and now… But he didn’t… physically harm me, no.” You tried to push yourself up into a sitting position, but your arms were shaking with fatigue, and you were keenly aware of Hela watching you all the while.

“You need to eat.” She glanced back at the tray of food that had been dropped on the floor outside of your cell, and that was when you realized the other guard lay dead on the other side of the bars, as well. “Not any of these scraps. Real food. Come.” She held the door open, and you looked at it and then to her, not quite realizing what she was asking of you. “Y/N.” Her voice was much softer now, and it confused you and soothed you in a way that didn’t make sense. “Come.”

You nodded, and pushed yourself to your feet with effort. You were still very weak, and while your vision was slowly turning back to normal, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up like this. But you also knew that Hela was going to baby you no further, and so you made your feet work, taking one step at a time as Hela backed up with you. It took you a few moments to realize that she was keeping space between you so that she didn’t take any further energy from you. A small kindness that you were grateful for.

You continued like this all the way up the staircase and up into the main area of the ship. There was a window next to you, and you allowed yourself the opportunity to look outside at the ships that were whirring by and coming and going from the other ports around you. You’d never seen the Nova Corps ships in person before, and they were mesmerizing to watch.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Hela said after a moment, and you felt a little shy at being caught staring. “Like shooting stars.”

“Mm.” You turned around just in time to see Hela taking a basket from a servant and dipping her head in a slight nod before she looked back to you.

“I promised you some time off the ship.”

You couldn’t help the grateful smile that spread across your face, and you nodded, shuffling after her. “Thank you. Your highness, thank you.” You knew you were pushing your luck by not calling her by her name, as she’d asked you, but you wanted to keep appearances up in front of others, and Hela seemed to acknowledge this.

“Go on. After you.” Hela gestured to the entryway to the ship, which had been let down to provide a ramp down to the ground, and, after offering her another brief smile, you carefully made your way down and outside.

The warmth of the sun enveloped you in such an all-encompassing way that you came to a hard stop, closing your eyes as you reveled in the feel of it. Just as you’d hoped, you could feel your strength coming back to you, slowly but surely, and you kept your eyes closed, lips curling into a relieved smile as you began to feel more and more like yourself.

“That must feel wonderful, sweet girl. I’ve never seen you smile like that.” Hela’s voice was closer than it had been, but you could tell she was still keeping enough distance from you that you could properly come back to yourself. “…I should have let you come out sooner. It would have been better for you. Us.” She corrected herself so quickly that you couldn’t think much on what she’d said, and you only shrugged a shoulder.

“…I did try to tell you.” You hoped saying as much wasn’t going to earn you any more conflict than you’d already had today. You didn’t think you could handle any more trouble than that.

“…yes,” Hela said after a moment, with that same edge to her voice that you couldn’t quite understand, and you turned to look at her, but her expression was set and neutral. “Sit. I’ve put a blanket out. You eat and I’ll stay over here.” She perched herself on a rock and watched you as you began to eat, too hungry to feel embarrassed at your ravenous eating.

A comfortable silence settled over the both of you, and it lingered long after you had finished eating and you sat leaned back on your palms, face tilted toward the sky. You were keenly aware that Hela was watching you, but there was a small part of you that liked being watched like this, and so you said nothing about it.

“…you’re sure he didn’t hurt you?” Hela finally said after a while, and you opened your eyes to see the faintest hint of concern in her expression, despite her obvious efforts to hide it.

“Yes, but… Something… happened. Something felt weird for a moment.”

Hela’s brow furrowed. “In what way?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like my powers… fizzled, for a moment. Like I was drained so much that I simply… had nothing else to give. It was only for a moment. I’ve always wondered what would happen. If I just… didn’t have the energy to give any more. If I just… stop, or if I… die, or… what happens.”

Hela said nothing, but an unreadable expression crossed over her face. “You’ll never have to know.” She looked away from you then, and turned her face to the sky, as well. “I’ll make sure of it.”

#Hela x reader #Hela Odinsdottir x reader #Hela #Hela Odinsdottir #Marvel #drama #angst #Power Source au #anonymous #ask #answered #thank you for the prompt!

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cheesus-doodles · 3 years

Note

Idk if you reply but the ask is open, if it’s not and I would like to apologize but if it is then lemme tell you the idea that’s been bugging my mind. Platonic Yandere Toman with a darling that can leap through time, like straight up time travel. But unlike Takemitchi, there is no current ‘her’ that could be in autopilot mode like in the timeline where she left, she straight up disappears and just arrive in the future where she have been missing for years with no trace.

sdlkfjnskdjnfsd time leaper anon! we're finally here!! after 3 drafts and over 3 months i made it (almost) on time! admittedly, i didn't manage to write as much as i originally hoped to, but that's all right too - there's always the next chapter hohoho ;) also as usual, i didn't proofread because that was a lie, so i'll be doing minor corrections along the way.

early Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas to everybody!

‎‎

Recommended Reading: A Friend In Me

Masterlist

tw: yandere, afab reader

‎

Going Home: Chapter 1

Yandere Platonic Toman

“Fuck fuck fuck -” Hurtling round yet another corner of the seemingly endless maze of dark and narrow alleyways that winded every which way behind Shibuya’s glitz and glamorous main streets, the sound of his racing heart rang and echoed between his ears was still not enough to drown out the roars of men calling out to find him, their pounding footsteps drawing closer even as his own desperately tried to carry him further. Even when the occasional ring of gunfire and bullets biting into the brick walls - a fate he was sure awaited him should they catch up - died away on the orders barked out by a familiar voice, one that cut easily through the chaos, that didn’t reassure Takemichi in the slightest. After all, he knew very well it wasn’t him they were concerned about hitting. The already harsh grip he had on your clammy hand only tightened as the black-haired man forced you to move your jelly legs at his unbearable pace lest you be dragged along, the stretch of brick wall flashed past you at a dizzying speed. “Come on, we gotta move!”

“Tak-Takemichi. I can’t.” Said man only pressed on, your soft, tired mutter lost in his tailwind. The smell of rotting food and stagnant drains that was whipped up as the two of you raced past didn’t help much with your already shallow breathing, but all you could do was alternate between hacking and gagging, struggling to catch a break at the brutal pace set by the other, a pace that usually wouldn’t even have you miss a beat. Yet under just the dim remnant light that radiated down to street level from the overhanging apartments, the sheen of sweat that had built up on your brow would have been clear to anyone that could spare you a glance, the beads of perspiration leaving you shivering as it trickled down to frame your ashen face.

Head whipping left and right at every junction, a life-and-death decision that loomed over as every second ticked on, Takemichi was too caught up in the moment to notice your growing weariness as the desperation for an escape - somewhere to hide, somewhere to rest, anywhere but here - overwhelmed him, the labyrinth of similar back alleys and deadends mocking his every move, eating away at his mind.

Every single future, every possible timeline, they were all converging for reasons beyond both Naoto and him, though the one thing they were positively certain of was that you were somehow at the center of it all. It had always been you.

A few more minutes of unrelenting running was the limit of your fading strength, and a weak tug was his only warning before your legs finally gave way beneath you, the sudden dead weight weighing down one arm almost tripping the other if not for you freeing your hand from his grip. Spinning around, Takemichi could only watch in horror as you collapsed onto the ground, a flower petal wrenching free and drifting ever so gently towards the ground. The exhaustion that you had been bravely fighting, that permeated every pore of your body, was now as clear as the break of dawn in a never ending night to your partner, those gentle eyes he knew that were once full of life and fondness now completely glazed over. But time marched on uncaringly, the voices and his very uncomfortable fate drawing closer with every tick of his cheap watch.

“Run, ‘Michi.” The quiet mumble was carried by a gentle draft that floated it above the unfolding turmoil, yet the unspoken implication that came with your two simple words lingered in the air.

It was never supposed to end like this; not with your panting figure left behind on the filthy ground slowly blurring until you finally vanished from view as Takemichi scrambled round another corner. When he and Naoto first found hope in his time-leaping abilities, the chance at a better future, the last thing they had wanted was to drag in yet another innocent party - to involve you of all people. Lifting one arm to hurriedly wipe at the sweat pouring from his forehead, the man only realized that far from being sweat, it was the hot, fat tears, the same ones that now burned his cheeks as they welled up and tumbled free, that had been blurring his vision and stinging his eyes, though he didn’t have any time to waste on that, the rampage of feet resounding across every wall of this cursed network of alleys failing to end despite him now being all alone.

Sprinting past a row of doors that that he vaguely recalled as back entrances to various shops and restaurants, the fatigue that had been steadily building and weighing down his legs was all but certain to jeopardize his escape when a sharp, abrupt wretch had Takemichi flying off his feet sideways. The inky black that swallowed him whole was barely a comfort in his final minutes, yet the few moments were long enough to have his life - his regrets - flash before his eyes, and the one memory that stood out left, right and center being a throwback to how he first found himself embroiled knee-deep in this mess.

‎

“Listen, Takemichi.”

The evening sunlight that flooded through drawn curtains and gently danced its way around the studio apartment to the rustling of the foliage outside, reflecting off polished wooden shelves and worn counters, was a sharp contrast from the severity that underlied those two words from Naoto, the detective looking worriedly serious with his head perched atop clasped hands. And that was all it took to earn Takemichi’s full attention, his ramblings on the past that had been freely pouring from his mouth instantly coming to a complete stop, jaw snapping shut with a click. “I don’t know what you changed in the past, but this future - it's different. Not better, worse.”

Having woken up back in the video rental store despite seeing neither head nor tail of Kisaki, this time employed as a manager instead of a lowly staff member, Takemichi had been inclined to believe the best had happened - that he had somehow managed to prevent Hina’s future death, that this was the better future. Yet unbeknownst to him, the few moments he took to adjust back to the present, one so far removed from the life he led just a couple of minutes prior, were also only the few moments where the current timeline did indeed seem brighter. One quick search was all it took to bring his whole world crashing back down around him, the small, painfully bright screen of his old cell only reflecting the exact same tragic fate for his former girlfriend, a destined death that she seemed to be unable to escape from. That he seemed to be unable to change. At least Naoto’s face peering in through dusty glass doors, one hand lifted to cover the glare of the afternoon sun, was somewhat of a relief to see - a reminder that Takemichi wasn’t alone in this.

“Toman?” Takemichi ventured.

Naoto only seemed to look even grimmer in the shadow of dusk, the dark of the night creeping across the sky outside casting an ominous shadow over his eyes, the squeak of rubber against worn wood as the detective’s laptop was turned to face the other failing to break the tension that hung heavy in the air. “Toman no longer exists. Only Bonten.”

Takemichi's brow only seemed to crease further and further as Naoto briefly ran through Bonten's portfolio of crimes, the images that flashed across the small screen telling a brutal and savage story far from what he knew from the past. Heinous crimes with graphic details, countless lives touched and ruined, unspeakable devastation, yet all the police could legally say was that they had no hard evidence tying the horrendous torment Takemichi was witnessing to the movements of the shadowy organization. “As far as we know, Bonten emerged from the remnants of Toman after that gang fell apart. At the present moment, we can’t even say for sure who the executives are.”

“And Mikey?”

The deepening grimace was all too telling. “We think that he may be the boss given that he was the head of Toman, but it’s only a guess. No pictures, no evidence, nothing.”

The silence that fell over the small studio apartment was far from comforting but necessary - it must be hard for Takemichi to accept that this was their current reality, given that the past he just returned from seemed so much greener.

Yet Naoto had no chance to prepare himself, even with the minute of silence, when the next thing to tumble out from Takemichi’s lips was your name, him whirling around the next instant to see his stunned face reflected in those clear blue eyes. A few seconds had merrily ticked by on his old wall clock before Naoto finally realized why Takemichi wasn’t answering him; his questions trapped in the confines of his brain as his lips only mouthed the thoughts that raced through his mind. Taking a deep breath and pulling himself together, Naoto tried once more, with one question standing out right, left and center at the forefront of his mind. “Where did you hear that name?” The detective demanded, though the brief loss of his usual collectedness was lost on the other.

Furrowed eyebrows set into a concentrated expression, one that had overtaken Takemichi’s face as the curious memory of you surfaced, quickly gave way to a quizzical one, gaze lifting to meet the detective’s troubled eyes. “She was with Mikey-kun and Draken-kun at the fight three days ago.”

Even with the remnant heat of what had been a burning afternoon still lingering in the small studio, the former delinquent still shivered with the recollection of the sheer brutality put on show that day - it might have been in the unreturnable past at this point, but knowing that he had to go back and face the duo again did not bode well for both his physical and mental wellbeing.

Grasping the edge of his dining table turned office desk, Naoto found himself falling back into his chair, his legs no longer able to take his weight despite just the few minutes he’s been on his feet, the wheels of the well-worn office chair squeaking as it rolled backwards slightly under the force. One hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, annoyance welling up in his chest against his better judgment - that name again. It was always your bloody name that popped up in his reports.

But lost in his thoughts on your soft gaze and kind smile, Takemichi failed to notice the growing weariness and annoyance in the younger Tachibana sibling at having to yet again take you into his considerations and equations. “Toman shouldn’t have turned out this way, not with her there.”

All he received was a despondent sigh from Naoto, the light ring of the wind chime that hung outside his living room combined with the final choir of bird chirps erupting from outside his window signaling the coming of the night, as he replaced his hand on the familiar wooden tabletop, fingers now tapping out an unrecognizable rhythm. This whole mess they were in, he wouldn’t be surprised if it really just boiled down to you. It seemed like it was always you at the end of every road. “Why not you fill me in on what happened in the past first?”

Another sigh, this time escaping from Takemichi’s lips, filled the silence as the last dying rays of sun disappeared beyond the horizon. “Is that really important right now?”

“More so than you think. Start from when Sano Manjiro showed up.”

Takemichi slumped back into the chair, its joints creaking and groaning from the impact, giving his messy mob of hair a ruffle - even if his showdown with Kiyomasa was now in the unreturnable past, and the bruises and wounds had long faded from his body twelve years on, it had really just been yesterday for him. The thought of having to recall that dreadful period of his life once more was enough to make him shudder, but still he started. “Right, so I was getting the shit beaten out of me -”

‎

“Oy Kiyomasa.” The sky had been clear blue, the wind blowing in from open water cool and gentle as it kissed his sweaty, filthy skin, the gorgeous weather a complete contrast to the hell that Takemichi has just been through. Yet even in his battered and bruised state, barely able to see out of swollen black eyes that he couldn’t remember acquiring, the sight of an exceptionally tall figure - Toman’s Vice Captain Draken, or so he heard Yamagishi exclaimed from across the makeshift arena - casually strolling in his direction was more intimidating than Kiyomasa could have ever hoped to look. “You’re scaring the crowd.”

Then Mikey - Sano Manjiro himself - appeared, and the atmosphere was somehow electrified even further. Deep bows, Kiyomasa getting a foot to his stomach, Takemichi could hardly process what had happened before he found himself fallen over quaking, the Toman President face to face with him. It was hard to believe his luck, his rotten luck that is, with Mikey instantly declaring him his new friend upon butchering his name. Or maybe it had been bitch, the ringing in his ears from his previous beating preventing Takemichi from making out what exactly was said. Though even at this point, as Mikey stood from where he had been all but squatted over him, when Takemichi thought he was finally free and that his part had been played, the heavens disagreed - they didn’t seem quite done with their goal of making his life as miserable as possible.

“Mikey? Ken-chin?”

Mikey swung around, Takemichi just catching a glimpse of the confusion that briefly flashed in the other’s empty eyes. And your name came tumbling out of the Toman President’s lips in a bewildered mutter, almost as if he was equally as baffled to see your delicate figure as Takemichi was, the same draft that rustled your brown paper bag that hung off one arm floating your name and dispersing it across the otherwise silent area. More surprising to Takemichi was the unsettling pulse of deep bows that promptly radiated outwards, row upon row of the same rowdy delinquents that had minutes ago had been cheering as Takemichi kissed the pavement again and again now a muted crowd folded in half, eyes turned towards the ground with arms folded neatly behind their backs, shaking with either effort or fear Takemichi couldn’t say. Whether it was either or, one thing that shone through as clear as the light of the sun that reigned the afternoon sky, the same sun whose rays glimmered in your gently blown hair, was that every person present had something to fear from you.

He doubted that it was your fighting prowess, not with how soft your figure was or how glass-like your hands looked. And Takemichi knew that he probably shouldn’t be staring jaw dropped as you slowly closed the distance between you and your friends - even the Mizo Middle Five having disappeared among the mass of third years, Yamagishi probably having the sense to force Suzuki’s and Yamamoto’s head down with him. With Mikey very obviously turning to scan the crowd with those intimidating black eyes, that was probably the right move, thought Takemichi, yet he couldn’t quite seem to turn his gaze, his body stubbornly frozen in place despite his mind all but screaming for him to just move.

In that moment, there was no worse decision that Kiyomasa could have made as the light tap of your shoes against the cement pavement neared him, the realization of who you were setting in only after his eyes swung up to meet your large doe ones. But it was too late to change course, Draken having caught the curious glimpse he chanced at you, and in a blink, the air changed. No words were exchanged, no words needed to be exchanged, the fury that sparked and raged behind the Vice Captain’s eyes enough to scare the living daylight out of Takemichi, let alone the force of the punch that met Kiyomasa’s face. Far beyond the impact of the kick from earlier that already had the boy doubled over, which now seemed more and more like a mere chastise for his disrespect towards Mikey, this round was a full-on curb stomp, the crunch of bone mixing with cries of pain rising in a chilling orchestra had every delinquent’s hair standing on ends Kiyomasa was sent flying, head whipping backwards as he crashed bodily into the same railings where Takemichi had previously found his own face smashed against.

Though there was no rest for the wicked, his bully from another life being dragged up from where he was slumped and panting by his hair to meet Draken’s eyes, with no amount of prying able to make a dent in the Vice Captain’s forceful single-handed grip. “So you really think you’re god today, huh? Should I get on my fucking knees?” Draken drawled out, but it was a question that he wasn’t inclined to have an answer for, seeing as he instantly sent Kiyomasa soaring through the air once more, back towards the cowed crowd. “Who gave you the right to lay your filthy eyes on her?”

Yet neither of you seemed particularly bothered by the complete beatdown going on just a stone’s throw away, even as the rest of the Toman members dared not to even catch a glimpse of their once-leader being obliterated. “You’re not allowed to be here. I said to wait on my bike.” A statement, not a question, but it was clear that there was no bite behind Mikey’s words, not with the way he gently took your comparatively fragile hand into his own, bundling himself into your awaiting arms and burying his face into your shoulder.

“Came to see what was taking you boys so long.” You hummed out, lifting one hand to run your fingers soothingly through his hair, the sound of shifting boxes clattering against each other alerting Takemichi to the groaning paper bag slung over one arm. Almost domestic was how he would have described the unlikely scene unfolding before him, Takemichi barely able to accept that the blond-haired Toman President that was now busy tugging at the fabric of school uniform and insisting on a piece of taiyaki while you gently let him down was the same merciless man that lead the Toman of his future. Were they missing something? Did Naoto get the wrong man?

There was no time for his train of thoughts, the all-too familiar sensation of his gut wrenching in despair bringing him out from his contemplation as his mind registered that your gaze had shifted down to meet his, where he had been still staring slack jawed and wide eyed up at you. Your brow now furrowed in what seemed like concern, you shifted to offer him a hand. “Are you alright?”

Fuck - was all that he had time to think, Takemichi almost robotically turning away from you to instead see Mikey’s gaze swing onto him with what he prayed wasn’t irate eyes, the afternoon sun that crawled across the sky in its neverending journey now casting an intimidating shadow over the boy’s eyes yet offering no warmth to him as his blood ran cold. Was it his turn to be beaten into a pulp by Draken and Mikey? Was he going to the other side on this fine afternoon?

His sole condolence was that at least Hina wasn’t here to see him cry.

But all Mikey did was to grab your outstretched hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and huffing as he turned you away from Takemichi, his other free hand reaching up to grab and squeeze your cheeks. “Don’t talk to him.”

“Alright, Mikey.” Was all you managed to get out, a fond sigh escaping you when Mikey released your face from his grip. You must be used to it, reasoned Takemichi, right before he got back to thanking his lucky stars above that for once, shined down on him at just the right moment. It wasn’t his time to go.

You instead turned your attention to the other still rampaging boy. “Ken-chin, come on, lunch is getting cold.”

The final groan of pain, combined with the sound of flesh hitting the ground as Kiyomasa's broken body was uncaringly tossed aside all but indicated the end of the beatdown. Yet the sheer anger that had been painted on the Vice Captain's face failed to fade, Takemichi's hair instantly standing back on end even from a distance as that frightful look was shifted in his general direction.

But you didn’t seem the least bit bothered when Draken confronted you with an aggressive ‘Huh?!’, bloodied fists held stiffly at his sides - and you were right to be, the hostile look evaporated as soon as those large doe eyes of yours swung up from Mikey to meet the other’s, an almost soft smile breaking through to quirk his lips.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you there being all chummy.” It was with nothing but care and gentleness, a far cry from what had been dealt to Kiyomasa, that Draken drilled his knuckles into the top of your head, the same ones that had once been dirtied with blood and carelessly wiped on Kiyomasa’s soiled shirt, you giggling at the funny feeling, releasing Mikey from your arm to instead throw a quick hug around the other. The amusement on his face was gone in the next instant though as the Vice Captain turned his attention back to the hunched over crowd, dismissing the still quavering delinquents with a bored wave. “Break it up everybody. Don’t tarnish Toman’s name with stupid shit like underground fights.”

You must truly be someone special to be able to tame the notorious Toman leaders, Takemichi mused, watching as Draken flushed you tight against his side, his towering figure shielding the sight of a passed out Kiyomasa from you as he guided you away, Mikey letting out an inaudible grumble only to eagerly grab at your offered hand. But other than your genuine kindness, one that shone through clearly from the depths of your eyes, there was little he could pinpoint about you that would explain their protectiveness. What was it that drew them to you? That had Draken react that badly to Kiyomasa’s supposed insult?

‎

“Yamagishi basically told me I was lucky to walk away alive and asked how I did it. And then Suzuki asked me if she was really as pretty up close as she was from a distance." Takemichi trailed off, eyes hazy from his memories, staring blankly at one of the many bookcases that lined the walls of the small apartment.

Allowing the last statement to simply wash over him, Naoto instead took the next few minutes to digest the information dump he had just received while Takemichi was still caught up in his recent past, breaking down what Takemichi had observed about the relationship between Toman and you, and matching it up to what he currently knew. Even with new information that no one had been privy to, the detective’s conclusion was that there were still many gaps - too many gaps for comfort - but the pieces were at least starting to have a semblance of connection. “Now that you’ve told me this, everything somewhat adds up.”

“Toman -”

“Bonten,” Naoto corrected, lips now set back in his usual grim line.

“She would have stopped Mikey, hands down!” Insisted Takemichi.

"She's missing." Naoto sighed, hands reaching up to rub at his weary eyes. Between his usual day job and Bonten, he’s never been quite able to catch a break. “Been missing for twelve years now.”

Takemichi’s dropped jaw came as no surprise, the gears turning in his head all too obvious. “Missing?! But how?” With Mikey and Draken so protective over you, it seemed impossible that you could have vanished without at least a Toman-wide manhunt. Or even the mass destruction of Tokyo City. There was no way you would have stayed missing for long, so what happened?

“The first missing report was filed on 10th August. And that’s all we know.” Naoto continued, once more turning his trusty laptop to Takemichi, the screen lit with a scanned document, your face beaming back at him from one corner. “We need more information leading up to this incident.”

The next few days flew by in a blink. Between Akkun’s death and digging further through countless police reports, Takemichi doubted he managed much sleep, the face filled with unmitigated fear and sorrow right before his bestfriend took that fateful last step still haunting the black behind his eyelids. The rustling of paper behind him went unnoticed, though Naoto was quick to snap Takemichi out from his spiraling thoughts, shoving what at first glance looked just like an old newspaper article into his shaking hands. “I found it.”

“This is?”

“Draken’s death. Huge gang fight on 3rd August. And then one week later -”

“She disappears.”

“Exactly. This must have been behind Toman’s breakup and Boten’s formation.”

Takemichi’s gaze snapped to meet Naoto’s. “But that’s just two weeks away!”

A small smirk quirked the detective’s lips as he stretched out his hand. That spark of hope in the blue of Takemichi’s eyes - he could see it again. “Better get going then. Two weeks time, you’ll have to stop Draken from dying -

“And stop her from disappearing.”

“Understand? That’s your next mission.”

“Alright. I’ll try my best.” Clasping hands with Naoto, it took but a blink, and Takemichi awoke to find himself on the back of Akkun’s bicycle.

‎

You blinked.

This - this was bad. You had absolutely no idea where you were, and your phone battery was dead, even though you were certain that it was at least half full at the end of the school day just an hour before.

At least this place still perhaps looked somewhat familiar, you tried to convince yourself, squinting at what looked like the end of the narrow alleyway you somehow found yourself. Maybe the light at the end of this seemingly endless alleyway lined with an equally endless number of bricks was the one that led to your school gates - actually, scratch that - it wasn’t familiar at all. The towering, unmarked buildings that flanked both sides of this backlane gave you no further clues as to where you were, and neither did the blank brick walls that flanked both sides.

Groaning, you dropped your bag on the ground, squatting down to hide your face in your hands as you squeezed your eyes shut, left to ponder how you found yourself in this situation. Had you been nabbed? Was someone playing a prank on you? Was this just a dream? All you could recall was that it had been a long day of school, and after spending the entire week shuttling between school and the hospital, caring for Draken after his operation and helping him get back on his feet, all the while making sure the rest of your Toman friends were holding up fine, you had inevitably fallen asleep while waiting for Mikey to come round to pick you up after school, the heat of the afternoon too lulling, too comfortable to resist.

Maybe when you opened your eyes back up, you would be out of this nightmare and your friend would be there. Sadly, it was not to be, the same brick wall where you were sure had been a road just minutes ago still filling your entire line of sight.

Sighing as you picked yourself and your school bag up, your feet picked one of two directions to start in, and off you went. Surely it was better to just leave the alley and navigate from wherever you popped out. And as it turns out, that had been one of your better decisions, the neighborhood that you had reappeared in was one that you knew like the back of your hand, though the school that you had been attending was now surprisingly gone, with just a large grass patch standing where the building had been. Buildings vanishing in minutes was not an area you were specialized in, though you did file that information away in the back of your head.

Perhaps you should try going home, you mused, the idea seeming better and better as you once more started down familiar roads, your school bag swinging a little in your light grip; you could at least check if your house was still where you had left it this morning, seeing as your school had upped and left. Yes, that would be a good idea.

Your key still worked, the lock of your front door turning effortlessly like it had done so hundreds of times before, and you felt the weight on your chest instantly lifting as you stepped through your doorway - no matter the situation you were in, home was at least still where you remembered it to be. The small porcelain bowl rang with that same familiar crystal chime as your keys were delicately set down, the narrow wooden counter that it sat atop as spotless and worn as you had left it this morning, the hum that bubbled through your lips chasing away the silence permeating the shadows that filled every crevice of your house.

The dim lights that lined the ceiling of your stairwell were barely bright enough to illuminate the floor, but your feet still easily found its footing on every step - you could probably do it in your sleep as well. Yet the comfort and familiarity that being back home only served to dull your caution, blinding you to the monsters that once slept within the darkness stirring to life, the tiniest glint of light reflecting off the glass of a small camera trailing your movements from the shadows of the ceiling going unnoticed.

Carefully placing your school bag onto your neatly tucked away chair, you allowed yourself to collapse onto your bed, a huff escaping your lips as you nestled your face amidst the fresh linen. But even as you took a deep breath, attempting to will the anxiety that settled at the bottom of your gut away, the smell that hit your nose instantly set off a new wave of panic - your sheets were fresh. Too fresh.

Sirens now blaring in your head, you scrambled to throw yourself off the offending object.

The shadows that danced around your room looked a lot more menacing now than ever, lapping at the last rays of light that streamed through your window from the dim yellow streetlight outside, determined to devour everything in sight. Hands unconsciously bunching and clutching at the skirt of your school uniform, you cast a quick glance around, ever so carefully backing off and away from the bed towards your wardrobes. It seemed that the nerves that still tingled your skin were right - you supposed your mind had been subconsciously picking out the unsettling details in your home all this time.

What was going on?

Though you barely had time to complete that thought before something from the dark touched your shoulder, sending you leaping what must have been a foot into the air. What was quickly revealed to be a hand - a man’s gloved hand - was faster, slapping itself over your mouth as your unknown assaulter shoved you backwards and up against the sliding doors of your cupboards, the soft thud as your back hit the wood the first sound you had heard since returning home. How the other had followed you up to your room with barely a creak or footstep was beyond you - a ghost perhaps, an evil spirit.

But he wasn’t a ghost, the man leaning in towards you, the light of his phone’s screen clearly illuminating the glimmering silver of his single drop earring, and the massive jagged scar that crossed the entirety of the left half of his face, kissing the tip of what seemed to be an impaired eye and disappearing behind his black undercut, right above his ear.

‎

“You gotta be fucking with me,” Kakucho breathed.

The Bonten Number 3 wasn’t sure what to think when the alert had first been raised of someone matching your general description leaving the vicinity of where Bonten had once razed your school to the ground. Over the many years that he had served Mikey faithfully, having been entrusted with scouring the entirety of Tokyo and Japan for you, there had been several false alarms raised, yet he had never come close to finding even a whiff of you. But squinting at the grainy footage of a CCTV camera, one of several that continued to devotedly watch over the same streets where you had vanished twelve years ago, the spark of hope that it could perhaps really be you this round ignited once more. Your hair, your figure, it matched too closely for it not to be you.

Maybe this search that he had never been permitted to stop could finally be drawn to a close.

The black-haired man had been in the midst of preparations when the second alarm was raised: there was now movement detected in your residence. And that was when the scrambling truly began, Kakucho cursing and swearing out loud as he hurriedly tucked his gun into its holster under his coat, barking out orders to the waiting men on his way out the door. Either you had somehow reappeared out of thin air, or there was a burglar with a death wish.

If Bonten had been alerted, then so has the police, with his insider information indicating that the police had been keeping tabs on the area around your house, given the enormous bounty that was placed on your safe return, combined with the fact that your residence had been bought out by a front company several years ago.

Now here you were, standing right before him, large trembling doe eyes freely displaying your fear, the unshed tears welling at the corners of your eyes glittering in the soft light of his phone - an exact replica of the girl from the picture he had pulled up on his phone. Not of those year-on-year aged up mockups they had professionally done of you, no, the you that he was now face-to-face with was a carbon copy of the single photo that Mikey had reluctantly sent to him for searching purposes, the photo of you from twelve years ago. You looked exactly the same as the day you vanished.

“Don’t scream,” warned Kakucho, before he carefully removed his gloved hand from your mouth, though it seemed that his caution was unnecessary, you barely daring to breathe even as your ashen face and quaking eyes continued to stare at him, the only movement being your shaking hands bundling more of your uniform into their grip. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the wail of sirens that had started up in the distance indicated that his time spent in your cozy little room was up. “Right, you’re coming with me.”

There was no resistance from you, allowing Kakucho to gently usher you out of the room, the men - armed with very real guns you noted at the back of your still-whirling mind - that had been gathered in the corridor around your bedroom door parting to let the two of you through. Who was he? Why did he look like he had seen a ghost? And what did he want from you?

Stopping for just mere moments to help you slide on your shoes, the blue and red flashes splashed across buildings and drawing ever closer all but confirming Kakucho’s suspicions - the police really were keeping tabs on you because of your link to Bonten. With every second now counting down until they arrived, the man found good reason to instead sweep you off your feet and into his arms, carrying you the last six steps to bundle you into the awaiting car alongside him. The car had peeled away from the street before your seatbelt had clicked close, the well-maintained tyres barely making a squeak against the asphalt even as the streets outside your window blurred together.

A muffled thud as the back of his head hit the plush headrest; if you were really who he thought you were, then the sigh of relief that Kakucho let out under his breath at having not pulled his gun on you would be warranted. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you had started crying, or worse, if Mikey had found out you had to look down the barrel of his gun - just the extent the Bonten boss had been willing to go to to have you back by his side again was a clear enough threat in itself.

‎

The car ride was silent. The worst kind of silence, in your opinion - quiet and awkward, with not even the radio playing and the partition between the back seat and the drive, like those that you’ve seen celebrities have, completely raised. According to the movies you watched, this wasn’t how an actual kidnapping was supposed to go, though you weren’t complaining - it was far better to ride up here than in the boot. Plus you weren't even tied up or blindfolded, free to watch unfamiliar buildings whiz by your tinted window. You turned to look at your captor quietly staring out his own window, the passing streetlights occasionally illuminated his contemplating face. Maybe he was just new at this?

Not that you would ask anyway, your companion’s aura a tad too intimidating for you to consider.

Mercifully for you, the trip came to a quick end, the car door swinging open to reveal what on first glance you assumed was the lobby of a luxury hotel. The glimmer of polished marble that lined every step from the foyer, where the car had stopped, carving a path towards the lobby hidden behind thick glass doors, was intimidating, yet your captor still ever so gently helped you out of the car, guiding you along without a moment’s hesitation, you noting that his stance had relaxed compared to when he had been in the car. Almost as if he was home, your mind told you, but you shook that thought away. You couldn’t afford to slip into the illusion of safety and lose sight of the situation you were in. The bulge where you had spotted his gun during the ride here, tucked away in a hoster beneath his coat, had been a wake up call - after all, people didn’t usually carry guns if they didn't mean to use it. People don’t usually carry guns, period. Maybe if you just went along, they’ll let you go. After all, it wasn’t like you had anything they wanted.

Yet you couldn’t help yourself, your eyes widening in awe as you stepped into the lobby past the glass door, barely noticing the click of a lock as the light glittering and reflected in almost everything around you, the shine reflected in your doe eyes as you whirled around, trying to take everything in. Expensive was an understatement, with every inch of the ornate foyer seemed to be lavished with gold or marble or exotic woods and carved with extravagant designs, what looked like priceless art and statues artfully littering the area. Craning your head up as far as your neck would go, the chandelier that hung above the two of you from high ceilings was easily the biggest you had ever seen in your life, dwarving even those you had seen in the movies - every teardrop crystal that hung from silver handles probably a fortune in its own right. Even the grand staircase that curved and met in the middle with a flourish glittered in its light, not a speck of dirt to be had on any step or railing. But you didn’t have time to appreciate the grandeur, your captor instead leading you to one corner of the deserted lobby.

From behind you, the creak of a door swinging open, the black-haired man that had been gripping your shoulder instantly releasing you as he turned to meet the newcomer.

“Leave, Kakucho.”

Just two words, but it was clear that the man’s statement was an order, not a suggestion, your now-named kidnapper immediately departing the room seemingly through the same doorway the other came through with naught a backward glance.

The door closed gently behind him, the soft click as the latch sprung back into place that echoed around the giant lobby a forbidding reminder - it was now just you and him. But you knew even to assume that would be wrong, no. Thinking that the other’s focus had been on anyone except you would be lying to yourself; you knew, it had always just been you and him in this room right from the moment he had entered, the feeling of his sharp gaze tearing into your back all too acute in your mind.

Yet, you still couldn’t quite tell what it was that had set off that basic fight-or-flight instinct - maybe it was the sense of danger that seemed to radiate from his mere presence, or the slow, menacing footsteps that had the dread weighing on your chest grow heavier as he drew closer to you from behind. No matter what it was that had your body tensing up and freezing even as your mind screamed at you to fight, to move, to just turn around, you found that you couldn't force yourself to take even a step. The final step that finally closed the distance between you and him, his breath tickling your skin - and all you could do was watch black sleeves that hung off bony arms come into view as he ever so carefully, so hesistantly wrapped them around your waist, pressing his face slowly into the back of your neck.

“I found you.” He whispered into your skin, a hushed prayer that echoed across the empty room. “I finally found you.”

Arms tightening around your waist, the shaking of his hands, the same two that clutched desperately to the fabric of your school shirt, almost as if you would vanish should he dare to let go, wasn’t lost on you, and neither were the hot tears that scalded your sensitive skin as they dripped free and rolled down your back, drenching the shirt of your school uniform. And you let him, bringing up one hand to rest ever so gently on his, the air conditioning continuing to whirl gently from the high ceilings as your quiet humming joined the suppressed whimpers and rustle of clothes in breaking the stillness of the room.

Even if you didn’t quite know what was going on or who your mysterious captor was, the fact remained that he needed you right now, and you didn’t quite have the heart or stomach to turn away someone in need.

‎

Mikey was never quite sure what he would say to you if - no, when - he found you. Or rather what he should say to you. It was something that he had agonized over for twelve years ever since your sudden disappearance, every last word that he had wanted to tell you; to ask you why you left, to blame you for his torment, to beg for your forgiveness for whatever they did to drive you away.

He didn’t believe, couldn’t dare to believe, the single-line code phrase that had his phone screen light up and ring with that stomach-turning chime - the same one you used all those years ago. She’s coming home. You’re coming home. It must have been another false alarm. It had to be. Yet Mikey still pulled himself up from where he had been slumped, gun lightly swinging from one hand as he strolled down empty corridors, all the while swearing to himself that he would put his 3rd seat down for good this time. Because it was still hope, disgusting hope, that surged through his chest like a swarm of locusts that maybe this time, this time it could be real. And when the door opened to reveal an extremely familiar back, your back, even as the same thought of what he wanted to tell you surfaced once more, all his words seemed to have left him.

Were you just another hallucination here to haunt him? Was this payment for his crimes, his sins? Your familiar smell, your soft touch, your warm skin from his deepest dreams, his darkest nightmares that had plagued his every night spent alone with no one but his thoughts - so close yet so distant. But as he once again bundled you into his arms, pressed his face into the crook of your neck, breathed in your scent, it became undoubtedly clear. It was you. It was really, truly you.

‎

The second hands of the twelve clocks that hung on one wall at the far end of the lobby, one for Tokyo and the others for distant cities that you only read about, unwaveringly ran their course round the clock face, the merry ticking indicating time continuing to flow by in an unending stream. Yet it felt like no time had passed at all within the four walls of the lobby, with you still locked in a grip with a stranger you couldn’t see, watching the outside world turn as a simple observer from behind thick glass doors. As his trembling slowly stilled and his grip on you loosened, the sudden realization of the situation you were actually trapped in - that you had been kidnapped for one - washed over you, and your stomach began to churn once more. Who were they? Who was he? What did they want from you? And more importantly, had you really been soothing your captor, the same person that had you brought here against your will?

Finally freeing you from his arms, taking a step back and away from you, the tension that filled the air was instantly palpable, your chest heavy with the weight of anticipation, which only increased with every soft tap of his slippers against the granite floor until you could barely breathe. It was the few moments you had to quickly process your own thoughts that somehow brought about your hesitation - did you really want to know who he was? Would that somehow be your downfall?

But any doubts that you had evaporated as the same footsteps gradually carried your captor into view, first the black of his hanging pants, then the white of his undercut, framing a familiar yet unfamiliar face. One that you both knew so very well yet not at all, standing a mere arm’s length away, black blank eyes that both hid and told everything in their endless abyss.

“Mikey?” Bringing both hands up to gently cup his face, your friend melting into your touch was the only response you needed - it was truly him. With the confirmation came the questions that flooded your mind - why he looked so different, why he had you nabbed from your home, where were the rest of your Toman friends - a rampage that you quickly pushed to the back of your mind, having not the heart to ask him. Not with the way Mikey seemed to be quietly soaking in your presence, not with how frail and sickly this Mikey looked against the lifely Mikey you saw just yesterday, against your own delicate hands, and not with the almost black eyebags that hung low under both his eyes. “Are you not eating and sleeping well, Mikey?”

It wasn’t the first thing he thought you would say upon your reunion, but somehow, someway, deep down, it was always what he had expected. No matter what you were going through, you were still worried for him. Tired eyes fluttered close as he allowed you to tenderly dance your fingers across his skin and under his eyes.

Softly tracing sharp cheekbones, the remnants of the soft, fleshy cheeks you knew from twelve years prior, the gauntness that haunted Mikey’s face made your stomach churn - he looked so sickly. So weary from the burdens of life. Releasing him from your fussing, there was no objection from your friend when you bundled him into your arms, allowing him to bury his face into your chest as you ran one hand through his hair like you always did, letting a hum bubble out, the same tune from that old song that you loved so much. And so the two of you stood for a moment longer, the deserted lobby frozen in time with you, neither in a hurry to move even as the rest of the world raced on.

Then a yawn, the first that you failed to swallow, escaped your lips, breaking the little rhythm you had going up till now, though you could hardly blame yourself - it had really been a long day. “Would you like to go and lie down for a bit, Mikey?”

“With you?” Came Mikey’s cautious, almost hesitant question, his slender fingers still tangled up in your shirt not lost on you, as if he found it hard to believe that you were truly here with him. Your heart broke once more. What has your friend been through?

Opting to instead allow an indulgent smile to creep onto your face, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, the fear and uncertainty that you had felt chilling your bones when you had first stepped foot in this foreign place now dissipating into the cool air wafting down from high ceilings. “Of course.”

Sliding his hand into yours, his grip was soft, tender as he led you not back through the small, nondescript door he had entered by, but up the grand staircase and down a seemingly endless number of luxuriously furnished corridors, each as glamorous, if not more so, than the previous, and through countless doors. Paintings and sculptures and vases lined every available wall, glittering in its own individual spotlight against the dark of the wood panels, the contrast enough to make your head spin. The building must be massive, you deduced, Mikey leading you past yet another junction where the hallways branched off again towards an unknown destination, the same plush, spotless carpet stretching out forever into the distance. How Mikey even knew where to go was beyond you, and your grip on your friend’s hand tightened ever so slightly - you would hate to be lost here.

You were absolutely exhausted by the time Mikey had tugged you to his intended destination, the neatly made bed a siren’s call to you as you stumbled through the doorway, pausing only to kick off your shoes and place them to the side of the door before you collapsed onto the mattress, already asleep before your head hit the soft covers. Yet the white-haired man still only stood and watched on, the soft snorts that escaped your nose as you tried to bury yourself deeper into the sheets lightly ruffling the surrounding cloth, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

It was you, truly you. Twelve years, Mikey thought, you letting out a quiet whine as he delicately maneuvered your sleeping frame to tuck you under his warm blanket. Twelve years of suffering, twelve years of torment without you there to soothe away his fears, to lift the tears of his eyes, to take him into your comforting arms. There was no more waiting to be done, Mikey allowing himself to finally join you, snuggling himself under the sheets and up tight against your chest as he once more wrapped his arms around you, face pressed into your shirt, every breath that he took only of you and your familiar scent. His search was over. It was really you. And for the first time in many years, with you back in his arms and him in yours, the black of sleep was a welcomed relief.

‎

Takemichi awoke to the blaring of his phone going off at full volume. It was his supposed last day in the past, having spent the entire week ensuring that Draken was recovering well, bathing in the awe of his schoolmates, and otherwise setting his affairs in order before his return to the future. Sleepy eyes blinking slowly, the boy was soon scrambling up at the sight of the name on the small screen, fully awake. Yet before he could even speak, the voice that boomed over the tiny speaker was enough to burst his eardrums. "Takemitchy, get your ass over here now."

"...Draken-kun?"

A pause, the pandemonium raging on the other end all too clear over the phone. Loud bangs, screaming, Draken swearing at someone to shut the fuck up and sit down, before things seemed to calm enough for the Vice Captain to elaborate. "She's missing. It's all hands on deck."

Click.

Looking up to see his own ashen face reflected in the mirror, Takemichi was sure that the wrenching feeling in his abdomen was his heart dropping to the bottom of his gut. Fuck.

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s the Christmas season and Loki still has much to learn. Thankfully, he has his favorite little mortal to teach him all about it. Warnings: just straight fluff A/N: Alright, it’s December, and you know what that means: time for Christmas fics! Hope you enjoy my first installment for the holiday season. Happy reading folks :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was bizarre, thought Loki, how seemingly overnight the world was lit up with red and green everything. Lights, wreaths, trees, inflatable decorations; you name it, and Loki could spot it from any corner in NYC. Everyone he passed seemed to be filled with joy, ready to start singing at any second. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Normally, people would give him the side-eye, but lately they passed by with a quick nod or wave. Loki doubted it had little to do with him and much more to do with the Christmas spirit floating in the air.

Ah, Christmas. He knew a decent amount about it, but had never paid too much mind to it. After all, it wasn’t like he ever really planned on living on Midgard. It was just the way things worked out. Now he wished he’d taken a bit more of an interest, for this fat, bearded, old man in a red suit made very little sense to him. And yet, he was everywhere this time of year. Though he could have asked any one of the Avengers about it, he refused to risk being teased. It should be easy enough to learn about if he truly desired to.

Loki marveled at the world in a sort of confused awe as he walked back to the Tower. This time of the year on Midgard, while so disagreeable to many, was perfectly fine with him. The bitter cold of the city at wintertime barely even felt like a summer breeze to him. One of the perks of being a perpetually cold frost giant, he supposed, was that you didn’t notice the freezing temperatures. As for those who did, well, he didn’t get why those silly little mortals didn’t just go somewhere warmer. You’d explained to him, once, that not everyone could afford to just pack up and move as they could on Asgard. A terrible shame, he thought, and he wished that he could do something to help, not that he would ever admit it. Feeling particularly generous, he dropped a one hundred-dollar bill in one of those collection bins that always popped up this time of year. It was guarded by yet another one of those strange, bearded men ringing a bell.

Hugging his so dark-green-it-was-almost-black peacoat to him, he rounded the final corner to get back home. Much like his gloves, it was more for style than anything else. Besides, no need to draw more attention to himself by dressing too lightly in the winter weather. Taking one last glance at the world around him, Loki pushed through the doors of the Avengers Tower.

“What in the Nine?” he sputtered as he was hit with a mouthful of glitter.

“Sorry, Mr. Loki,” Peter apologized. “We’re just decorating for Christmas.”

“By throwing glitter around?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’s Christmas, everything is glittery,” he said with a shrug.

“That, I can tell you,” Loki replied, patting Peter’s shoulder as he passed, “is absolutely true.”

All his other teammates seemed to be as excited about decorating as Peter was, though no one else was just haphazardly throwing that infernal sparkly dust. No, they were all using their special talents to hang garlands up from high balconies and banisters. Large ornaments and snowflakes were hanging from the ceiling. Every floor that Loki walked to was filled with merriment and yet more Christmas adornments. How they were put up so fast, the trickster god had no idea.

The common room was, much to his surprise, the least decorated place in the Tower so far. The team must have been saving this room for last, perhaps to do all together. Loki would have been upset that he wasn’t invited, but he was sure it was mentioned in one of those email blasts he always ignored. Now that he thought of it, he did remember seeing it in something that he skimmed. Regardless, this was a nice break from the hubbub in the rest of his home at the moment. In this room, there was only a tree put up and his angel working on prepping it. You.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” you sang to the music you had blasting through the room, unaware of Loki’s presence. “Everywhere you go.”

He watched in wonder as you twirled about the floor, taking out ornaments and other assorted trimmings for the tree. You grabbed a silver and gold garland and began the tedious process of wrapping it around the artificial branches, still belting your heart out. Though Loki was unfamiliar with the words, he caught on to the tune and began humming along, startling you ever so slightly. He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, joining in your spinning and dancing. Prancing around the room with you, Loki was filled with unbridled joy, and he thought he might be beginning to understand the reason for all the joy the season brings.

As you sang the final notes, you and the God of Mischief collapsed onto the couch amidst the boxes of Christmas knick-knacks, laughing your heads off. When you tried to get up, Loki pulled you back down to him, starting another fit of giggles.

“And how is my little mortal today?” he asked, playfully ticking you a little.

“I’d be a lot better if you let me finish decorating,” you teased, poking his chest.

He sighed and relinquished you back to your duties, watching you walk back toward the tree. If only he had the courage to tell you how he feels, rather than just admiring you from afar. You were best friends, sure, but he longed for more. Much more.

“Loki,” you called in a sing-song voice, batting your eyes. “Can you help me, please?”

“Of course, little one.”

He helped you string the garland the rest of the way around the tree, using his magic to get even the highest boughs. You squealed in delight as you admired your work so far, throwing your arms around Loki to thank him for his help.

Soon, the rest of the team joined you and began to hang the ornaments. No one particularly cared about where they were put, just that everyone was having fun. Loki tried to stay on the outskirts of the activity, but everyone kept pulling him back in. It made him happier than he cared to admit that they all concerned themselves with him participating. That they wanted him to participate.

“What do you think, Mr. Loki? Here?” Peter questioned as he held up an ornament in a prospective spot. “Or here?”

“The first spot, I suppose.”

“No,” Thor chimed in, making Peter worried he was going to start one of their infamous sibling battles. “The second spot, for certain.”

“I guess. I still do not understand most of this ‘Christmas’ stuff, to be quite honest.”

“Well, why did you not say so, brother?”

“Yeah, we can teach you all about it,” you added, showing up beside them. Then you snapped your fingers, getting an idea. “The tree lighting is tonight! At Rockefeller Center. We should go to that!”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Peter agreed. “So it’s set then. A crash course, then a field trip to see the tree lighting!”

Loki smiled at his friends as they bustled around him, planning the rest of the day. He couldn’t wait for later, and it made the rest of the time spent decorating even more enjoyable. Between the constant singing and cracking of jokes, there was not a dull moment to be found. While it would have usually drained Loki, he felt as lively as ever. Maybe there truly was something special about the season, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Loki stood with his teammates as incognito as possible in Rockefeller Center. It had been agreed that they just wanted to be normal people for one, not celebrities. To keep your group warm, Loki had cast a heating enchantment that they were all more than grateful for as they waited for the tree to light. In the last minutes before it was set to shine through the night, you summarized your lessons on the holiday.

“So,” you began, “I guess it’s basically a time for love, showing others how much they mean to you. And sure, there’s all the commercial stuff about candy canes and elves and trees and Santa Claus, which is nice and all, but that’s not the real meaning. It’s about being with those you care about and spreading goodwill to all.”

Loki thought back to all the times he’d needed a little charity or a helping hand, or really just to be shown he was loved. There were certainly a plethora of scenarios to pick from in his life. A whole season to spread cheer and show everyone things are not as hopeless as they seem sounded like a splendid idea indeed.

“I quite like the sound of that,” he said with a smile. As you looked back at him, an equally warm glow adorning your features, Loki realized there was one person he loved more than anyone else. With a sudden burst of confidence, he went to tell you exactly how he felt. “I must say this now, I-”

He was cut off as the crowd began the countdown. You gave him an apologetic smile as the both of you joined in. Upon reaching the last number, the tree lit up, filling Loki with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. That was only accentuated when you grabbed his hand, bursting with excitement and awe. Once the cheering went down, and your group began to depart, you remembered Loki had been about to say something to you.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me before?” you asked. “Before the countdown.”

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. He’d already lost his nerve. “It was nothing urgent. I hardly even remember now. Another time, perhaps.”

“Well, that’s ok,” you replied, though you sounded a little disappointed. “Whenever you remember is fine.”

Back at the Tower, everyone said goodnight and parted ways to go to bed, exhausted from the busy day. In the hall between your rooms, you and Loki stopped to say goodnight one final time. You paused mid-sentence, spying something green hanging from the ceiling above you. Loki followed your gaze upward and immediately went a shade of red that put Rudolph’s nose to shame. Even before all your lessons from the day, he knew mistletoe when he saw it. And, of course, the tradition that went with it.

He heard snickering from around the corner and spotted Peter and Thor waiting for one of you to make your move. Undoubtedly, they'd fabricated the situation to try to get you together faster than you were going by yourselves. To be fair, at said pace, you’d never be together.

“Just kiss already!” Thor shouted before ducking away to give you some privacy.

“Pardon my brother,” Loki said self-consciously. “If you do not wish to, there is no law saying-”

He was cut off for the second time that night. This time, however, it was by something much more pleasurable. You had stood up on your tip toes and placed a kiss to his cheek, too sheepish to do much else.

“Night, Loki,” you said to the still stunned god. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow indeed, my little mortal,” he said, pulling you in for another kiss, this time on the lips.

Oh yes, it was decided. This season was magical.

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter XVIII]

Word count: 4,365

Warnings: reader is still at Dracula’s *shrug*

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

A/N: 1. I'm not posting the chapters as consistently as I'd like to because work has been really time consuming lately and when I do get time to write I'm too exhausted to think up of anything coherent. Holidays are approacing and my workload has only increased so I don't know if I'll be able to post chpt 19 in December. I'll try but I can't guarantee anything. If that doesn't happen, then I wish all of you happy holidays. [edit: I slipped, and accidentally uploaded a version where the reader has a name (she does in my doc). Apologies, everybody. It’s fixed now.]

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Dracula carried me to the bathroom. I stifled a giggle as soon as we crossed the threshold. It was either the biggest bathroom I had ever seen or I was shrinking. The walls were black marble with white and grey veins. Heavy curtains like the ones in the dining room covered a wall. Light peeked from under it. I supposed there was a big window there so that one could admire London’s skyline from inside the oval bathtub placed near it. Across from the sink countertop and a large mirror, stood the shower separated from the rest of the room by blurred glass.

He lowered me near the bathtub, murmuring for me to open the faucets. Keeping one arm around his neck, I reached and opened them. As the bathtub filled, Dracula held me under his shower to let the water wash off the blood. He stripped me of the rest of my clothes. When I swayed on my feet, he enveloped me in a hug to keep me steady. Drowsy, I buried my head on his chest and closed my eyes.

Hot water embraced my whole body and I opened my eyes with a start as I was carefully lowered into the bathtub with him. His fingers kneaded my scalp and tugged softly on my hair as he washed it. The contours of my body were touched with the sole intent of cleaning it. After so much of moving me around, of raising my limbs and tender touches, I fell still, lying on him with my cheek on the crook of his neck.

Submerged in water and in deep silence, I was suspended in a veil of sleep and wakefulness, threading between the two. For a moment I wondered if I was not dreaming. If perhaps I fell asleep at some point on the tube from Covent Garden to Knightsbridge and dreaming of peace in the arms of Count Dracula was the illusory result. As a test, I squeezed him lightly. He squeezed back.

Not a dream.

This was real. Everything that had just happened was real. There was no bond. My will was my own. I had a bite on my neck. Mallory had one and so did Diana. I was his. He said he was mine.

Was this peace?

I shivered.

“Are you cold?” I heard his voice deep inside his chest, the rumble it made inside his ribcage. It was quiet in there, except when he spoke.

“No.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Maybe the water is getting cold,” I mumbled, pressing my eyes closed. This was peace. Peace, I insisted.

“The water is still hot,” he said. He pushed the hair that clung to my neck and I flinched at the slight soreness there but relaxed as he stroked the skin gently. “I may have taken too much.”

He moved beneath me. I opened my eyes with a sigh as he sat up and leaned his back against the tub. His legs parted my own and he pulled me up to straddle him. I felt his length grazing my inner thigh. I was briefly distracted as I remembered his size stretching me but Dracula made a brusque movement with his hand that pulled my mind away from that. A dark carmine line appeared above his collarbone.

“Drink,” he beckoned.

I spared the blood a glance before fixing my eyes on his face.

“You’ve already given it to me.”

“You need more.” He held my cheek, drawing me closer. “You’re weak. It’ll help.”

I shook my head. Blood started sliding down the hairs on his chest. It glimmered. My mouth watered.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted, forcing myself to look up.

“Y/N,” he hissed my name, and like some sort of spell it wrapped around me and tightened, “you’re pale and shivering.” Dracula knitted his eyebrows as he evaluated me. The hand he had on my cheek coiled behind my head. “Drink it.”

My stomach fluttered. I gazed at the carmine sliver. Watched as it reached the bathwater and blossomed like red tendrils until it faded into pink hue.

“Later, perhaps,” I said. I covered the cut on his neck with my hand. He frowned. “I haven’t eaten anything in hours. Food will make me feel better.” He continued staring at me, as if he was waiting for me to give in under the weight of his gaze. I dipped my hand underwater and pulled the drain stopper. The water gurgled as it started draining. “Help me out of the tub? I don’t think I can stand up on my own just yet.”

He nodded, the crease between his brows deepening. He pulled my arms around him and tied my legs around his waist before standing up. Water sloshed in the bathtub and dripped from our bodies in a sudden cascade of sound. I shivered again and held him tighter, seeking some warmth from the stark change of temperature. I flinched instinctively when he went to sit me down on the sink countertop, expecting the marble to feel cold but it was the furthest thing from it, and I relaxed.

“There's a heating system in the entire bathroom,” he explained as he reached beneath the countertop and retrieved a pile of white towels. “The floors are heated, too.”

Sitting atop the block of solid marble, I matched his height and had no need to bend my head to look into his eyes, which was a relief with my sore neck. The cut he had opened above his collarbone was gone.

I took two towels from him; one for my hair and another to dry myself off. He smiled faintly as he tied a towel around his waist. Carefully so as to not pull at the wound on my neck, I wrapped a towel around my body as if it was a cape. I eyed the second towel next to the copper sink. Dracula took it and started drying off my hair. “Thank you,” I said in a relieved smile that he seemed to understand without my needing to ask for help.

Taking strands of my hair with the towel, he pressed them to soak up the water. At times he rubbed the towel on my scalp. His own hair looked black instead of dark brown as droplets of water dripped down to his nose. One drop landed on his lip. It hung from his cupid bow, undisturbed. The drop grew fat as tiny particles of water coalesced around it. Even so, it sat still on the curve of his mouth. I glanced up at his eyes. He was too absorbed in drying my hair to pay it any mind. I leaned closer, intent on catching the drop before it fell, but strands of my hair fell like a curtain in front of my eyes when he used the towel to rub my head again and I huffed inwardly.

I blew the hair away from my face. It fell over my eyes again.

“No fussing,” he said, as he swiped the hair away with a flick of his hand in the towel.

As if the drop on the curve of his mouth had grown heavy, he pressed his lips together and licked it. Apparently satisfied, he tossed the towel to the side and picked up a small comb from under the sink.

“That won’t detangle my hair,” I told him. “I have a brush on my purse that I use.”

He nodded and left the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake. I adjusted the towel on my shoulders and turned to have a look in the mirror behind me. I pressed my lips together and bit them lightly to bring some colour back to them. They remained pale. I tipped my chin to try and have a look on my new bite when Dracula returned, my hairbrush in one hand, and a chair from his dining table in the other.

“Sit and I’ll brush your hair for you,” he said as he placed the chair in front of the sink. He extended a hand for me, but I ignored it and set my feet on the ground to make sure my legs could keep me up. They wobbled but did not bend. Dracula watched me with a raised eyebrow, hand still extended in case my knees failed me but made no other movement to help as I took a step towards the chair and sat down.

Hugging the towel close to me, I stared at Dracula through the mirror as he started brushing my hair from the tips. He held a strand close to my roots as he got rid of a knot. He didn’t tug on my hair once.

“You’ve done this before,” I said as he swiped the brush through a detangled strand.

“Brushed a woman’s hair?” He asked, without raising his gaze to our reflection. I nodded. “My late wife enjoyed having her hair brushed, and she enjoyed brushing mine. I wore my hair long back then.”

“And Lucy?” The name left an acid taste on my tongue. Dracula continued brushing, unbothered. “Do you brush her hair, too?”

I held my breath. I’d asked the question on impulse but I was glad I had.

“No. She didn’t like having her hair touched by anyone other than herself.”

“Didn’t? Past tense?”

He regarded me with amused eyes.

“I grew tired of Lucy.” He moved to my right to brush that side. “I won’t be seeing her anymore.”

I tried smiling but it took effort to pull my cheeks up. The smile looked more like a wince. The news that I was the only one now should have made me happy.

He was mine forever, as I was his. He’d said so.

Our deal was over. There was nothing left to wonder about. But wonder I did. Wondered about red silks, sharp teeth and iron in my mouth; about crazed eyes and red becoming pink.

I drank my own blood and delighted in it; drank his blood and salivated at the thought. I lived a world of cravings in that dining room and satiated them all at once. And they were my cravings, all mine, not his, not a bond. Without a bond to shield me, I was peeled.

Was this myself?

“What’s on your mind?,” he questioned, fingers working carefully to untangle a mass of hair that not even the brush managed to work through. The feeling of those same fingers in my mouth invaded my thoughts and my tongue rubbed the roof of my mouth in remembrance. “Are you having regrets?” I stared at his face in the mirror, trying to capture his eyes and read his thoughts on them, but he kept his gaze locked on his task. “About giving in to me? A little horrified at your choices? I did bite your friends, and nearly killed a few of them, perhaps now you’re questioning yourself. How is Mallory, by the way? I trust that she’s making a steady recovery.” I kept silent. “I’ll take that as a confirmation. If you are having regrets, Y/N, and wondering if you can get away, I’ll discourage those thoughts right now. I will hunt you down, especially after we–”

“No.”

He stopped brushing at my answer and met my eyes.

“No?”

“I’m not regretting anything.”

“Really?” His eyebrows went up, as if he didn’t believe me.

“Stop needling me.”

“Then explain why you didn’t drink my blood.”

“I did drink–”

“When I offered you not less than 10 minutes ago,” he interrupted. His lips were thin with impatience. “I would like to understand why.” He swooped my hair to the side, exposing the bite on my neck. “Are you scared?”

I wished that we were on the bathtub again, in silence and in peace. But the peace was a mere illusion. I knew we would come to this. He would question me and test me. He always did.

“Yes, actually,” I said through the knot on my throat. His jaw clenched. “I am scared. But not of you. I fell in love with you, despite–” he opened his mouth to say something “– no, let me speak. Despite what you’ve done and all that you’re capable of, I fell in love with you and I don’t regret it. But I’m scared of myself and what I can become.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m human. A normal one, I always thought. I shouldn’t enjoy the taste of blood. I shouldn’t enjoy being covered in it. But I did, I do.” My lip trembled. “What does that make me?”

He grinned.

“Perfect.”

“I’m serious, Dracula.”

“So am I.”

“Please, make an effort to help. I’m this much away” –I measured with my thumb and forefinger– “from losing it.” He laughed. “I want to be with you but I’m not sure what being a vampire means.”

“You proposed a deal to find out.”

“Yes, but I wasted it, didn’t I? Between being confused about you and then the Foundation… There’s not much I know.”

“Then ask.”

He resumed brushing my hair as he waited for a response.

The face staring back at me in the mirror was my own. Would I have recognised myself covered in blood? Would I think it was a pretty image as Dracula thought?

I imagined fangs in place of my incisors and canines, and screams of horror as I bore down on some pretty girl who begged for her life. My own laughter ringing in my ears. Death on my skin. And hunger, so much hunger.

I blinked several times to clear my head. This is my face now. Clean, human. My teeth blunt, chewing on my cheeks.

“Will I have to kill people?” I asked, unable to take my eyes away from the stranger in the mirror.

“You’ll want to.”

“How do you know?”

“Believe it or not, I am over five hundred years old and have had incredible amounts of practice in this matter,” he said, smiling at every word. “You’ll want to kill, and you’ll dream about it.”

“You were a killer long before you became a vampire. I won’t take your word so quickly when it comes to killing.”

“That is true. I’m very good at killing, always have been. However, I maintain my word. There is an urge for death that comes with the thirst for blood. It’s inevitable. I’ve seen it with all my little experiments.”

“But do I have to?”

“No, darling.” He gave me a reluctant smile. “You don’t have to. You can keep pets, if you like.” The way he raised one eyebrow told me we weren’t talking about the fluffy kind of pets.

“Like you did with Renfield?”

“Renfield wasn’t a pet. Lucy, perhaps,” he shrugged, as he brushed through every strand of my hair to make sure they were completely detangled. “I’ve only drank Renfield once, you see, so he doesn’t qualify. Pets are good for when you need to be discreet–”

“Which you aren’t,” I quipped.

“– but it is fun.” He concluded, chuckling at my cheeky smile. “You can keep them alive for as long as you need them. Keeping more than one at a time is key for variety and to not tire them out, but it gets old fast. Eventually you’ll wonder how it feels to have a pulse slowing down between your teeth, to consume life and watch death take its place.”

“I may wonder, but I won’t act on it,” I muttered. Dracula raised his eyebrows, eyes sparking. “I won’t,” I repeated more strongly this time.

“Of course, darling,” he said, running the brush on my hair a few more times. “Done.” He rounded the chair and placed the hairbrush on the sink countertop. Standing in front of me, I noticed that the tips of his hair, pointing everywhere, were already drying. It was charming seeing him like this. He was always extremely composed every time I saw him. His chest hair was almost completely dry but the trail of dark hair leading to his belly button still had some beads of water. Earlier, he hadn’t allowed me to touch him and between ripping my clothes off and biting me, I hadn’t gotten a good look at him. “I'll order you food and if you still feel weak afterwards, you’ll drink my blood.”

I looked up at that, blinking as my brain worked to process what he said.

“Maybe you should reword that and add a question mark at the end of that sentence.”

“It wasn’t a question.” He grinned. He scooped me up in his arms as if I was child. My protests were choked back in a yelp at the suddenness of the movement. The world glassed over for a second. I laced my hands around his neck, glaring at him. “If I have to hold your mouth open and make you swallow, I will. I can’t have you strutting around weakened.”

“You were asleep for the past century but it’s time you know that we have advanced in many ways and now we have something called iron supplements ,” I told him as we left the bathroom. “You see, it comes in a tiny little pill and I take it 2 or 3 times a day–”

“My blood will have the same effect, if not better.”

“A while back you told me too much of your blood could affect me,” I prodded, gaze locked attentively on his face. I wasn’t taking notice of where he was taking me, so when he suddenly sat down, cradling me in his arms, I found myself grabbing onto his neck in fear of falling off. Turning my head, I saw large, fluffy pillows in a dark grey bedding. His bedroom. Decor kept the same palette as the rest of the penthouse. The only light on came from behind the black headboard. “How?”

He moved me so that I could completely lean my weight on the arm he had on my back and my behind fit nicely on his lap. My towel slipped up near my knee, exposing one of my thighs. I tried crossing my legs to emulate some sense of decency but Dracula’s arm tucked under my knees had me in a steel grip. Again, I tried moving my legs, subtly nudging his arm, but he didn’t let go.

“To be quite honest–” he began slowly, catching me in his gaze “–I’m not entirely sure what the effects can be on someone willing.” He released one of my legs and as I tried adjusting myself on his lap, I felt his hand on my thigh, caressing up and down. A lazy caress, almost absent. “My brides were rather limited on that front.”

“Tell me about them.” I asked. “When we broke into the Painted Hall, you mentioned you weren’t very successful with most of them. That they were nothing but shadows.”

“Must we reminisce?” He squeezed my thigh at the question.

“We must, yes. I need to know, and I need some assurances that I won’t become like them.”

“You won’t.” His lips thinned, and I touched them with the tips of my fingers. They softened.

“You can’t be sure,” I said, tracing his cupid’s bow and glancing up at those black eyes. I felt his lips stretching in a smile and I let my hand drop to his chest.

“I can.” He watched as his hand disappeared under the towel in his incessant caress. For a moment his hand slipped to my inner thigh and my breath hitched. His hand reappeared from underneath the towel and continued caressing me, apparently oblivious to my arousal. “None of them gave me their consent. Or loved me.”

“And those things make a difference?” I asked, a little breathlessly.

He followed the contours of my leg until my knee then again to my inner thigh. Up. Closer to where I was growing wet. His hand lingered between my thighs for a moment. A pulse started down low. He retreated a third time, and I choked back a whine.

“Oh, yes, of course they do,” he said in a solemn tone, brows furrowed. “If you keep a flower caged, but give it water and light, do you think it’ll thrive as a wild flower does?”

“No.” The word was barely audible, and I shook my head to the sides to add to it.

“Correct.” His hand traveled up, and this time nudged my thighs to open. My fingers on the nape of his neck flexed. My heart beat at my center. At my throat it tried to break free, and gush as blood does. “I will not keep you caged, and everything you need I’ll give and you’ll take.” He frowned. “ In love. What a stunning concept.” I felt the warmth of his fingers hovering, a near touch, almost ghostly. I arched my back in invitation and rose my hips to find an ending to this teasing. “Stay still. I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“Are you?” It came out in a smirk.

“Yes. You wanted answers, I’ll give them to you.” Air left my lungs in a shaky breath as his fingers finally touched me. Probing me, as in an examination. Fingertips slid over my entrance, soaked as it was, gathering some of the slickness to continue his exploration. “My last experiments were my better ones,” he continued in a conversational tone. “They weren’t obedient to me. Always ruled by hunger and desire to kill, they lost themselves, but they kept their appearance. Their body didn’t die but their minds did. They never consented or asked for immortality, and they fought me, oh how they fought me at first.” As he talked, his fingers never stopped moving but they were just exploring, seeking to perhaps memorise its details, lingering in a spot he thought interesting as he observed me, serious as ever. “But they soon learned I was their only source of food. I fed them bite sized meals–” he smiled, and dipped a finger in. Fearful that he would stop, I managed to keep my body still. A gasp escaped anyway but it didn’t seem to discourage him as a second finger joined with ease and I closed my eyes at the feeling. His fingers were much thicker than mine, and longer. He hooked his fingers up, and kept them there, simply putting pressure. If I rocked my hips in just the right way they would pump that precious spot. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t bear it if he stopped. “... but the effects faded quickly. Are you listening?”

I nodded, my lip quivering. He started withdrawing his fingers, so I hurried on, “Y-yes.”

“Darling,” he murmured, dipping in again and this time pumping up, “what did I just say?” A moan was my reply. I looked up at him, hoping that he would leave it be, but the twinkle in his eyes told me he wouldn’t. He was having too much fun. “Answer me.” Suddenly, his fingers were gone and he gave me a light slap on my dripping folds. My hips jerked in surprise. The second slap was less delicate than the first, making me yelp, and left a stinging pain. He soothed it by rubbing my clit, which felt all the more sensitive after being mistreated. “Let me know you were paying attention or I’ll stop.”

“Y-your blood, you gave it to them sometimes.” I said through my teeth, shutting my eyes with my all strength to try and concentrate. Another light slap. “They begged for more than scraps, more than–” I couldn’t utter the word ‘babies’. “Your blood made them more coherent and–” two of his fingers entered me again. A reward for speaking, I guessed. I needed more, and I forced myself to continue. “–and stronger. But it didn’t w-work for long.”

“You listened. Good,” he praised. At some point I had put my hands in fists to try and remain unmoving, but as those fingers hooked up and the palm of his hand pressed up against my clit, I grabbed onto his shoulders to keep myself steady. Wetness spread down my thighs and buttocks as obscene sounds filled my ears. Pressure built as he rocked his hand. “It didn’t work because they were failures from the start, but, you are perfect. Look at me.” I opened my eyes, and saw myself reflected in the darkness of his. “You’re mine. My bride, my lover.” His fingers inside me beckoned me to come to him. I resisted, and by doing so I started shaking. “My blood is yours to drink. You will become more of what you already are by drinking it, that’s all. Now, move with me.”

Striving for breath betweens moans, I buried my face in his chest as I arched my back and moved my hips to meet his upward thrusts. His palm pressed harshly as I fought to accompany each rub. My body seized, losing the delightful cadence that Dracula and I were making, but even as my hips bucked and my legs contorted and quaked, he continued moving his hand to press and rub until I felt lightheaded. Pleasure uncoiled, and snapped like a whip, tearing gasps out of me, and then surged in a wave of torpor.

I collapsed in his lap and, withdrawing his fingers, he gathered me up in a near hug. I watched as he raised his hand, embarrassingly soaked, and put two fingers in his mouth. I was still breathless, but I forced my body to straighten up and grabbed his face, burying myself in his lips and tongue to savour my own taste.

“Greedy,” he chuckled when I pulled back with my chest heaving. “I’m well fed, for now. But you’re not.” He rose where we were perched and laid me on the bed. “I’ll order something for you to eat. Sleep in the meanwhile.”

My eyes shut of their own will as the pillow cradled my head. I felt Dracula taking the towel off of my body and covering me with a blanket. As I drifted to sleep, I heard myself saying, “I’ll drink you.”

There was no response.

@festering-queen @crossoverqueen89 @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff @guiltyfiend @fallen-angel-333 @a-dorky-book-keeper @girlonfireice @thorin-smokin-shield @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @saint-hardy @xoxodrac @illbegoinhome @dreamer2381 @princessayveke @25ocurer @vampirescurse @blue-serendipity @sunscreenfeverdream @iwasjustablur @daydreaming136 @hello-itsbarbie @bittenlove @newyorkrican922 @soph3228 @feralstare @libra-lovecraft

#i'm running out of claes gifs #if anyone wants to flood my dms i'll be grateful #dracula ff #dracula bbc #dracula x reader #claes bang #claes bang ff #claes bang x reader #claes bang fic #dracula fanfic #dracula netflix #vampire fanfic #vampire ff #dracula fic #distorted lullabies

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allie1804-fan · 3 years

Text

Kerensa

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Warnings: Explicit Content, Oral sex (female receiving) Straight sex

Holiday Vibe

Their meal at Hell Bay was wonderful – delicious food and a romantic setting - he had asked for a table by the window when he booked and they looked down at the harbour’s twinkling lights, holding hands underneath the table in between courses and stealing kisses every now and then.

In the small hours of the following morning, Kerry woke to find she’d rolled over onto her back, her arm stretched out above her head and the covers thrown aside due to the warmth of their bodies. When she opened her eyes, she found Keanu was awake too, lying there appreciating her sleeping form. He started to trace patterns across her chest just above the swell of her breasts. She could feel him hardening against her leg and giggled

“Hello Mr Horny”

“Can’t help it, you’re so gorgeous, takes my breath away”

Kerry blushed. His ministrations became more intense then, rolling her nipples between his fingers till they became hard buds before he changed tack and started to kiss down her body, finding her dripping for him. He licked up her slit then probed her entrance with a pointed tongue making her cry out. He was relentless, moaning and praising her sweet taste as he reeled her in like a fisherman bringing in the catch. He knew just when to ease off the speed of his tongue, flicking over the bud of her clitoris and just when to engulf her pussy with his mouth and suck. Kerry’s hips began to undulate as she neared her peak. He rolled with it, holding her up to his face as she started to cry out again.

“Oh God ….yes……Ke……yes please, please…”

He felt her clit grow huge and hard under his lips, flicked fast with his tongue then simply sucked as she screamed in delight. He was rewarded with a cascade of juices in his mouth and all over his chin and he moaned into her pussy, sharing her delight as she panted hard, arm flung out across the pillow in exhaustion. He lay for a moment, his face against her belly looking up at her as she slowly came to. Then he crawled up, giggling

“My, you were loud!”

She giggled back “We probably woke the room next door, it’ll be in tomorrow’s gossip columns!”

“hee hee” well I guess I don’t mind that reputation! But seriously, remind me to get some extra insulation at home!”

She punched him on the arm

“You’re fault, you shouldn’t be so good”

“Why thank you”

“What about you?” she said reaching over and stroking his semi-hard cock.

He looked across and she could see he was blushing a little

“What?”

“Would you ride me? I’ve dreamed of that, of your hair tickling my face, of your breasts dangling above me”, he growled low in his throat at the thought and leaned over to grab a condom from the draw, quickly dealing with putting it on.

Kerry was swiftly astride him and, with his cock now standing to attention, she sank down onto it, relishing how it filled her and rubbed over her g spot in this position. She rode him tantalizingly slowly at first then faster as she felt him encouraging her with an upward thrust of his hips. By the end she was slamming down on him, hard and fast, her back arching backward as she came, moaning low in her throat. The site of her coming spurred him on to his end too and she fell down into his arms, nuzzling his neck and sighing in contented exhaustion.

Their mini-holiday continued in much the same vein. They cycled to Pentle Bay where they spent the afternoon paddling and lying in the sun reading or chatting

Then they headed to the Ruin Bay café a short cycle away to enjoy pizzas cooked in a woodfired oven.

And they did more boat trips to see either the other islands or wildlife.

At every opportunity Keanu would hug and kiss her, not caring if anyone was watching as they stargazed or enjoyed a sunset together. It was like a honeymoon and each night ended in each other’s arms.

On the last morning, they ordered breakfast in bed and lounged around relaxing, knowing they would have to pack up soon. He wore just a pair of lounge pants and she one of his shirts and nothing else which he found quite distracting!

There was a soft wind blowing in from the balcony, moving the blue and white curtains gently. The wind direction had turned more southerly bringing an Indian summer to the islands. Keanu sat in a small armchair after their breakfast and encouraged her to come and sit on his knee.

He started kissing her neck then moved to the tops of her breasts, slowly unbuttoning his shirt to release them and take them each in turn in his mouth, using his tongue to flick her nipples to hardness. He moaned and moved back up to her lips, devouring her in a hungry kiss. She could feel him hardening beneath her and wiggled against him making him groan louder. She slipped off his knee still kissing him and encouraged him to lift his hips so she could slip off his lounge pants. Then she got a condom and rolled it on before she slowly lowered herself onto his waiting hard-on. They both sighed as the pleasure engulfed them and his hands smoothed over the globes of her ass

“Mmmmm you’re so soft so beautiful”

Kerry let out a loud gasp as she leaned back a little and he thrust his hips up, the new position allowing deeper penetration. He knew her body so well now that he knew he wasn’t hurting her. She smiled at him as he thrust up with his hips over and over as she moved down meeting him stroke for stroke. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pressing with her fingertips, leaving marks they would discover later.

“Oh god, oh god” she started an incantation, feeling the pleasure unfurl.

“God, I can feel you coming all around me, it’s beautiful so good, so ohh ohhh”

She slammed down again, screaming his name as her pussy spasmed around him, gripping and releasing, juices dripping onto his thighs. She carried on moving until his moans turned to loud grunts as his orgasm drained him. Their movements gradually slowed and he kissed her lovingly. They rested then, foreheads pressed together, catching their breath.

“I love you Kerry, so so much”

“I love you too Keanu”

END OF PART 1

@fortheloveoffanfic @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @toomanystoriessolittletime @ladyreapermc @paperplanesandwallflowers @patric9

#Keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu #keanu reeves ofc

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alphasmoonlit-selfships · 3 years

Note

Got curious uwu, from two different ask meme:

⚠️ and 🍄

“Why hello @shinitai-i !” Atsushi greeted with a wide smile, his belt tail swishing, “Thank you for the asks! This time an answer from both Dany and I! We appreciate your patience and hope you enjoy our answers!” — 🐯🌙

“Curiosity is grand! Let’s jump right in shall we?” — 🐺✨

⚠️ have you and S/I ever been caught in an embarrassing/"It's not what it looks like" situation? Please tell us what happened.

Oh no… ah o(*////▽////*)q...

Well, I’d be lying if I said no,,, eh he…but ah surprisingly the first thing that came to mind might not be what others could be thinking.

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to just explain what happened. The main point being Dany and I were caught in a semi-naked state… Nothing like what you may be assuming, I swear! It was a deep, and just intimate, private moment before reality came slamming back >\\\\\\\>

I know most of you may be thinking it was a suggestive and funny moment, but it was rather serious prior to us being spooked soon after. I’ll try and keep some of the details vague and light as I can! Minor warning to past abuse and other indications, again, I'll leave as much of it vague as I can, but feel free to skip over to the last question, no worries!

We had just came back from a very serious mission that left both of us in a very heavily injured state. While my ability does help in self-healing a lot, sometimes the over exertion of it can slow it down. Dany has always struggled with her healing ability… especially due to her Shadow ability draining her more than heal.

Even so, we would have gone with Yosano-Sensei, but she was out on her own errands when we came back. We were told to just wait for her and get some rest in the patient room until she returned.

Ah, needless to say, we were concerned over each other’s injuries, and had some knowledge from Yosano-Sensei’s advice on basic aid. So we figured we could try and clean up some deeper cuts and try to wrap them up. Hopefully enough to keep away from Yosano-sensei’s usual treatments 😅

Just to note, Dany and I were definitely a few months into our relationship; we had become a generally sweet and foolishly in love and comfortable couple together and hadn’t done anything too intimate (…despite occasional nudges from our abilities ‘>>). So to say we were hesitant to remove at least our button-ups was an understatement…

We were both wary and embarrassed, we had never been semi-naked around each other before; but also just individually concerned on what the other thought. Especially when it came to old lingering scars of our pasts. Danielle definitely more than I…

Eventually, we both kind of just slowly let ourselves take that leap and removed our layers, enough to show the serious wounds that needed to be healed. Mine of course weren’t so bad and were starting to get better with help from my tiger ability. So that left mostly Dany to be treated and bandaged up.

Hers we’re definitely more serious and she needed to remove the rest of her blouse to really see her wounds. She was more tense and in a trembling panic at the time… I felt bad for being the cause of her nervousness. Though she has since reminded me that it wasn’t really me, but how she viewed herself and the scars that remained.

Eventually, with enough comforting words and settled with her own choice, she removed her layers.

…I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, definitely not the amount of scar marks that actually ran along her back and shoulders. Some long and small, some more darker than the others that are faded and silvery from age.

The moment of surprise and questions that wanted to fall from my tongue had came to a halt when I realized Dany was clearly struggling to hide her rising stress. She’s always been self conscious about herself and I never really pressed her on things she wasn’t comfortable talking about. At least not anytime soon at the time…

Of course I didn’t press, I knew a surface level of what she had dealt with before she was found by the Guild. But I couldn’t help but feel…angry at whoever had done this to her. My tiger was definitely far aggravated under my skin I’m sure she could sense it… but I kept my cool enough to help clean current wounds that she was struggling to heal with.

The silence felt like a long time, before Dany broke it herself. It seemed like I didn’t have to wait long for an explanation, as she bluntly stated how she received such marks.

I’ll leave a lot of it to the imagination…but the deep reflection about this bit of her past was enough to bring me to tears. It.. pained me to see Dany so melancholy and almost apathetic about the situation she had been under. Similar to how I’ve often seen Dazai-san’s own expression to things he’s reflected on from his past. Hell, even me to a fault during really bad days.

It was like she was a trance-like state, she honestly barely registered much of what I tried to say out of comfort and almost frustration towards her tormentors that had convinced her of something that was out of her control. It wasn’t until I calmed down a little when focusing on some scars on her upper back and shoulders that I decided on a different form of comfort.

I had placed a lingering kiss on her shoulder, directly onto one of the longer scars there; it definitely snapped her out of her daze then, practically breathing sharply from surprise. I pressed a few more before uttering some words of comfort that definitely brought Dany to tears. Likely from the very intimate kiss upon old wounds and from pent up emotions she’s hidden away for a long time without telling anyone.

I brought her into my arms then to hold her close in warm comfort, not really paying mind to our semi-clothed state. I merely wanted to offer her love and warm validation that she had been needing to hear, especially from me. I understand what that feels like and she’s always been there for me prior to our relationship and so many times after. I reminded her of how much I loved her and wanted to always love her despite such past hurts. Much like she has with me 💖

I gave her plenty of kisses, some lingering ones and others to draw her to laugh and out of her sadness. Thankfully, it worked after a few tickling ones… giving her a lasting one on her lips...before...

Well, the moment was ruined to say the least ། – _ – ། with Yosano-sensei, Dazai-san and Kunikida-kun walking in on…Well, us in our semi-naked state… and clearly noting we had just pulled away from a kiss...

Of course, we weren’t expecting them, so we both jumped out of our skins as soon as the door opened. My first instinct was to cover up Dany with the thin sheets out of respect for her and also knowing how intimate showing her scars was. Poor Dany practically hid midway under her shadow ability, but couldn’t entirely cause of her exhausted state..

…anyway the amount of scolding we got from Kunikida-kun was a mile long and I’m sure he would have strangled me for being indecent with Dany at the Agency, despite our relationship status. Of course, I say would have had Yosano-sensei not pulled on his ear for being such a parent… Dazai-san wouldn’t leave either of us alone for a week, especially without making a few innuendos when alone with me… 😓

Thankfully, Yosano-sensei was the only one not so overwhelming, but it’s not like we avoided her giving us a reminder of the Talk and giving us..well means of protection because of the situation…;>//////> I’m sure she has some level of understanding, considering she did give Danielle a check up prior to her joining the Agency, but wanted to just tease us for the fun of it..

Ah, but yeah, a bit heavy if a topic for something that was probably meant to be funny or even suggestive (U////▽////U)''. But regardless, if that moment is ever brought up, Dany and I do laugh with a bit of a look of soft comfort between each other. No one else needs to know the moment and understanding we felt in that point of our relationship. So everyone can continue to think otherwise if they want.

What matters is the moment before with my Darling and myself more than anything. 💞 🌸

🍄: Do you and your FO follow any familial or cultural traditions together?

Dany: Oh, traditions you say? 🤔 We do follow a few from our respective cultures. I try my hardest to keep up with memories of my mum’s traditions from our Hispanic/Latino heritage. Such as the food, recipes that I have long forgotten, but have gradually began to recall. I definitely researched how to make certain dishes I remember her making with the taste or flavor or ingredients it had.

Sometimes we try and mix up the foods in our cultures to have a variety of choices and cuisine! I’ve definitely made tamalés, with help from a chief that knew how to make the food, for the winter season. Sharing it with the Agency, to which I am really grateful that everyone really enjoyed it! ;;;w;;; thank god, I was very anxious they wouldn't or it came out bad ;;;v;;;

My mother definitely celebrated Día de los Muertos, I remember we had a small ofrenda in an extra room in my old cottage home. It was tiny compared to ones I’ve seen, considering my parents didn’t have much living family at the time and it was mostly just us…but anyway, present time. Atsushi definitely was curious about the holiday and give enough encouragement to me to try and replicate something similar to what my parents use to have. Some in Japan have tiny shines dedicated to family members and vary in size depending on the family.

Atsushi surprised me with a small casing box to dedicate to my passing parents…I had no lasting photos of them since I was a child. But he managed to find some individual photos of them from a report database, along with a family photo likely from whatever remained at my old home and investigators at the time found. All with Ranpo-kun’s intellect and help (the amount of praise and gratitude I gave him for it still is true uwu, and I give him plenty sweets in thanks).

Needless to say, I was very emotional and a crying mess when he did this for me. We both give our graces and often reflect a bit by the little ofrenda/shrine casing. I tell him a lot about how my parents would have loved to meet him and undoubtedly welcome him without any hesitation. Especially my dad, who was a shapeshifting animal gifted and had a favorite animal in the form of a falcon and a tiger too. Atsushi warms up a lot hearing that.

We’ve also celebrated the Lunar New Year too! That one was definitely new to me and had no idea on the festivities it entailed. We attended some of the festivals in Yokohama during the time with the Agency, the warm atmosphere and bustling energy has been beautiful and look forward to it. More so than the normal new year, keke.

Also the sakura blossom viewings are beautiful to see, very sweet and romantic if I may say… 😊🌸 we’ve taken a small boat ride though a canal that is littered with the blooms or taken a stroll and sat together under the beautiful view 💖 (❤ ω ❤). Definitely my favorite time, and I have collected blossoms to take home for the ofredna/shrine for my parents. I even made a lamination of one for safe keeping. 🌸 Definitely one of my favorite times of the year, the next being crisp autumn 🍂 !

The art provided is a commission by @/moon-fish-ghost and captures the awe and ethereal atmosphere during the sakura blossom viewing! It is truly a beautiful and romantic experience to have with my Darling 🌸🥰 she looks so beautiful in her wear 🌸💖 and love seeing her hair in a braid 💞🥰

Thank you again for the asks! We truly appreciated them and hope you enjoy these long winded asks! We try to make them as concise as we can, but sometimes we just dive into too much detail. We hope you understand. May you have a beautiful rest of your day! —Atsushi 🐯🌙

#bungou stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #atsudany #danielle mika mason #self shipping #self shipping ask game #f/o takeover asks #self ship community #tag: we are of the moon and stars my dear #tiger roars 🐯🌙#alpha howls

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soopersara · 4 years

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Caught

AO3 | FFN

On a trip to the South Pole, the lack of sunshine takes a toll on Zuko, and Katara makes some time for snuggling.

AKA: Some ridiculously tooth-rotting fluff that I wrote for acorn_princess as a part of the Zutara Holiday Exchange (and tied to a Zutara Week Throwback prompt because that’s where I got the idea and I also don’t have the brain for titles at the moment).

⁂

They are scarcely through the door, Katara still pulling off her thick, fur lined mittens, when Zuko groans and leans against her back, arms twining around her waist and face mashing into her hair.

His weight nearly knocks her off balance, and Katara catches herself against the wall. With a laugh, she cranes her neck to look back at him.

"You could at least let me take off my coat first, Zuko."

He groans again and buries his face even deeper into her curls. "Nope. Can't."

There is a petulant edge to his voice, and Katara rolls her eyes. She peels her mittens the rest of the way off and tosses them onto the bench by the door, then kicks off her boots. For all that the cold shocked her when they arrived back at the South Pole a few days ago, she's grown accustomed to it now. She almost misses it, the coziness of the soft furs on her skin, and the delicate layer of fluff on every surface outside that mutes all the noises of the world. The comfort of a warm house after a long walk out in the snow, made all the better by the firebender by her side.

Or usually by her side. Right now, he seems determined to keep her wrapped snug in his arms, even while they're both dressed for a blizzard inside a warm house. Their house. At least for now. At least until the new embassy is complete, or until they have to turn back for the Fire Nation.

She peels his arms loose and turns to face him. Zuko makes a small, disgruntled noise, and opens his eyes just a slit.

"Oh, come on," she says, reaching up to pat his cheek. "The meeting wasn't that bad."

He considers for a second. "Not that bad," he agrees. "Better than I expected."

"So you're just pouting because you're cold?"

His mouth curves into a slight, soft pout. "I'm not pouting."

Katara brushes her thumb along his protruding lower lip. "So what's this?"

She almost expects him to cave in. She expects him to melt, to give in to her teasing and plant small, teasing kisses all over her face and as far down her neck as he can reach with the thick, fluffy collar in his way.

That's what she would do. What she has done when he teases her about the heat in the Fire Nation. What he usually does when she teases him about one thing or another.

But instead, Zuko yawns, deep and prolonged. When he is finished, Katara stares. That, she would never have expected.

Zuko catches her look of bemusement, and his face reddens. "I—um. It must be really late."

"Late?" Katara pokes him. "We still have two hours before we have to leave to meet Dad for dinner."

"But it's so dark." His pout returns, and Katara is tempted to run her finger along his lip again, just to watch his reaction.

She resists the urge and cups her hand around his cheek. "It's the South Pole, and it's not the winter solstice yet. It gets a lot darker than this."

Zuko rests his head against her hand. "It's late," he insists. "Has to be. I wouldn't be tired if it wasn't late."

She lets her voice drop into a softer, warmer tone. "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, Fire Lord."

"Hmpf. I'm pretty sure it is." He closes his eyes and nuzzles into her hand.

He draws power from the sun, Katara reminds herself. That must be it. Without the sun to fuel him, he doesn't have quite the same capacity to push himself to inhuman limits. The limits he usually abides by, spending so many hours of his days in the Fire Nation in meetings, then in poring over treaties and trade agreements and correspondence from all the other leaders of the world. Usually, he has more energy to draw on than most people, and he can push himself farther than any of them ever could.

Here, he is missing his extra source of strength. Here, even more than everywhere else, he is only human. Here, his limits find him faster.

For a little while, Katara is perfectly happy to hold his face in her hand, watching the creases in his forehead, around his mouth and his eyes smooth away. He looks peaceful in a way that he rarely does outside of sleep—but then he leans harder on her hand and starts to tilt himself ever so slightly forward to rest his weight on her chest.

"Hey!" She flicks his shoulder. "Are you sleeping?"

Eyes still shut, Zuko mumbles, "Maybe."

Katara rolls her eyes and pushes him off. "I love you, but I'm not going to keep holding you just so you can sleep standing up."

There is a short pause before Zuko pulls away. "Fine." He yawns tremendously and yanks his parka clumsily over his head.

"Get some rest before dinner," she tells him, her hand brushing against his after he hangs his parka by the door—steel gray rather than blue, just different enough to set him apart from the tribe, but similar enough that he never looks out of place. "We still have two hours."

Zuko nods groggily and presses a quick, soft kiss to her forehead before wandering off toward the bedroom. There is a soft thump, and Katara smiles. She knows that sound. She's watched him crash face-first into bed enough times to see it even without turning around, even without being in the right room. She peels off her own parka and pads after him to peer through the door.

Just as she expects, Zuko lies sprawled at an odd angle across the bed, arms splayed out to the sides and his feet dangling off the end. She shakes her head.

"Aren't you going to at least take out your crown? That doesn't look comfortable."

Zuko gives a small grunt and turns his head just far enough to peer at her through one eye. "Can't," he declares in a mumble. "Too tired."

Katara smiles and crosses her arms. "Don't think I don't recognize a ploy to get me to play with your hair when I see one."

He doesn't respond, just closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, head still turned partway back in her direction.

Lucky for him, Katara doesn't like seeing him uncomfortable, even if it's his own doing, his own laziness. And she can never resist the urge to run her hands through his hair. She crosses the room, nearly soundless, to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

Before she can reach his crown, Zuko's arm snakes out and hooks her around the waist. A surprised laugh bursts out of her, and he twists, pulling her down beside him.

"You're warm," he murmurs sleepily, and presses his face against her sternum, his arms wrapped snug around her middle.

Despite herself, Katara smiles. "And you're a ridiculous sneak."

"Didn't stop you from marrying me."

"Hmm." She rests a hand against the back of his head, playing with the binding on his topknot. "You've gotten sneakier since then."

He goes quiet, and Katara pulls the crown from his topknot, then slowly unwinds the binding until his hair spills free in glossy black streams against the fur bedspread. She runs her fingertips through his hair, then plants a small, soft kiss on the top of his head.

Zuko hardly reacts, and Katara leans back against the pillows, one arm draped around his shoulders while the other threads lightly through his hair. He must be exhausted. Normally, no kiss ever goes unnoticed, unreciprocated, no matter how small.

She trails her fingers through the length of his hair, and rubs slow circles into his scalp, soothing the places where she knows from experience that a topknot and crown pull the most against the scalp. His hair, its smooth silkiness, its fine, straight locks, never fails to fascinate her. Zuko, she knows, is much the same with her. He plays with her curls, letting them twist delicately around his fingers, at every chance he gets.

It's the contrast, she always believes. The stark difference between her curls and Zuko's straight, silken locks has to be what fills them both with such fascination. Whatever it is, though, whether she's right or wrong, she never has her fill of playing with Zuko's hair.

She feels him relax even further, the slight remaining tension in his muscles draining away. If he isn't sleeping yet, he will be soon, and she doesn't mind that. It's warm and comfortable being pressed up against him, even if she can't move without waking him, even if she has no desire to join him in slumber.

Her fingers keep twirling and smoothing bits of his hair, and before she realizes it, she is partway through braiding a narrow lock of hair just over his scarred eye. It looks nice, she decides, and stretches out an arm to retrieve a small box from the bedside table. From inside, she produces a few of the delicate golden beads he'd given her as part of her betrothal gift and begins weaving them into his hair.

When she is finished, he wears a thin braid punctuated with flashes of gold. It isn't as long as Katara's braids—he keeps his hair cropped a bit shorter than that—and it won't hang in loose, swaying loops the way that hers do if he chooses to pull it back, but she likes it. Fire Nation beads worn in a Water Tribe style look just as good on him as they do on her.

"What did you do to my hair?" His voice is sleepy and muffled, and he makes no effort to move.

Katara tilts her head to the side until she gets a clearer view of his face. His eyes are still closed. "I thought you were sleeping."

Face still pressed to her sternum, Zuko shakes his head. "Feels too nice when you play with my hair."

With a smile, she smooths the finished braid back to where his topknot would normally sit. "I gave you a loopy."

"Hmm." His hand raises clumsily upward and collides with hers before tracing the length of the little braid. He raises his head enough to blearily meet her eyes. "How does it look?"

With all his hair hanging loose and a single braid slipping out of his grasp to dangle in front of his eyes, it doesn't have quite the effect that she planned.

She sweeps his hair back away from his eyes for a moment. "Well, it isn't finished yet. But I think it's going to be very handsome with your topknot."

With a smile and a contented sigh, Zuko lays his head back down. "That sounds perfect."

Giving a small laugh, Katara lets his hair hang loose again and rests her hands on the middle of his back. "How would you know? You haven't looked in a mirror."

"I trust you." His voice is still gravelly, but his words are a little crisper, a little clearer than before.

"Terrible decision. I could do your hair up like King Bumi and you'd never know the difference."

At that, Zuko laughs too, and rolls just far enough off of her so that he can look her way without raising his head. "I really don't think you had enough time for that."

"Hmm." She turns onto her side too and scoots down the bed so she is in line with his eyes. She smooths his hair again and her hand rests against his scar for a second. "It's bold to doubt my hairstyling abilities." She watches his eyes slip shut again and leans forward to kiss his forehead. "But you win this time. No King Bumi hair."

He nods, eyes closed and expression peaceful. "Good. I don't think I could pull that off."

"I don't think King Bumi can either, but who's going to tell him that?"

He laughs again and opens his eyes, the soft golden irises skimming over her. "Have I mentioned how much I love you today?"

"Probably, but I can always stand to hear it again."

He doesn't speak, instead feeling around for her hand and pressing it gently to the lightning scar on his chest. Her heart flutters, just as it always has at the reminder of his near sacrifice.

This much, she hears his voice whisper in her mind. This much and so much more.

She can't think of a proper response, just holds her hand where he placed it, and wraps the other as far around his hands as possible. Sometimes it seems really unfair that his hands are so big compared with hers. She sometimes wishes that she could engulf him and hold him safe forever between her palms.

"I love you too," she whispers, and Zuko kisses her forehead this time.

For a while, they are both quiet, both still and content to just be. Katara watches his blinks growing slower again, his eyelids staying closed longer and longer. He's still feeling the lack of sunshine, she knows, and part of her wants to crawl out of bed just long enough to send a note of apology to Dad, just a few short lines to excuse them both from dinner, and then spend the rest of the night here beside Zuko.

But Zuko beats her to the point. "How much longer before we have to leave for dinner?" he asks, eyes closed, hands still closed around hers.

"An hour?" she guesses. "Maybe a little more than."

"Good." He moves a little closer and presses his face against her shoulder. "Can we stay here forever?"

A light laugh escapes her, and she cups her hand around his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the lower rim of the scar. "Not if we want to make it to dinner on time."

"No, here. At the South Pole."

There are too many problems they'd have to face for that, too many obstacles back in the Fire Nation and all around the world. She knows that. She knows that Zuko knows it too. She pushes back his silky hair again.

"And have you get all sleepy and silly on me every time the sun sets early? Wouldn't that bother you?"

"It's a nice kind of tired," he answers softly, nuzzling against her shoulder. "Besides, I'd get used to it. And if I didn't, still completely worth it if I could snuggle with my wife all winter long."

The beads in his single narrow braid glisten as they slide along his jawline, and Katara trails her fingertips lightly along the length of the braid. She would like that too. Her husband, her beautiful firebender, and someday, their children too, all calling this place home. All traveling the world together, but always returning here.

"Someday," she answers in a whisper. "Maybe someday we will."

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #zuko #katara #listen #the request was for fluff at the South Pole #I delivered fluff at the South Pole #also I was brainstorming while lying in bed #so...#that's where that came from #soopersara's scribbles

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snapefiction · 4 years

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#12. Gingerbread House - Snapemas Challenge

A/N: Day 12 of Snapemas! I hope you like it!

Idea from @deepperplexity ´s Writing Challenge ! Check her Writings and the other Snapemas posts out! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: none

Warnings: Mention of Death and Violence

Word count: 504

#12.Gingerbread House

He wasn’t always in a bad mood. Just most of the Time. Being a double Spy was not only exhausting but also draining every drop of happiness out of him. This Constant Stress was just too much. That’s why he had his usual frown on his face as he walked into the fifth Class of dunderheads trying to teach them something about Potions. But most of the Time he was fantasising about how a normal life was or maybe just a night with more than 3 hours of sleep. There was nothing who or what made him happy anymore but the fact that he didn’t got killed- no cancel that. He’d prefer getting killed at this Point by now but Merlin had other Plans for him.

,,Professor? Are you celebrating Christmas?“ This Blonde Ravenclaw Girl asked him. Sighing he just closed his eyes trying not to shout at her. ,,I don’t, Mrs. Jefferson.“ Again he tried to start his class but she raised her hand again. ,,What?“ He was now gritting through his Teeth. Minerva told him to have more patience with the younger classes, he was trying, really, but they were testing him so much.

,,And why not? Everyone does?“ Do. Not. Throw. Your. Book. At. Her. Don’t do it Severus. Don’t. Taking a deep breath he got closer to her desk. ,,Because I don’t like bitter events like this childish excuse of romanticising a completely normal day.“ Severus gritted. He’d love a coffee. He’d kill for a coffee or a Firewhiskey. Her blue eyes looked clear like glass and by her smiling he knew she didn’t understand a word of what he just said. Walking back to the front of the Class he started teaching. Let this day finally end he thought to himself at 9 am.

24th December

Christmas was the only Holiday whenever no students would dare to annoy him. It was like a set rule not to disturb him. That’s why it was also the only day out of the 365 days in total that he enjoyed entering his Potions Classroom. Not believing his eyes he saw something standing on his Desk. Getting closer he was already annoyed again. This counted as an disturbance, at least he’d mark it as one.

On his Desk was a small Gingerbread House standing together with an Christmas Card. The House was not really pretty, more like shaky and not very well done. Taking the yellow Card between his way taller fingers he began to read.

,,Dear Professor Snape, You said that chrismas Christmas was bitter, but its not. I hope you like the gingerbread house I did for yuo. Yours Darcy Jefferson :)“

Eyeing the Gingerbread House again he sighed again. It suddenly wasn’t as bad anymore as before and when he looked closer she even tried to draw a small person with dark hair out of food colouring. How dared she to be nice to him as he tried to be mean all day long? She really caught him off guard.

Taglist: @deepperplexity , @monstreviolet , @wow-life-love4

Let me know if you want to be added in my Taglist. :)

#severus snape #snape #prosnape #snapemas #snapemas2020 #my writing #snapefiction

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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From the Darkest Night || Morgan, Blanche, Jasmine, Constance, & Agnes

TIMING: Current/the night of the solstice. After Morgan’s and Constance’s choices.

PARTIES: @harlowhaunted @halequeenjas @constancecunningham Agnes Bachman (written by @chloeinbetween )

SUMMARY: Death has been and left its mark with winter’s bleakness, cold and stark. The tides of darkness turn.

Constance must be stopped. Morgan faces the truth.

CONTAINS: violence, death, exorcism

The steering wheel cracked on the Subaru as Morgan swerved around the slick, snow-covered streets. She sped past the red-green stream of traffic lights, muttering, “Fucking, fucking, fucking fuck...what are we gonna do about this, how do we fix this, what is my fucking plan, stars a--” Morgan slammed on the brake and turned the wheel violently again. The Subaru jumped the curb and wailed to a stop. In front of her was a stream of anxious cars, all trying to squeeze down the narrow way out of town, toward the highway. From the crest of the road, Morgan could see some of the mess they were escaping: dented street lamps and snapped power lines, dizzy shadows of wounded, disoriented people and gory splashes of siren lights. Whatever Morgan had let Constance get away with, it was big. Morgan revved back and hopped through any street she could to get to the rendezvous point in the outskirts, dodging stunned, frightened holiday-goers. Whatever they warned her about, she didn’t hear. She just needed to get to Jasmine, Blanche, and Agnes. Constance was bound to try her luck on the East End when she was done pitching a fit on this side of the river. And then what? She’d find out that Morgan’s house was still warded up tight and she wasn’t even home and Deirdre had enough salt in the house to prevent any warm-up carnage. And then what? If there was anything good left in the universe, no one would have to find out.

Morgan slowed when she found the group, already working on something. She stepped out of the car. “I’m--I--” This wasn’t the time to be pathetic. This may not even be the time to be sorry. “I’m here now,” she said. “Do we know where Constance is? Or what the plan is? Or--” She couldn’t tell if it was her guilt talking or not, but Morgan had the distinct feeling that no one was impressed by her questions. “Tell me how I can help. I would like to help, please.”

Something akin to anger had been boiling up inside Jasmine as she drove to the abandoned lot in the Outskirts Blanche had directed her to. There should have never been a chance for Constance to wreak havoc on the Common. This should have been done months ago when she had initially tried to make Constance pass on. If her concentration hadn’t been broken, it’d be both Constance and Nancy gone. But no, Constance was still here and a full on poltergeist which was going to make things more difficult now. She had to drive by the damage on the way to the Outskirts and her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. A hint of smoke was still in the air and everything was blown out of place. The number of ambulances on the scene only served to make her more angry. Constance wouldn’t have the chance to do this again. She quickly jumped out of the car when she got to the lot and looked over Blanche a handful of times before she was entirely convinced the girl was in fact okay. Well, relatively speaking at least. She’d directed Blanche to help her set everything up as Morgan arrived. They had to act quickly and Morgan being here meant Constance would be sooner rather than later. Under less rushed circumstances, she would have let her anger towards Morgan out. As it stood, she simply gave her an annoyed look and said, “She had left the Common and will likely be seeking you out seeing as you’re the one she has the whole revenge vendetta crap with… which is at least convenient since you’re here and cooperating now.” There was a bit of a bite to her tone that she couldn’t be bothered to hide. “Well, you’re pretty much bait at the moment, but since you have the benefit being able to see her and be on the more durable side, I’m going to ask that you keep myself or Blanche from getting impaled by something.”

Agnes felt hollow, like the blood spilled on the street had been drained right out of her. She hadn’t expected that, to have her bitterness and fury thrown back in her face with the weight of an anvil. Nothing Constance had thrown at her had done any kind of damage, but when a street light had buckled under the force of Constance’s rage, Agnes moved by instinct, lowering it to the ground so gently it couldn’t crush anyone. It was only when it was set down so carefully that the glass in the bulb hadn’t broken that Agnes cracked, once Constance was gone and she could let herself grieve just another one of her failures. But this one had been Constance’s too. That was what she’d seen, in the second before. Constance had made a choice, as she had when she’d cast her curse, when she had as she’d tried to kill Morgan over and over. Constance was no longer the girl Agnes had loved. She hadn’t been, even before she’d become a poltergeist. So Agnes had let her grief break the light in the downed street post, and had pulled herself together to look for a plan, following her heart back to Morgan, and this terrible, empty space, clinging to the walls as she tried to tuck her grief back inside her perfectly acceptable clothes.

Time wasn’t passing correctly for Blanche as she sped away from the carnage on the common. Moments in time had been plucked from her memory, dissolving into static and cold numbness. She only really came into focus once Morgan showed up, jolted back into reality at the heated anger boiling under her skin. She said nothing, keeping her face blank as she stared at Morgan, hearing the bite in Jasmine’s words. Blanche was pleased that Jasmine seemed to be feeling similarly to her. She looked away from Morgan, busying herself with finally trying to settle her appearance. She looked like -- well, like she had just been thrown into a giant Christmas tree. She pulled her hair back and started picking off pine needles from her newly ruined winter jacket. “We need to get her here,” Blanche said tonelessly. Focus. The voice in her head was now her own, reminding her that the pain in her side or anywhere else didn’t matter. Cracked ribs, exhaustion, and bruises were something she could live with for now. “Constance is on a rampage, and she no longer cares about who she takes out in her quest to kill Morgan,” Blanche said to Jasmine. It was easiest to talk to Jasmine, rather than to the group as a whole. Between Agnes setting off her already overstimulated senses and the building anger when she looked at Morgan, her head was starting to hurt pretty badly. “I don’t know how we want to do this, but we need to get her here before she devastates another highly populated area.” The image of the gazebo going up into flames came to her mind and any color left in her face drained. “Constance needs to know Morgan is here. Or think she’s here.”

Morgan hadn’t expected a warm welcome from anyone, but somehow the sharp, pragmatic snaps were worse than any volley of yelling she’d braced herself for on the way over. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I’m...yes, I’m cooperating. I know I screwed up, and you guys were right, okay? I…” I can’t let anymore people die tonight because of me. Morgan swallowed that particular wish down. She was in enough trouble without explaining Miriam to anyone. “I can try to bait her. Find her. She’s probably headed to my house, right? Maybe I can draw her out here...but, uh…” She would need someone to help run interference if she really wanted to make it home in the morning. But looking between Jasmine and Blanche, that didn’t seem like something she could ask for. They couldn’t take the fall for this.

Morgan’s eyes slid over to Agnes, who had remained silent since her arrival. “Would you help me? Come with me, run interference so we can get her back here for sure?” Her eyes pleaded with her. “I know I screwed everything up, but we can still do something. Not as much as we should’ve, but something.” It wouldn’t be enough, because pain wasn’t something you could measure down to the last milligram and weigh even with carbon and silicon. You couldn’t throw it at someone like an axe and find yourself lighter or trade it like money for happiness in exchange. However you got rid of pain, it wasn’t like that.

“The two of us together will quickly draw her ire,” Agnes agreed listlessly, staring at a point past all of them and right into her past. Into the lie neither of them had truly ever been permitted to heal from, and the crushing weight of her mother’s suspicions for the rest of her life. Constance was gone. Whatever she had hoped to achieve here had failed most spectacularly, hope scorched from the earth like that damned tent. “I will do what I must.”

While they were finally on a united front, Jasmine had never been good at hiding any sort of disdain she felt. She’d never found much point in it either, even in a business setting, her customers seemed to appreciate her never relenting honesty. “Sounds like a plan. Maybe avoid taking the more populated route here,” she said, the edge still more than evident in her tone. Her glance was cast at Morgan though she was still unsure about this Agnes ghost hanging around. Her attention focused back to Blanche who seemed to be in a somewhat catatonic state that left her concerned. As Morgan and Agnes left, she spent a few moments explaining the steps in preparation to Blanche. She wasn’t sure the younger woman would ever like to learn exorcisms, but it still seemed beneficial for her to pick some things up along the way. She closed off the circle of salt and let out a sigh. She broke the quiet and asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” It was clear she was taking this badly and Jasmine needed to help her find her strength for these next steps.

Blanche listened to Jasmine, unsure if she was truly absorbing everything Jasmine was telling her. She supposed they would find out if they were ever put into this position again. When Jasmine broke the quiet, she glanced up from one of the symbols she was examining in the ground, staring back at her. “I -” Blanche started, her throat thick with emotion she hadn’t realized appeared upon Morgan and Agnes’ departure. “I did everything right -- She’s the one that chose this.” Blanche wasn’t certain if she was talking about Morgan or Constance anymore. She realized then her anger wasn’t directed completely at Morgan’s choices. It was at both of them. Both of them were wrong, and Blanche had practically broken herself trying to make them see right. What was the point? Was there even a point in trying? There was a broken feeling in her that she couldn’t explain, but it hurt worse than any of the injuries she had put together. Blanche numbly wondered if it was disappointment. “I don’t want to talk about this now,” Blanche said as the pain in her ribs jerked her back to reality again. She wiped her eyes before tears could spill. “I’ll do what we have to, Jas… Everything else…” Her voice cracked. “Everything else can come later, can’t it?”

Jasmine nodded as Blanche spoke and noted how raw the emotion in her voice was. How she seemed so much smaller than her already small size. Broken down in a way that seemed far too dire for someone so young. She placed a reassuring hand on Blanche’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know, you can do everything right sometimes and people can still let you down. I hate to say it, but more often than not that’s the case.” It was evident to Jasmine that somehow Blanche’s sense of self worth was tied into this which she just couldn’t wrap her head around. Morgan had previously been unreasonable and Constance had been a ghost fueled by vengeance for over a century. “None of that says anything about you,” she assured as a chilled gust of wind came through the lot. Thankfully nothing was displaced, but somehow it made the moment feel morose. They had to press forward though. There was no other option. “And we’re not done here yet,” she said to remind Blanche.

“I'll have to get used to disappointment,” Blanche replied, and the pain and anger that swelled in her chest was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of numbness. All her senses dulled, and she relaxed herself into a state of nothing. Her gaze rested on the circle, a sense of finality in the air. “No,” she agreed, glancing at her watch. “But we will be soon.”

Morgan stopped counting how many traffic violations she racked up well before she scraped past the bridge by riding the shoulder and swerving through lanes to get to her street. Constance left a trail of debris big and small in her wake. It was almost funny: when Morgan laid eyes on her up the road, standing in the road outside of Morgan’s house with Christmas lights strobing manically around her, she still looked as small and grubby as she’d ever been. No demonic glow in her pale eyes or costume upgrade like a comic book villain. Just a girl, frail and dangerous.

“I’d really like to be able to survive this so I can un-fuck my life afterwards,” Morgan whispered, fear turning her voice shrill. “I don’t know how much you know about zombies, but if she busts my head, I’m finished. So if you could run interference with her projectile playtime, that’d be great. And uh, you have full permission to hitch a ride or take over if you happen to come up with a plan, because I kind of don’t have one besides ‘make her mad and get out of here fast.’”

As she spoke, Constance drifted closer to the house, phasing through the stacks of cars crammed onto the driveway. Deirdre’s plan to get the families into the one house that was warded must have worked, but stars above, that didn’t make the scene look any less terrifying. Morgan shut her eyes and braced herself. Deirdre’s got her side and you’ve got yours. You don’t need to do this together, you just need to do it.

Sparks flew up from a reindeer next door. Rudolph’s lights went out just as his antlers turned into a halo of fire. He slowly came apart into his sharp-edged assembly required pieces and rose, trembling, into the air.

“Hey, Connie!” Morgan shouted, leaning halfway out the car window. “The real party’s right here! Are you gonna throw a tantrum all night or are you gonna kill me?”

Rudolph crashed against Morgan’s kitchen windows and bounced to the floor. Banshee proofing the glass was good for something after all. But that was where the good news ended. Morgan had wanted to get Constance’s attention, and now she had it.

Agnes felt more hollow than she had in decades in Morgan’s vehicle, her hands clasped in her lap. Her gaze distantly ahead of them as they made the same pilgrimage she had weeks ago. She was so still she almost missed Morgan’s fleeting admission. She did not say that Beck women were as prone to ruining their lives as they were prone to falling in love with other women. There was no fix, no un-fuck. There was only a tornado in the breeze of the woman she had loved. “I can do that.”

“I was never one for plans nor bravery,” Agnes replied quietly, still as empty in tone as the air that she inhabited. “Should I see the opportunity, I will take it, although I hope I will not have to.” Agnes was not sure that if she had a body again even for a moment that she would find it easy to let go. She also had little idea what a plan might even look like, other than to channel all of Constance’s rage into one place. There was little time for further hesitation as Morgan stretched out of the window and called for Constance. At the same time, Agnes floated through the roof of the car, letting Constance see her again in invitation. Her eyes met Constance’s for a long moment, perhaps hoping to see anything that she had before here, but there was nothing, more rage than woman. The letterbox was ripped out of the ground, and hurtled at their car with deadly force. Agnes extended her hand, but only pushed it enough sideways to only scrape the paint off the vehicle. There was an implicit challenge in her gaze as she looked back to Constance. Do your worst.

Constance had never imagined what Morgan and Agnes side by side would look like, it was too cruel, too wrong, to consider. Like a mirror cracked and doubled, they turned their heads toward her, eye wide and stupid as deer. She knew what they wanted, and she had half a mind not to give it to them. Perhaps she couldn’t get past the wards around the house, but she could rip everything else to pieces, could she not? But that was another trick in itself. As much as Constance burned to see the defiance stomped out of Morgan Beck’s face, she wanted to see her perish even more. Right before Agnes’ eyes, if she could have it so. Let Agnes see the curse finish before her eyes. Let her break the way Constance broke, let her whither and confront her own cruelty and her crimes.

Constance turned away and charged toward the car.

“Maybe cowardice is genetic,” Morgan shrugged. “But we do what we gotta for the people who--shit!” She had just enough time to pop back in and rev the car in reverse, shooting into someone’s minivan before Constance barreled through the windshield shattering it inward. “Probably should've seen that coming,” she said. Morgan met her eyes and her stomach lurched. She thought she had seen murder in her face before, but this was different. This was beyond desire or rage, this was as close to will and magic as a ghost could get. Morgan looked down the street and at the flicker of passing sirens and traffic lights. She was going to get shredded up and down the interstate if she tried to race Constance, and everyone just trying to drive home for the holidays, going to the grocery store, or trying to get the hell out of here for good.

“We gotta go!” Morgan dove out of the car as Constance vanished into the console, taking control of the wheel. She took off into the nearest yard, crashing through a fence before she coordinated herself enough to vault over another. She landed all wrong, bending the bones in her leg sideways but kept going. Running to the outskirts wasn’t going to be any fun, but maybe it would save a few lives. “Fuck, I hate this! You wouldn’t know how to climb things, would you?”

Agnes froze, understanding the implications of Morgan’s question. There had been games played in trees when she’d been a child, stretching for the highest, ripest apples in the trees. Then there had been the times she had to leverage herself into small nooks and crannies to find herself a moment’s peace from her husband’s incessant demands, and teaching her children how to hide and run from the events of the curse. She wouldn’t have ever described herself as a good climber, but she could do better than this, surely?

It wasn’t really even a question of whether she could. If Morgan could not clear the route back to Jasmine and Blanche, then Agnes might have found even fresher ways to fail her family. Agnes reached out, through Morgan’s hand, her arm, and then right to her heart. It did not beat, but it still hummed with energy. There was a small nook under her aorta. Agnes envisioned herself pouring into that nook like treacle out of a jug, except that there were no space limits at all. Once there, she expanded out, out, out, until she filled Morgan like she had once filled herself. It took her a moment to reorient herself where gravity had an effect, but then she was off, hurling through the outskirts faster than her human body could ever have sustained. Agnes had not felt physical pain in decades, and was less careful because of it, but she was also faster.

There was a moment of biting cold, the first Morgan had felt since she’d died, then a wave of grief, like there were too many sobs stuck in her chest, drowning her from the bottom of her lungs and up to her mouth. “Agnes,” she gasped—then there was quiet and a darkness almost like sleep.

Constance saw the Bachman women collide and disappear into the trees, scrambling like a squirrel from a fox. She seethed and electricity cackled from the power lines above her, but only a flicker. No flames, no splitting wood. Something inside Constance was breaking further, something Iike strength. She held no more illusions of love and hope and wishing, but it burned worse than any flame to see Agnes choose Morgan, help Morgan, save Morgan. Always Morgan and her wretched happiness, her stolen life. “You’re mine!” Constance shrieked.

She followed them, tearing through the dark as the pair, now bound into one body, raced over the bridge and up to the outskirts. The wind roared with each of her screams, topping them over and knocking them into the trees. Windows trembled and bowed in the automobiles she passed. On they went. Constance surged behind her once, too furious to concentrate enough to pull on their hair or throw them into the river. She tried to reach inside, to worm her way in. If she had been more clever, she would have done this from the start and forced Morgan to her doom. But she only phased through and watched helpless as the Morgan-Agnes creature vanished into the woods. She pulled on every thread of energy she hand and sped through. She would snap her neck, she would pick her up and run her through every branch in the forest. Constance reached for the pair again and sneered with satisfaction when they went flying and tumbled into the street. “You did this! You did all of this! You killed me!” She tossed them with the force of her will again. Morgan-Agnes rattled to their feet, like a puppet pulled on all the wrong strings and fell again. “You need to pay for what you did! All of you!” She was so fixated on spending herself making the pair suffer at once, she didn’t see Blanche or the circle set in the ground. Her world had burned down to a single thread of pain and Constance would unravel it down to the last fiber.

If the howling of the wind and the thudding of Morgan’s body being thrown about wasn’t enough indication that Constance was there, the bone chilling sensation that ran under her skin would have. There was no time for Jasmine to ponder the situation. Think the moment over. It was something her aunt had taught her early on; develop an instinct so sharp that you could act swiftly. “This is it,” she told Blanche before clasping the young woman’s hand in her right hand and the gem of her aunt’s necklace in her left. While Blanche couldn’t chant the words with her, her energy could give Jasmine the edge she needed to get them all out of here alive. Constance barreled through like a storm, sights only set on Morgan who judging by the extra nerves firing off inside her was possessed by Agnes. The thunderous rage in her eyes could not make Jasmine back down. This had always been inevitable and she would go about this in the kindest way for the girl Constance once was. The familiar Latin chants poured from her mouth with her voice even and strong. Her focus would not be deterred no matter how much chaos Constance brought in her wake. She kept repeating the part of the ritual that would draw Constance into the salt circle. Once. Twice. Three times. As many times as it took.

Agnes felt the ice filling her - Morgan’s - brain, as Constance tried to squeeze inside too, to rip them both from the inside out. Unsure of what else to do, Agnes just ran through her, wincing as the place their hearts might have been touched in ways they hadn’t been permitted in life. Far too late now. She could hardly remember the route that Morgan had driven, unfamiliar with this terrain, but she could feel the medium Constance had been with before like Blanche was a flame and she was but a moth. Perhaps it was that Blanche had already summoned her once, perhaps it was the second light that was the exorcist beside her. She found her way to them, only to lose sight of Constance. Agnes barely responded as Morgan’s skin was scraped by their landing, the burning bending of her bones. She could barely get the body upright before Constance threw them again. The words stung more than the jerking of this body, but Agnes was careful to protect the head. “You did this, Constance.” She replied eventually, in a voice as much her own as Morgan’s. “You made your choices too.” Agnes hardly believed her words, but she needed to keep Constance’s attention on them, not on Jasmine or Blanche.

Blanche’s grip on Jasmine’s hand was so tight, she was sure Jasmine was going to yell at her for it, but as the icy feeling spread through her body as Constance and Agnes (via Morgan) approached had her holding on for dear life. This was the one moment she wished she could help, that she knew the right words and the right power to end this now. She didn't want to watch Constance become nothing while the memory of her twirling under the Christmas lights still hung close to her mind. It was a happy memory tainted with anger and murder, and Blanche trembled as she focused on pushing every last ounce of energy she had into Jasmine. She wanted to close her eyes to spare herself of watching Constance unravel, but things were bound to fly and it wouldn't be safe for anyone, especially Jasmine, if she shut her eyes tight. Words sounded like static, and Blanche let in a deep breath as she tried her best to focus on Jasmine’s voice rather than the ghost fight in front of her. She understood their intent even if she didn't know the translation itself, and as Constance’s shrieking echoed in her ears, Blanche reminded herself there was no other way. All options had been exhausted. She was exhausted and this was it.

It passed in an instant, like the jolt you got from snapping awake after a nightmare: Morgan was sliding helplessly over the yards in the East End, and then she was on the ground, struggling to get her bent bones to hold her up. The air burned her cheeks, her skin torn to shreds from scraping along the asphalt. Staggering to her feet, she saw a sideways view of Blanche, trembling with the fierceness of her reserve. “I’m---I---” Her words crackled in her throat. Right, she needed to breathe with her ribs bowing through them in five places. She winced as the ground vanished and crashed to the grass again. You’d think after all this time, she’d be used to it.

“No!” Constance screamed. Her voice twisted in the air, wailing with pain that went beyond nerves and feeling. It was as though she had become it and burst, splattering her anguish like blood. But the circle surged with light and all the wind in the air wasn’t enough to keep Constance from falling into it. She reached out with both hands, her airy fingers trembling with strain. She looked to Blanche. She should have known. From the first moment Blanche had come up to her at the funeral, she should have guessed. Blanche hadn’t been a spy or a cheat, but she had not been her friend or anything else Constance had deluded herself into wishing for. “I should’ve ended you!” She sobbed. “How could you make me this!”

Morgan finally got to her feet, cradling herself as she staggered to the edge of the circle. The circle seemed to be pulling on Constance’s clothes with a hundred fingers. But Morgan knew there was nothing to tear or pull on but her. Tears, thin and wispy as frost fell from the corners of her eyes and vanished into the circle of light. Maybe it was the magic, or just how little all their pain amounted to, but Morgan couldn’t see the ghost from her nightmares or her paranoias anymore. Only a raw, anguished nerve wrapped in a hurt girl. Morgan couldn’t think of anything sadder or more familiar than that. “I’m...sorry,” she breathed. “I get it, I do. You had to do something to stop feeling this way. It’s the worst kind of hurt to see everything you love fall away and find yourself in the last place you wanted. I know, Constance. And I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. None of you are. Not once!”

Morgan stared into her trembling, translucent eyes, which seemed to grow as the rest of her came apart. “I know that feeling too. And I’m sorry, honey. I’m even sorry it has to be over. I am, okay? But whether you believe it or not, you’re not alone anymore. And it’s not enough, but it’s what we’ve got. Let go now, okay? Let it stop hurting. Please.”

Jasmine had been well practiced at tuning out chaos. Hell, she’d spent a good chunk of her life ignoring the ghosts around her once she realized others couldn’t see them. This was no different. This needed to end here and now and that meant her full concentration was mandatory. Blanche’s hand was grasped tightly in her own, almost to a painful extent, but there was no pausing her chants now. The thought of how tight her grip was for such a small person flashed through her mind for a moment, but the intent remained. Constance’s soul would be destroyed tonight. It wasn’t the preferred route, but Constance’s own choices had led her here. She ignored the chill that surged through her body and kept pushing through the words. Constance was being pulled into the circle now and would soon be trapped there until this was all through. That wouldn’t stop her from throwing a ghostly temper tantrum in the meantime, but it was a start.

Once Constance was trapped in the salt circle, Jasmine continued on to the next part of the ritual. Branches and rubble flew all around them. She found strength and power both in Blanche’s grip. Getting them out of here and ending this now would push her through. Her voice shouted over the howling of the wind and she gave Constance a harsh gaze to let her know she wasn’t backing down. Jasmine never stood down. A few lone sticks and stones had hit her, but they felt lighter than they should have and only left minor bruises and scratches in their wake. She was sure she had Agnes to thank for that. It made it apparent she could tune out her surroundings a bit more safely. She hardly picked up on any of the chatter around her though she was almost sure it was namely from Constance.

Constance’s wind was weakening now and continued to do so the more she chanted. Jasmine could see her form fading now. Only a few more repetitions and they would be poltergeist free and she could turn her attention back to Blanche who was clearly distressed. She was holding up though which was a true testament to the potential she held. The shrieks coming from Constance were nearly muted now and the wind was dying down as she fought to stay on this plane or at least take Morgan with her. It was sad to see someone so young so utterly taken over by rage that they hardly resembled a person anymore, but choices always had consequences. One final shrill sound escaped Constance before she faded away completely. The thrashing wind calmed and rubble fell to the ground.

The calm after a tough exorcism was always strange. The calm after the storm is what she could say if she wanted to be cliche. Jasmine could barely feel her legs like jelly underneath her so she took a moment to steady herself before she softly said, “It’s over now. She’s gone.” With her energy levels being severely lowered, she hardly even had it in her to shoot Morgan an annoyed glance. It came across as more of a grimace, but she guessed when it came down to it, Morgan made the right choice.

Beyond anything, Blanche wished there was some comfort to the wailing woman in the middle of the circle, caught as Jasmine’s ritual unraveled her soul for the last time. She said nothing because she didn’t want to distract Jasmine and, more distinctly, there was nothing to say. The poltergeist’s essence had cast a cold layer of ice under her skin, and she wasn’t able to feel anything at all except the energy leaving her body and her soul being destroyed. Slowly, her body began to warm, the ice thawing as Constance was no more. She knew immediately when it was over, but found herself unwilling to let go of Jasmine’s hand, clutching it hard until the sudden wave of dizziness passed. Blanche refused to pass out. She refused to go down now.

After a moment, Blanche allowed herself to let go of Jasmine’s hand and sink down to the icy ground. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t rip her eyes from the spot Constance had been. “... I tried,” Blanche whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried.” Hot anger swelled in her again, burning through whatever ice was left in her body. With fire came pain. The pain in her ribs raged to the point where tears pricked her eyes, and the small cuts and bruises from the evening was an overwhelming ache that almost set her outwardly sobbing. Worse yet was the pressure of guilt and grief sticking in her chest. Blanche sank backward into the snow, letting the cold numb herself back up because now that it was over, there were no more choices to make.

It was Constance’s blow that pushed Agnes out of Morgan’s body, which forced Agnes to face the reality of the circle. Somehow, without ears made of flesh and bone, she felt Constance’s scream all the more keenly, rippling through every part of her. It was easier to turn her back on her, once again, and steel her heart as she formed a buffer around Morgan, Blanche and Jasmine, beating back as much debris as she could. When the screams ended and the debris calmed down, Agnes looked faint even beyond her normal pallor. Agnes collapsed to her knees, staring at the circle and wondering if being in there might have been better. Now there was nothing but to return to the painful monotony of eternity.

Morgan stared at the empty spot where the girl had been. The whole time, she hadn’t broken Constance’s gaze once, even as her face dulled in its ghostly sheen and unraveled like an old patchwork quilt. It was too terrifying to watch the threads of her dissolve into the light, nothing and nowhere, not even ash or goo. Her eyes, the last recognizable part of her humanity, streamed with hurt. At the end, her screams were so quiet they sounded more like a child’s cry. When the last sound died and Constance Cunningham was no more, Morgan’s ears rang with their echo. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the nothing, hanging her head. Her fingers twitched, aching to take Constance’s hurt and feel something of her and understand just a little better. But there was nothing.

She pressed her hand to her chest, righting the bones that hadn’t sprung back the right way. Her two lifetimes of hurt still throbbed in her dead heart. Nothing won. Nothing changed. Just a dull, unending ache. But there was no beat to pace it evenly; only more nothing. Where did the pain go? Constance’s pain should have drained the earth or razed the forest. She had taken down bodies and destroyed neighborhoods, but those would get fixed or spawn new wounds to fester and twist until they spawned more of their own. But where was the rest of it? Where was the mound that buried it for good? Was becoming nothing the only answer? No. There had to be something better. Even if she couldn’t trade pain for peace and happiness, even if it was completely worthless (and stars above, it sure as fuck was starting to feel that way) it had to be able to go somewhere else. This couldn’t be the only way. Morgan’s fingers reached out, cradled the nothing left behind it in her palm, and as the tears she’d held in came free and blurred her vision with a moonlit sheen, it almost looked like a piece of magic had landed on her fingertip. “I’m sorry,” Morgan whispered again. She sagged on her feet and crushed the illusion in her hand.

#wr blanche #wr chatzy #wr blanche chatzy #wr jasmine #wr jasmine chatzy #wr agnes #wr agnes chatzy #wr constance #wr constance chatzy #the darkest night #wickedswriting

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beyondconfessor · 4 years

Text

Principle Decisions [15/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Zelda Spellman/Lilith

Summary: “Mm. And why would that cause you to stop?” she asked. “Be a good girl and let me hear you.”

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Zelda panted, pushing onto her hands and knees, only for Lilith to grab her. “Careful,” she said.

“I’m being careful!” Zelda snapped, and then groaned, dropping her face back to the mattress. Her muscles were sore in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Aching from holding herself at different angles.

Beside her, Lilith snickered. “I told you: be careful.”

“I’m fine,” she huffed, and then tried again. Pushing herself up, she felt the aches wash down her limbs, before she was able to inelegantly shuffle off the bed and into a standing position. Her legs were unsteady, but as she drew in a breath and righted herself on her feet, she felt the discomfort shift.

“Well,” Lilith said, lying on her side with no right in looking so hellishly good. Her hair was mussed, but there was a glow to her, even with the lipstick marks over her body. Zelda couldn’t help but think that Lilith came out of it looking like she was an empress who had been satisfied by her harem, whereas Zelda merely felt spent.

Though that could be because Lilith did all the fucking and Zelda just took.

“I’m sure you remember the way to the bathroom,” Lilith teased. It was downstairs, Zelda realised with a groan. There were welts on her ass and thighs, drawing up to just below her lower back, across her hips, and she knew that walking down that steps was going to make her painfully aware of each mark. “Unless you need some help?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of walking down a few steps.”

“You took a lot,” Lilith reminded, grinning as she moved some of the toys on the bed, drawing Zelda’s attention to them. They had been…zealous in their adventures and Zelda had only had to use the safe word once––as a panted advice that she could not take another orgasm. And then Lilith had slid out of her as carefully as possible.

There’d been sex and pain and bondage and the more sex and pain and bondage––and now Zelda had the unfortunate situation of rope burn on her wrist when she’d tried to twist to snark back at Lilith in the middle of her tying, who’d then lectured her for over five minutes about how to move in ropes––truly the worst punishment she’d faced that night.

She made her way down the stairs, biting back the whimpers, before she was creeping down the hall, to the bathroom. There, she managed to climb into the bathtub before sitting down in it as she filled it.

Not only were her muscles fatigued, but there was a bone deep exhaustion that weighed her down as she dropped back against the edge of the tub. For a moment, she closed her eyes, sure that the bathroom light would keep her awake––only to be awoken by Lilith turning off the taps.

Blinking her eyes open, she noticed the tub was dangerously high to spilling over.

“Try not to flood my bathroom,” Lilith chastised, handing her a mug of coffee as she lifted the plug and let it drain halfway before setting it back down.

Zelda tiredly took the drink, taking a sip. The liquid spilt down her throat and with it, Zelda felt a warmth slide through her chest.

“What time is it?”

“Just past three,” Lilith said. “Now scoot forward.”

Pushing up, Zelda moved forward in the tub and watched as Lilith undressed from her robe, sliding into the bathtub behind her. And then she was coaxing Zelda to lean back against her.

Zelda felt her nerves electrify with the touch. She wanted to ask what this meant, the casual intimacy of it all. Now that they were in a D/s relationship, how did that compare to being in an actual relationship?

But Lilith’s hands were around her waist and Zelda felt a tightness in her chest. If this wasn’t a romantic relationship, if they weren’t together like that, she wanted to pretend for a few moments longer. Let the world be washed new.

It was too early to worry about such things.

Lilith’s fingers drew over her skin, drawing patterns on her waist and shoulder and Zelda felt herself sigh, the anxiety of the intimacy slipping away (though there was a base fear, still, underneath it all that she was letting her heart slip into Lilith’s hands too easily).

It’d been so long since she’d had so much intimacy showered on her. It seemed that all it took was a woman’s soft hands holding her to realise that the ache in her chest had been loneliness. She’d worked herself to the point that she had no friends, no one to depend on, not even Hilda. And yet, with Lilith, there was nothing being asked of her.

It might change and shift, but for now, it was a quiet moment, and the woman’s body was warm as it held her.

“There’s an event coming up,” Lilith whispered, gently stirring her. Zelda felt the cup taken from her hands and set aside on the tiles of the bathroom. “You don’t have to participate or feel obligated to attend, but I thought I’d propose it, given the shift in our relationship.”

“What event?” she asked, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“An orgy,” Lilith said. “To celebrate the coming Yule.”

“You’re a witch, then?”

“A few friends are pagan, but mostly it’s for the thrill of it,” she explained, her fingers drawing over Zelda’s skin in a soothing pattern, across her abdomen, and then up to her ribs. “They’re very good people. Beautiful too, though they’ll pale in comparison to you,” and there she pressed a kiss on Zelda’s shoulder.

“So it’s flattery now?”

“I would quite enjoy it if you came.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“Mm, and with spectators who are equally excited to be there,” she said, and then her lips were on Zelda’s throat and there was a familiar tingling fluttering through Zelda’s body again.

“And if I attend, what will occur?”

“Sex, food, wine,” Lilith said, kissing over her neck. “There’ll be…oh, a great many other things. They’re all fascinating people. There’s one or two, especially, that I feel you’ll enjoy the company of.”

Zelda laughed and then felt a moan catch in her throat as the woman’s mouth continued to kiss her neck. “When?” she asked.

“The twenty-first.”

“Mm, I’ll see if I’m available,” she answered with a soft laugh. And then felt as a hand slid between her legs.

“Are you still spent, my handmaiden?” Lilith asked, her fingers drawing over her gently. Zelda hummed. She was tired, so tired, but there was a growing warmth between her legs.

“One more,” she said.

“One more,” Lilith agreed, and kissed her jaw, just below her ear.

Zelda felt the fingers slide over her sex and then, even in the delirium of exhaustion, she felt the ache return as she rolled her head back against Lilith’s shoulder and panted at the mercy of her fingers until the orgasm trembled from her.

It was small and delicate, and yet Zelda let out a breathy laugh, feeling the dopamine wash over her. Lilith had an uncanny ability to know what she needed, building small orgasms in the beginning to much bigger ones, or, in the case of rewards after punishments, leaping to the earth-shattering ones for relief.

She was a master of sex, as well as its mistress, and for that, Zelda was all the more in awe of her.

The only thing that brought her any concern was that never once had she had the pleasure of servicing Lilith. Throughout the night, she’d attempted a few times, and somehow had ended up away from her target of choice, with the woman binding and then fucking her.

She wasn’t displeased by Lilith’s focus, but perhaps somewhat uncertain by it. Was it possible that Lilith didn’t want to be touched? Was that too intimate?

She thought to ask, but alike her question as to their status, it seemed like a conversation to have when they weren’t teetering on the edge of exhaustion.

“Zelda,” Lilith coaxed and then Zelda was sitting up, and pushing out of the tub on unsteady feet, before she was wrapped in a towel, then a robe, and her fingers were laced in Lilith’s as she was taken to bed.

The bed had been cleaned, she noted. With all the toys having been whisked away, and then blankets and sheets were pulled back as Lilith helped her into the bed. A part of her felt an uncertain tightness––again, it was far more intimate than she’d had in some time, but she batted the thought away, reminding herself that the woman had at one point had her entire tongue in her vagina. Intimacy aside, they were well past worrying about sleeping in the same bed.

She laid down on the pillow and watched as the lights were clicked off one-by-one, and then it seemed, she barely noticed Lilith sliding into the bed beside her, before Zelda had fallen asleep.

Sleep came easily. But she awoke with heart racing, sunlight spilling in the room as a sudden, familiar sense clutched at her, telling her that she was running late for classes. Until she recalled that she was on holidays, and was not required to be anywhere.

There was the problem that Hilda was unlikely to know her whereabouts, but given that she’d advised she was meeting a friend for drinks, she was certain that Hilda could put two and two together.

Zelda blinked up at the ceiling, feeling the evening wash over her. She turned, in the bed, fearful to find it empty, only to find Lilith asleep on the other side of the mattress. Her hair out and wild, hiding most of her face.

She looked smaller in the bed, asleep. The domineering energy lost, leaving only a woman behind. The blankets were pulled over her shoulder, and she was facing towards Zelda, her hand reaching out, between them.

Zelda found herself looking over the woman’s face, from her nose to her mouth, drawing over the shape of her jaw and cheekbones, before following the curve of her neck to her where her shoulders peaked out from a swath of blankets.

She could see the definition to the arms––not that came as a surprise to Zelda, having been on the other end of the woman’s strength with great joy last night, when Lilith had easily pinned her against the wall as she fucked her.

But despite all of that, Lilith looked small while she slept.

“Watching people sleep is rude,” Lilith said, and then her brow pressed and she was opening her eyes, blinking tiredly at Zelda.

“Hardly. After the amount of sex we had, I wouldn’t classify as me looking at you as rude. You spent an entire minute staring at the shapes of labia.”

“Mm, pretty colours,” Lilith said, before rolling onto her back and yawning. “Are you hungry?”

Zelda paused, feeling an ache in her stomach. She didn’t recall eating dinner last night, and only drank half a glass of wine, as well as a fair amount of water between sessions of sex. But there was definitely a lack of food.

“Food would be good,” she agreed

Lilith smiled, and then shut her eyes, seeming to look like she was going back to sleep before she swung the blankets off her body and stood up from the bed. There, Zelda watched as she ran a hand through her hair, combing into some semblance of control (not that it helped, it remained a wild head of hair) before Lilith was taking her dressing gown and throwing it over her body.

Zelda watched as she yawned before smiling tiredly and nodding her head towards the door. “Well, come on.”

Zelda followed, taking the other dressing gown and following. They headed downstairs, into the kitchen, and as Lilith pulled out the ingredients for eggs on toast, she directed Zelda to where the glasses and plates were and then to the coffeemaker.

There was an odd domesticity to it, especially when Lilith’s eyes went to hers and a familiar hunger seemed to fill them before she smiled to herself and returned to the task at hand.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” Lilith asked as the food was plated up, the coffee was made and then both of them were sitting near each other. Rather than on one end of the table each, they say perpendicular to one another on the end facing the kitchen archway. It was close enough that Zelda could feel Lilith’s calves near her own––not quite touching, but near enough.

“I did,” Zelda answered, before taking a bite of food. She felt words settle between them as she watched Lilith pick at her breakfast. “Last night you discussed an arrangement,” she said, “I was hoping to seek clarity regarding that.”

“We did agree to discuss boundaries,” Lilith nodded. “And then I suppose I became carried away.”

“We both became distracted,” Zelda corrected. At no point during the sexcapades did she request to pause or seek clarification––nor had she felt the urge to do so. The question only arose after their evening was winding down.

“Well,” Lilith said as she set her cutlery down and picked up her drink. “I suppose the questions begs what do you want out of this?”

Zelda was hoping that the woman would advise of what she was after first, but it seemed that she was posing it back––and Zelda knew why, if their roles had been reversed, she would probably do the same––instead, she was left trying to navigate her own emotions for what she wanted, what she’d romanticised as to what this was.

“What are the options?”

“We can keep this as just a kink relationship, mutually beneficial. Or we can revert to being a provider and client, or…” and her eyebrows rose there, “we can discuss having a true romantic relationship.”

“Forgive my ignorance, but what is the difference between kink and romantic?” Zelda asked.

“I wouldn’t be your emotional support, and you wouldn’t be mine. It’s as I was saying to you the other day. If we’re not dating, I can’t be the person there to help and support those emotional needs you may have. That would belong to a partner, family member or––”

“Therapist,” Zelda finished.

Lilith nodded. “And I wouldn’t expect that of you for myself either. There’s also a certain level of candidness you tend to expect with a partner that you wouldn’t with a kink partner, were we to see each other in public. But it’s up to you in what you want.”

There was a clinical aspect to the way she said it, and Zelda felt her heart beat faster, trying to study the woman’s face as she sipped her coffee. But despite her feelings, the truth of the matter was that her own life was far more complicated. She had niece and nephew with whom she remained in guardianship over (despite her nephew’s belief to the otherwise, while he lived under her roof, he remained in her care). Engaging in a relationship was tricky.

It was further complicated by the fact that this was Sabrina’s principal. And more so…despite Lilith’s offering of it, there was nothing to say she wanted a relationship. It could be her trying to gauge what Zelda wanted, or perhaps offering it as something to explore.

No, she didn’t want a relationship with someone if they weren’t as interested in her as she was in them. It was too risky.

“I think a kink relationship is suitable,” she advised. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, “But I assume that this is an ongoing discussion?”

Lilith nodded. “If you were to desire to reverse at any time, we would discuss that.” She gave an odd expression, eyes flicking away before a sharp smile returned to her face. “May I be so presumptuous that sex will remain on the table?”

Zelda laughed, “Yes”

Lilith grinned. “Wonderful.”

“So, this will remain a mutually beneficial power exchange?”

“Mm, pretty much the same thing you had before but without the exchange of money, though if you want to financially dominate me, I won’t say no.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “Well, most of that seems straightforward. We’re… acquaintances outside of the bedroom, so to speak?”

“From experience, people tend to notice if you’re trying to be subtle that there’s absolutely nothing going on. If that’s what you want, we can certainly try it, but perhaps it might be better to advise that we’re… friends at the very least. People don’t need to know the specifics.”

Friends. It would mean that she could have Lilith over her house as well.

“And should I be referring to you as Mary, then?”

“Mm, all of my friends know me as Lilith. But if you prefer you can call me Mary––I usually reserve it for just professional courtesy in the workplace.”

“Do you prefer Mary?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then I’ll stick with Lilith.”

“Or my Queen.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying that outside of the house.”

Lilith bit her lip and Zelda sensed the challenge set in the air, knowing that there was nothing she could do to take it back. The woman was set on making her say it in a setting now.

“Principal Wardwell would suit nicely too, I quite enjoyed you squirming on my desk.”

Zelda drew in a sharp breath. She’d quite enjoyed that incident as well and had to admit that she wasn’t against it occurring again, despite the danger (or, perhaps, because of it).

“Is there anything else?”

“There is, but I’ll reserve that as a surprise for later,” Lilith said, before giving a sharp smile. “Oh, though there is an important question––were you looking to still engage in romantic relationships with other people?”

Zelda paused, feeling the question sit between them.

“It’s not a concern if you are, I just need to know if you’re planning on having sex with other people as a courtesy to one another.”

“I…don’t know,” she admitted. “As of late, I don’t usually find myself having time to see anyone, let alone be engaged in two sexual relationships at the same time.”

Lilith nodded, “Well, it’s up to you. It’s a negotiation like anything else about the expectations we have. How about we leave it for now as that it could happen, and if it does, we can discuss from there?”

Zelda nodded. And then paused. “What about your clients?”

“I don’t have sex with any of my clients,” Lilith said, sipping her drink.

“But you had sex with me.”

“Mm, because I wanted to have sex with you.”

Zelda’s mouth opened, and then shut. She went to argue that she had also paid for that service, before realising that she’d paid for a set time limit and the kink element had always been wrapped around that, with the sex being used as a part of it, but not an extra service to be charged. “Is that standard?”

“If I don’t like the person, I won’t offer the service. But you were so lovely on my doorstep, with your wide-eyed stare, trying to show bravado in a situation that terrified you.”

“I was not terrified.”

“Oh, you were. You were so nervous and so excited, I thought I was going to make you combust.”

Zelda scowled, “Hardly, I may have been…perhaps nervous––“

“Nervous,” Lilith echoed obnoxiously.

“––But I’d hardly advise that I was terrified.”

“Nonetheless, the decision was as much mine as it was yours.”

Zelda exhaled, picking at her food. It was certainly a new thing to consider. And yet, despite the fact that she should consider it further, she found herself smiling to herself, flushing with a strange sense of pride.

Perhaps Lilith liked her more than she’d initially realised. Before she reminded herself that sexual attraction and romantic attraction did not always marry up.

“Well,” Lilith said, “Now that’s out of the way, I suppose we can move on to other things.”

“Mm, and what other things are that?”

Lilith smiled, and then Zelda felt the side of her foot stroking against Zelda’s calf. “I believe sex on the table was offered.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, certainly. But to your credit, you’re looking absolutely lovely wrapped in my robe, and there’s nothing more I would like than to see you out of it.

Zelda smirked, her food was half-finished, her coffee still prominently being drunk, but Lilith’s eyes were trailing down her body, to where the robe had parted, revealing more cleavage than she realised.

“May I finish breakfast?” Zelda asked. “Or are you so starving that you can’t wait?”

“You may finish,” Lilith permitted, though she’d already pushed aside her plate.

Zelda picked at a few bites more, drinking her coffee. And then she rose to her feet, taking the plates and cups and setting them onto the counter, away from the table.

And then Lilith was behind her and Zelda sighed as she leant back, feeling the woman’s mouth on her neck as the belt around her waist was plucked undone, and then both it and the robe were discarded to the floor.

Lilith turned her around, pressing her against the kitchen counter as she kissed her throat and began stroking between her legs.

If Zelda was being honest, this was a life she could get used to. Being fucked by Lilith. Being spanked and disciplined and tied-up by Lilith––it was all enough for Zelda to feel the familiar excitement flooding through her bloodstream.

It was different from how it’d been with others. There were no demands from Lilith to enter into a relationship, no anxiety or fear pulling between them, or suffocation where she felt that she’d lost everything.

There was Lilith, and there was her, and they were two separate people who enjoyed fucking each other. It was enough.

She felt her head roll back, her hips rocking as she clutched at the counter, and then briefly caught Lilith’s eyes beside her as the woman watched her with fascination, as the climax took hold and her body convulsed, almost slipping from her position.

Lilith slid out of her and Zelda exhaled with it, her eyes blinking up at the morning light, trying to draw in long, slow breaths to ease her racing heart.

“What time is it?” Zelda asked.

“A little past seven,” Lilith responded. “I’ll need to get ready for school. Did you want me to drop you off home?”

Zelda bit her lip, considering her options. “No, I should pick up my car from the bar, before anyone tries to steal it.”

“Ah, yes,” Lilith nodded. “Well, I might wash up.” And she was walking away, licking her fingers in a way that had Zelda feeling the growing hunger return. She was… insatiable. Intensely so, and Zelda felt a sudden urge to pin the woman and fuck her before she pushed the thought away.

As Lilith was getting dressed, it was perhaps time she did as well.

Zelda made her way to the front room and plucked her clothes off the floor, before getting dressed. Then she made her way to the mirror hanging on the wall in the room and tried to fix her hair the best she could.

Her hair had the look of being dried improperly from the bath last night, and as she examined her neck and shoulders in the mirror, she noticed with horror that there were a fair few marks that sat at the collar of her dress.

Furthermore, the rope burn on her wrists was quite prominent, and although Lilith had ceased to bind her after the incident, and had stopped the session to ensure that it was cleaned, the mark remained red and raw.

Her biggest concern was knowing that her family was going to immediately know that she’d been off having sex––but it was certainly something she could move past. Her second concern was that inevitably they would become curious about the incident and be on the lookout as to who she’d been sleeping with because at the end of the day, her family didn’t know how to keep their noses out of her business.

Zelda sighed, adjusting the collar of her dress before she pulled her coat on and did it up. That would have to do. She’d be stuck wearing high necklines until the marks faded, but at the very least that was something she wouldn’t have to worry about going forward.

When Lilith came out of the bathroom, Zelda entered, using the toothbrush from last time to brush her teeth. The urge to have a cigarette was growing, and she felt all the more anxious to return to her car, and as such, return to her family.

As it was, she made her way up to the bedroom and found herself sitting on the bed as she watched Lilith sit at a dresser and apply her make-up.

“Will you be running late for school?”

“A little, but I’ve already called Mrs. Meeks and let her know I’m having car trouble,” she said, turning to look at Zelda in the mirror. “I’m sure the children can handle themselves for a few minutes. The other teachers will certainly be there.”

Zelda hummed, familiar with the teachers only by what Sabrina had said. “Sabrina mentioned that Theo quit the football team.”

“Unfortunately, yes. However, I did direct him to the local group in Riverdale. It won’t be as competitive as the high school, but if he’s after the social side, it’s certainly something better than the toxic environment he was in before.”

“And the parents?”

“Oh, unhappy as always. Threatening lawsuits, as usual. But what else are they to do with their miserable lives? Bullies raise bullies, and I do so enjoy breaking them,” she paused then, placing on her lipstick before pulling away. “But if you’re asking non-directly how Sabrina’s going, she’s doing well. Her marks are steady, she has a nice social circle, and she’s often brightly mentioned by her teachers.”

“Of course she is.”

Lilith smiled, settling the lipstick down before she drew her fingers through her hair, fixing it into place. For the amount of time she spent on her image, Zelda was surprised to note that she was surprisingly efficient. Gone from being half asleep, Lilith looked professionally done up in a way that made Zelda long to return home to clean up properly.

“Have everything you need?”

“I do,” Zelda answered.

Lilith walked over and kissed Zelda’s cheek. When she pulled back, her hand cupped Zelda’s face, tilting it to admire the mark she left. “Perfect,” she said and Zelda sighed, moving to the mirror to wipe it off before she followed Lilith out, watching as the woman placed on her coat, grabbing her bag and keys.

The drive back to the town was quiet, and Zelda felt the exhaustion brush through her as she tried to comfortably sit in the seat, before realising that it was just not going to be possible with all the welts. Shifting, she drew her head back and exhaled a sharp breath as, beside her, Lilith laughed.

“You’ll be thinking about me all day,” Lilith teased.

“Mm, plotting my revenge.” She tilted her head and watched as Lilith smirked at her.

“Careful. I might have to call in sick if you keep talking like that.”

It was tempting, and Zelda drew in a breath, considering to ask before she decided again it. They couldn’t let this arrangement affect their work.

Lilith dropped her off by her car, and as she went to step out, she was stopped by a tug on her jacket sleeve. “Don’t forget these,” Lilith said, holding up the lace underwear Zelda had taken off the night before in the car. “They seem important.”

Flushing, she snatched the underwear and stuffed them into her clutch before any passerby could see. “Thank you,” she said tightly.

“Enjoy your day, Zelda.”

Zelda paused, looking at Lilith, and then before she could overthink it, she leant back into the car and kissed the woman’s lips. She felt Lilith’s smile against her own, before she pulled back, licking her lips as she felt her heart flutter. “You too,” she said, before shutting the door, catching Lilith’s pleased expression

When Zelda arrived home, she was greeted by Hilda, who seemed a bit perturbed by the fact she hadn’t returned home the night before. A rush of questions spilled from her sister’s mouth before Zelda glared at her, silencing her concerns. This only resulted in Hilda to move her inquiries to who the “friend” was that she’d stayed overnight with.

“It’s none of your business,” Zelda reminded.

“Well if you have met someone new, they’re more than welcome to come over for Christmas dinner since Sabrina won’t be here,” Hilda advised.

Zelda couldn’t even imagine such a thing. Firstly, there’d be the fallout from Sabrina, who would have an absolute meltdown over the fact that Lilith had been over in their house without her present. Then there would be Hilda’s incessant need to find anything and everything out from Lilith, followed by Lilith who would at every turn make Zelda as uncomfortable as possible by toeing any boundary she put in place.

Though the latter part, she didn’t entirely mind if she was being truthful.

No. There would be no shared dinner. “Thank you sister, but I’m quite certain that there’ll be no need.”

“Oh, well, let me know-–I have work in just a few moments, so I can pop into the grocers after,” Hilda said, looking sad for a reason Zelda couldn’t fathom. Instead of waiting for her sister to stutter out an apology, or another inquiring question, she brushed past, making her way upstairs where she changed her clothes and went down to her office.

The break was a chance to finally allow herself the time to work on her academia.

Sitting down, she took the time to review her emails, before opening up her work. By the time lunch rolled around, Zelda had managed to push out a thousand new words for her work before she took a break to the kitchen, where Ambrose was, making a rather prominent pot of tea.

“Cuppa?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Zelda said, before opening the fridge and flicking through its contents for something easy to deal with. She wasn’t particularly hungry but knew that if she didn’t eat something small at the very least, she was likely to feel unwell later.

“Aunt Hilda mentioned you stayed overnight again, am I to presume this is the same person you stayed with when your car was allegedly bogged?”

“It was bogged.”

“Of course, Auntie,” Ambrose said, pouring the cup of tea. “You look… well I won’t lie, you look exhausted but otherwise happy.”

Zelda scowled, snatching the cup. “What is with this family’s incessant need to snoop in my love life.”

“So there is a love life,” Ambrose said, laughing at Zelda’s scowl. “There’s little else to gossip about except Sabrina’s school. Though there’s interesting gossip to be had there, as well.”

Zelda felt the exhaustion weigh on her as she brought the cup of tea to her mouth. “Tell me it’s not something to be concerned about.”

“It’s not,” Ambrose assured. “Just rumours about Craven being fired due to having an affair with another teacher. Quite the scandal.”

Craven was fired? Zelda’s brows rose. She wondered if that was Lilith’s way of trying to cut off the rotten head of the fish, or if there was something else at play there. “So the school is without a coach?”

“And a P.E. teacher. They’ve got a casual in, but that’s nowhere near as fun as dreaming up the story of Craven having a solicited affair with the Principal and trying to blackmail her.”

Zelda choked on her tea. “With… with Wardwell?” she asked.

“Mm, so the rumours say.”

“I thought Sabrina said they hated each other?”

Ambrose shrugged. “They’re the rumours floating around––but it’s all talk. More than likely, with the repeated bullying occurring, Wardwell had to put her foot down somewhere to look like she was doing something, so she got rid of the teacher. If I were her, I’d be pushing to get rid of the star football player, a true Sun Tzu tactic.”

“Except it’s easier to fire a teacher than it is to expel a student,” Zelda advised. Especially when said student had parents with a fair amount of money and political sway behind them.

“I suppose, but that would still be my tactic,” Ambrose said. “What are you up to today, anyway. Planning for your birthday?”

Zelda sighed. It was that time of year again where her birthday loomed closer, and she had to make plans, or else be fated to her family’s incessant need to celebrate and invite everyone over, despite her assurance that she would prefer a quiet evening in.

“I have plans for my birthday,” she answered. And then realised her mistake.

While her arrangement with Lilith might come in handy and she could politely advise that she would be going out for her birthday, allowing herself to hide away in the woman's home––it would only make her family all the more curious. Even now she could see Ambrose’s eyes lifting.

Not to mention that there then the concern of having to explain to Lilith why she was hiding out in her home, which would inevitably mean discussing her birthday, which seemed unfortunately early in the conversation.

She ate her food quietly, ignoring her nephew’s prominent stare. “That serious?” he inquired.

“It’s with a friend,” she lied, “not the kind of friend you’re thinking of.”

“So you say, Auntie. But I think the lady doth protest too much.”

Zelda flushed, looking away. “I’m not––“ she sighed. “I’m not dating anyone. I have a friend. Outside of work.”

At that, Ambrose’s eyebrows seem to rise so high up they disappeared into his hairline. “Truly? An honest to god, friend?”

“Don’t be rude, this is still my house that you’re living under.”

Ambrose tapped a hand to his heart, “Of course,” he said with faux sincerity. “But still, friendship for you is rare. You and Constance are the closest I’ve ever seen you with another, and I would barely call you more than work colleagues.”

Zelda scowled at the comment. She and Constance were friends. Even if she didn’t go out, drinking wine on Sunday brunches, or whatever married women did, she still considered Constance one of the few tolerable people, and therefore, her friend.

“Yes, well, circumstances change,” she said.

“So they must. And when will this friend be coming over for dinner, if they are of the dinner party variety?”

“She won’t.”

“So it’s a she?”

Zelda glared at her nephew, despising how easily he managed to trick her into revealing another fact. “I have work to do,” she advised, standing up and taking her cup of tea with her. “Shouldn’t you be off studying?”

“I’m actually waiting for Luke. We’re going to a poetry reading at Doctor Cee’s.”

“Of course,” she said, voice low. Ambrose looked as though he was going to pose a question before he bit his tongue as a horn beeped outside, signalling, likely, that Luke had arrived. “Bye Auntie. I hope we find more about your mystery woman later.”

Zelda scowled, leaving the room, and managed to get behind her desk, open up her computer when she noticed her phone had a new notification. Clicking it open, she found a text message from Lilith.

Though text message perhaps simplified what it was. It was a request.

Stuck in a meeting

Send me a picture

Zelda felt annoyance rise in her. After all, if she were to send a picture, there was a chance that anyone could have seen the text message were Lilith to open the message nearby anyone. There was absolutely no way that she was sending a picture.

I don’t think so.

A simple, sharp response. There was no way she was going to send Lilith a picture of anything. No matter if she begged nor pleaded. Zelda Spellman had never sent out digital nudes to other people, and she certainly wasn’t starting.

And then just as she was returning to her work, typing out a single sentence, her phone buzzed again.

Take off your underwear

Zelda glared at the screen. She began typing a message and was halfway through her response about how she was busy and didn’t have time to do such things, when her phone buzzed again.

Do as you are told

Damn her.

Glancing to the office door, she ensured it was shut before she found herself tugging off her underwear, and then setting aside, away from any prying eyes were someone to come into the office––though Ambrose was heading off to his poetry reading, and both Hilda and Sabrina were at school and work respectably. The house was empty.

She thought about answering back, but couldn’t find herself coming back with a witty retort. No, if Lilith wanted to play this game, she wanted to know she was leaving the woman just as wound-up.

She took a photo of the underwear and sent it back. And then immediately deleted the photo from her phone––planning to delete the entire conversation later.

It wasn’t a nude so to speak, and as such, she felt comfortable knowing that it was unlikely to come back to her.

There was no response. And Zelda wondered if Lilith was distracted by the meeting, or distracted by the photo.

She could imagine her, twisting in the desk chair, one leg folded over the other as she contemplated a response. A flushed look creeping over her face as she bit her bottom lip.

It was enough to make Zelda draw in a deep breath, calming her speeding heart, and turn back to her work at hand. She managed a single word this time before the phone buzzed, the message notification flashing up.

Unlocking her phone, she read the message.

Masturbate for me.

Zelda swallowed at the words. In all honesty, Lilith would never know. She wouldn’t know if she had or hadn’t, Zelda could lie and say she was and go on and finish her work…

…except Lilith would know, and she would know and in truth, she was already worked up from the messages.

Hiking up her skirt, she leaned back in the chair and drew her fingers over herself. There was a growing arousal and Zelda shivered at the touch, stroking over her sex. There was an excitement know that she was doing this because of Lilith, and a further thrill in imagining her walking into the office and discovering her.

Zelda was familiar with her body, knew where to touch and how to touch to get herself relief. She was halfway to some sort of relief when her phone rang, Lilith’s number lighting up the screen.

Snatching at the phone, she answered it. “Yes?” she asked, letting her annoyance drip through the receiver.

“Someone sounds wound up,” Lilith said.

“Aren’t you meant to be in a meeting?”

“Mm, finished early, what are you up to?” she asked, as if she had no idea what Zelda was up to.

Zelda flushed, “You know perfectly well.”

“I do, but let me hear you say it.”

Zelda flushed, looking at the desktop screen, trying to find the courage. She didn’t know how the woman seemed to make her such a mess, but Zelda squirmed to find the words all the same. It wasn’t a dirty thing, it wasn’t a terrible thing, before Lilith had come along, it’d been a frequent occurrence to burn off steam in otherwise long nights.

But saying it to a woman who had only a few hours ago been drawing her fingers over the same spot was another thing entirely.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No,” she said. “And I’m masturbating, at your request.”

The woman laughed, “Right now?”

“Well, no, I’m on the phone to you.”

“Mm. And why would that cause you to stop?” she asked. “Be a good girl and let me hear you.”

Zelda drew in a breath, shutting her eyes. The woman was underneath her skin, getting her to do whatever she wanted, and yet Zelda couldn’t help it, feeling herself part her legs again, holding her phone to her shoulder as she slipped beneath her skirt.

She slid between her thighs, stroking at her sex as she bit her lip to hold back the whimpers. Lilith was quiet on the other end, deadly silent and she wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“Don’t hold back,” Lilith said, her voice low and coaxing and Zelda shivered, teeth letting go before she gasped and then gave a soft mewling whine.

“Lilith,” she whispered into the phone.

In her ear, she heard Lilith draw in a breath. “Where are you?” Lilith asked, but her voice was swallowed with arousal and Zelda felt pride bite through her.

“Home office.”

“At your desk?”

Zelda gave a soft, murmured confirmation, stroking firmer.

“Leg’s spread wide in your chair? Whatever would you do were someone to walk in?”

“You could find out,” Zelda told her. She was teetering on the edge, one leg on the desk, heel pushing against the wood as she felt herself clench, drawing closer and closer. “Find out how wet I am for you. I’d make you get on your knees before me to watch. And then make you clean up the mess.”

Lilith was quiet and Zelda almost went to ask if that had been too much, when the woman spoke, her voice thick with arousal. “Zelda,” it was almost a plead and Zelda felt a power flush through her. She’d done that. She’d made the woman sound like she was on the edge of something.“You have no idea of the effect you have on me,” Lilith told her.

It was said so sweetly and Zelda made a humming agreement, feeling herself pulled closer and closer to climax. She could hear her gasps growing, the orgasm building low and deep within her.

All she wanted was Lilith’s hands to take over, and stroke inside of her, to feel the woman’s mouth slide over her sex.

“Lilith, I––“

“Don’t finish!” Lilith said.

Zelda paused, blinking up at the ceiling. “What?”

She heard the woman swallow, as if she had to focus her thoughts before she asked, “What are you doing in two hours?”

Zelda blinked. At three-thirty? She suspected she would be trying to work on her academic paper still, or perhaps reviewing her classwork again, reading through other academic journals.

“I don’t have any plans.”

“Come to my office.”

Zelda flushed. “At three-thirty?”

Lilith paused, and then there was the noise of flicking papers before she seemed to groan. “Four,” she advised.

“I can do four.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you.” And then Lilith spoke, the confidence in her voice returning. “Don’t finish.”

The line clicked off and then Zelda was sitting back in her desk chair, feeling the relief drain away as frustration built up inside of her. She needed Lilith, needed her desperately to bend her over a desk and fuck her until she was pushing her away––and then maybe one more.

She thought about finishing. About stroking quickly between her thighs, or making her way up the stairs, but she didn’t. Her Queen had asked and so she would obey.

She swallowed thickly, and then looked to her underwear. There was no point putting them back on, she would only end up ruining them again.

Getting up from her desk, she washed her hands before settling back at her desk, trying to push the thoughts of Lilith from her mind as she began working on the academic article.

It took a few attempts, but she was able to finally push out a few hundred words––sloppy as they were and in desperate need of editing––nonetheless, it was words on the paper. Or on a word processor as it was. Still, something to be pleased about.

And then she was grabbing her coat and pulling it on. Likely, Sabrina would be home soon, so Zelda took the notepad in the foyer, and wrote a message on it for her, advising that she would be out, but would return for dinner––promising herself the same thing. If she spent another night at Lilith’s she was going to raise too many questions she didn’t want to answer.

And then Zelda was getting into her car and driving to Baxter High. It didn’t take long to find the Principal’s office and thankfully, the assistant wasn’t there.

Walking to the door, presented with Principal Mary L. Wardwell, she turned the handle and was presented with Lilith sitting in her office chair, pen in hand as she worked on whatever paperwork had her mind filled.

“Zelda,” she said, looking up at her. The joy that washed over her face was enough to make Zelda feel a warm flush fill her. Lilith was genuinely pleased to see her.

Zelda pushed the office door shut, ensuring it locked behind her as she made her way over the room and sat down in the chair before Lilith, as she’d done not so long ago when she’d first become aware of who she truly was.

Circumstances were different, and she watched as Lilith set down her pen, her chin coming to sit up on propped up hand as she looked across the desk at her.

“It is so lovely to see you.”

“And you,” she responded, anticipation biting over her. She didn’t know what was going to happen, if she was going get thrown on the desk and utterly fucked, or if Lilith was going to tease her dreadfully. As it was, she was happy either way.

“I enjoyed our little conversation earlier.”

“As did I.”

Lilith smirked, and then she was sitting up tall behind her desk, pushing back in her chair before she rose to her feet. Zelda watched as she moved to the front of the desk, before leaning back against it, standing before Zelda, eyes running over her as she seemed to contemplate exactly what she wanted to do.

“I had a plan,” Lilith advised, “But now you’re here, I have half a mind to just…” and she trailed off, biting her lip.

“What was the plan?”

Lilith stepped closer and then she was holding out her hand. Zelda reached out and took it, allowing herself to be lifted into a standing position before she found herself guided by Lilith to be sitting behind the desk, on Lilith’s chair. The woman unzipped Zelda’s skirt, dropping it to the ground, and then grinned at the sight.

“No underwear, how naughty,” Lilith said, as she nudged Zelda’s legs wider apart. And then, when Zelda was certain that the woman was going to touch between her legs, she sat back, leaning against the edge of the desk in a seemingly relaxed position, and smiled at Zelda.

Oh, Zelda realised.

Lilith smiled at her, and made a general gesture with her hand, implying well enough that she expected Zelda to start.

Zelda swallowed and leaned back in the chair, and then, with her eyes steady on Lilith’s, she began to masturbate before her.

The moment that she started to touch herself––the nervousness of it encouraging blood flow to her sex and making it all the more sensitive––she watched as Lilith’s mischievous expression turned hungry. The smile slipping away as she watched Zelda like there was nothing else in the room.

Zelda stroked, and as she found herself more and more comfortable, encouraged by the hungry expression, she rose one leg to press against the desk, spreading her thighs further apart to allow Lilith a grander visual.

Her breaths were soft, and then she moaned, biting her lip, feeling herself get carried away in the show of it. And then her eyes were falling shut as she rocked closer and closer to climax.

Just before she reached the goal, Lilith’s hands pulled hers away and Zelda opened her eyes to see the woman kneeling before her. “I thought I could just watch,” she said. “But turns out the show you put on is better than I realised.”

“I’ve had experience,” Zelda said.

Lilith grinned, and then her head was bowing, eyes holding her as she gave a long, slow lick from one end to the other of there sex, slipping over the labia to up and around the clit, and then with the single tease done, Lilith’s hands gripped her thighs, tugging her forward on the seat before she began the most sinful thing possible with her tongue.

Zelda didn’t need to put on a show with her moans. Every breath, every sigh, every keened whine was honestly drawn from her throat by the woman’s tongue, and then before she could so much as find herself used to such a thing, she felt Lilith’s fingers slide inside of her.

“Mary Mother,” she hissed.

“Oh, I do love fucking a catholic girl.”

“Not…I’m not…” Zelda tried to argue, before the words faded on her tongue.

“You were raised catholic though, weren’t you?” she asked as she fingers stroked inside of her before her tongue returned to swirling around. “I can tell when you use my name in vain.”

“Lilith,” she whined, feeling a familiar flutter grow inside of her. If the woman wasn’t careful, she was going to end up squirting again, and Zelda wasn’t sure if she wanted to do that in the office for a second time. It’d been embarrassing and…

Her thoughts faded as she clutched at the arms of the chair, gasping as she felt tongue and fingers and the barest drawing of teeth as Lilith sucked decadently against her.

“I––“

“Mm?” Lilith hummed and Zelda felt her legs squeeze, head rolling back in the chair.

Zelda cried out, louder than she realised, and felt the familiar gush of wetness rush with the climax as her cry turned to a whimper and she tried to pull away––Lilith didn’t allow her, and the woman’s tongue continued to draw over her until Zelda was whimpering again. And then, with the second climax spilling from her, only then did Lilith pull back, rising to her feet.

Sinking in the chair, Zelda sighed and felt an exhaustion pull over her as the double climax continued to trembled down her spine, blood flow pulsing between her legs.

“What a lovely mess,” Lilith said, as she stared between Zelda’s legs to where there was a prominent wet spot on the chair. But before Zelda could respond, there was a knock at the door.

“––incipal Wardwell?” came a muffled, feminine voice.

Lilith closed her eyes, looking annoyed as she tilted her head. “I’ll deal with it,” she assured as panic began to claw at Zelda.

Zelda pulled herself into the desk, realising her skirt remained hopelessly tossed on the floor as she watched Lilith walked over to the office door and unlocked it, opening it up––but thankfully blocking the person from seeing.

“Yes?”

“I heard a scream.”

“Mm, unfortunately, we have a mouse problem, Mrs, Meeks. I will need you to call the exterminator tomorrow if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I can do it now––“

“No, no, you’ve finished for the day. Go home and enjoy dinner with your family,” Lilith coaxed gently. “It’s nothing that won’t wait another day.”

“We should get on top of it as quickly as possible.”

“I agree, but one day won’t make a difference.”

“Okay, well as long as you’re alright.”

“I am. Thank you for your concern. Now, if you don’t mind I have some office work to finish up. Enjoy your evening.” And then there was a murmur of a polite goodbye before the door was shut, and then locked and Lilith was smiling as she made her way back.

“That could have gone worse,” Zelda commented.

Lilith shook her head. “You worry too much. Besides, you like the danger of it.”

She couldn’t deny that, but she disliked that the woman knew her so well. Turning away she huffed and nudged at the desk, pushing back on the chair to grab at her skirt. “Well, as fun as this is, I should get back to my family before they become any more suspicious of my whereabouts.”

“If you don’t want them to know we’re having sex, it might do well to introduce us as friends,” Lilith commented. “That way it won’t involve so much espionage if we run into each other during school events.”

Zelda’s mouth parted to respond, before she considered her words. It wasn’t the worst idea.

“Unless you’re embarrassed?”

“No, it’s not that. I…enjoy having my family not be apart of this,” she admitted, before looking up at Lilith. “It’s just ours.”

“I’m not going to become theirs because we’re friends, Zelda.”

“You don’t know my family.”

“Well, I would say I’m somewhat familiar with your sister and niece. This would just be a formality.”

Zelda nodded, there was a certain truth to the words, but she wanted to keep the relationship between them––keep it sacred.

“Not to mention, there’s still a sense of espionage in it to keep them from knowing that I’m fucking you, if you do enjoy that element. I’m sure that great big home of yours has many secluded areas to explore.”

Zelda flushed, that was the last thing she needed. And yet, she couldn’t help but imagine Lilith in her office, on her knees. With the great big desk present, Lilith naked underneath as Zelda spread her legs wide for her…it would make a rather lovely image to keep for herself.

“Fine,” she relented, leaning back in the desk chair, all the more aware that she was having the conversation half-naked. “You can come over for dinner.”

Lilith’s smile widened. “Wonderful. Pick a night and I’ll make sure I’m available.”

Zelda drew in a breath, closing her eyes. She could already sense that it was likely to go downhill and knew that half the argument was made because of an orgasmic stupor the woman had left her, but when Lilith smiled at her like that, it was difficult to remain upset.

“How about Saturday night, next week?” she asked. “I could probably arrange a small dinner party with a few people.”

“I can do Saturday.” And then Lilith was leaning forward and kissing her sweetly and Zelda couldn’t help but feel softened by it. Tension rolled from her as she felt Lilith draw her hands up her thighs, to her hips, before she began coaxing the blouse off from her. “May I have one, small favour?” Lilith asked as she bit her neck, fingers sliding behind Zelda to undress her blouse and bra from her too, leaving her naked in the chair

Zelda relented, “what favour?”

And then Lilith was reaching into a handbag she had by her desk, pulling something out from it. Zelda tried to glance, but the woman hit it behind her back as she kissed her again, a hand on the curve of her neck to steady her as her tongue slide over Zelda’s mouth, teasing her lips apart before she pulled away. “Would you mind if I indulged in a brief fantasy?” and then she was revealing the object behind her back, holding it out between them.

Zelda looked it over and felt a blush rise to her face before she looked up at Lilith. “Nipple clamps?”

“Oh yes,” Lilith said.

“You just have those casually in your handbag?”

“Doesn't everyone?” she asked, eyes flashing. “May I?”

It seemed a small thing, and Zelda wasn’t sure why this was a fantasy, but she agreed with a shrug of her shoulders, more amused than anything. Adjusting in her seat, she watched as Lilith grinned as she took one clamp and attached it onto the nipple.

Zelda hissed in a breath, they remained sensitive from the orgasm and the sharpness, although pleasant, was still painful. Lilith seemed to laugh to herself, amused by her hiss as she fixed the clamp to her other nipple.

Zelda drew in a breath and felt the pain slip over her. It was sharp and tight, enough that it sparked through it, but like everything else, she couldn’t deny the pleasure that hummed low through her.

“Is that all?” Zelda asked.

Lilith bit her lip. “No,” she admitted. And then, with more shyness than Zelda expected, Lilith turned away, biting her lip as a red blush spilled across her cheeks. “But it’s enough for now,” and then she smiled at Zelda.

“You can tell me,” Zelda said. “The worst I’ll say is no.”

Lilith nodded and then smiled. “I want to photograph you like this while you're masturbating,” she admitted. “You can delete the photos after. I’ve just had this fantasy of catching you in my office masturbating, and then you…ask me to record you,” she admitted, and Zelda felt a flush warm straight through her body.

Had Lilith asked it of her only a day ago, she would have flatly refused. But knowing the power she had from sending the photo, knowing the effect it caused and watching how Lilith’s control had seemed to slip when she watched her before…Zelda couldn’t help but admit that the idea of it was tantalising.

“And if I agree, I will delete them,” Zelda said. “If I so choose?”

“You will,” Lilith agreed.

“You’ll use my phone,” Zelda said. Their phones were the same make anyway, so it wouldn’t matter with regards to the camera lens. But it gave her the comfort of control. Lilith’s smile widened and she stood up. “And I’ll consider this an early Christmas gift.”

Lilith’s expression turned into unadulterated hunger, as she reached into the discarded jacket Zelda had brought, and plucked her phone from its pocket. She tilted the phone while moving around the desk, until she was satisfied with the camera angle.

And then, Zelda was sinking low in the chair, legs up on the desk, to repeat round two of masturbation.

This time, she put on more of a show than she had before. She was well-familiar with photography, so it was easy to indulge and let herself melt into the touch of her own hands again

And then when she came, teeth biting on her lower lip, Zelda couldn’t help but feel it rock through her with a sudden spark that dragged over her spine.

Exhausted, she dropped, panting as she pulled her fingers away, and then Lilith was staring at her, a new hunger forming as she walked around to the chair. Tugging Zelda to her feet, so she sat behind her and pulled the woman on her lap before pulling up the camera roll.

There were over three dozen photos, and Lilith flicked through all before returning to one particular photo, and somehow managing to change the image to a high-contrasted black and white photo.

“I like this one,” Lilith said in her ear softly, fingers drawing over her thigh. “If I could, I’d have that framed and mounted in my bedroom.”

“I’m sure you would,” Zelda said, but she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t at all like a photo she expected. She remembered seeing a boyfriend’s porn magazines and the imagines of fingers spreading their labia wide open with bright, shiny smiles and glistening skin.

The photo Lilith had taken of her wasn’t like that. She’d captured her face in a softened moment, with her brow pressed, lips tugging into a smile as she looked not at the camera lens, but presumably at Lilith. Her leg was manoeuvred in such a way that you couldn’t see her sex, but there was no mistaking what she was doing by her hand placement.

Taking the phone from her, Zelda clicked and deleted all the photos except the black and white one, before sending a copy of it to Lilith. “But you better get me a necklace for Christmas.”

“What about a pearl necklace?” Lilith teased.

Zelda’s mouth twisted with disgust, turning to face the woman only for her lips to catch hers.

“A gold necklace it is,” Lilith murmured against her mouth.

______________

#Zelda Spellman #lilith #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic

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atomicpugs · 4 years

Text

The Gift

happy birthday to one smug boi~

and endless thanks to @pdrrook for this amazing game! ✧ﾟ*ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

(ao3)

⬫

Not even a tier-five gift of allure can relieve you of the torment of retail.

Despite completing your runs for the week, you’ve been inordinately busy at the perfumery. A big holiday approaches, bringing with it an irregular influx of customers. The day had flown right past you, and you feel exhausted after being on your feet all day, greeting and serving one customer right after the next.

With a tired nod, you bid Dia goodbye as she locks up the shop. She’s quiet, but returns your goodbye with a quick nod of her own before stomping away towards her car. Clearly, she’s just as tired as you are and equally ready to go home.

Unfortunately for you, you’re not heading home just yet.

As you approach Alan’s bar, you could already feel the thumping music under your feet. You stop before the doors to rub your jaw, sore from giving your best customer service smile nonstop the entire day, and you take a deep breath.

The city air is stale but it’s daisy fresh compared to the bar, and your olfactory nerves are burning and dull from sampling perfume all day. With a slight grimace, you open the doors and feel the music immediately flood your senses. You’re not at all a fan of the placement of the speakers right by the door. Alan said it was good for drawing people into the bar. You always thought it was a stupid idea.

Your eardrums are throbbing, but it’s not the worst of it. The bar is completely packed tonight with patrons. Like the music, they’re too loud and too boisterous for you right now. From the state of the sticky floor, the bar appears to have been busy for a while. You feel submerged in the smells of alcohol and sweat and other things you’d rather not think about.

A voice sounds in your mind, as warm and inviting as the day’s first cup of coffee. “Ah, cara, I’m in the back.”

You’re holding your breath as you squeeze yourself between half-drunk dancing patrons, making your way to the back of the bar. Your oldest friend－Reed, as he calls himself now－is seated at a high top, thankfully the farthest away from the blasted speakers. Normally his natural charisma attracts attention, but tonight, he sits alone. You envy his ability to maintain a dignified space from the crowd.

“Evening, carina,” Reed calls out, espresso in hand. An odd choice for a bar, but it doesn’t surprise you one bit. You simply nod in return.

His brow lifts as he takes stock of your appearance. “You look beat.”

“Uh huh,” you reply bluntly, eager to get to business.

Earlier that day, Reed had dropped by the shop, but you were so busy, you barely gave him a second glance. So he scribbled a cryptic note for you: Meet me at Alan’s after work. He wouldn’t make such an effort if it wasn’t important.

You don’t take a seat, choosing instead to stand close to Reed as casually as you can to hear him over the booming music.

“So?” You ready yourself for anything.

For his part, however, Reed is calm, relaxed even, as he finishes his espresso. He dabs his lips with a napkin. It’s either very, very good news… or possibly the worst.

Reed’s eyes center on you, their previous warmth draining away as quickly as he drained his espresso.

You feel your heart drop. This is bad.

“Fuck, what happened?” Your heart beats almost as fast as the music banging in your ears. His brows furrow as a distinct look of disappointment shadows over his features. Oddly, though, his scent remains unchanged. The dissonance confuses you.

His eyes burn into you, and he finally answers.

“You completely forgot my birthday yesterday.”

Oh. Oh no.

Your heart sinks further. This is really bad.

Shit. How the hell did you forget? You've never forgotten his birthday. Never. After all these years, you’d learned that Reed took these things seriously, so you always made an effort to celebrate it with him.

The knots in your stomach tighten. Time to grovel.

“Reed, I－”

Then it hits you.

“Wait…” you whisper.

You’re incredulous.

“I did not forget your birthday!” you exclaim. “Your birthday is months from now!”

In an instant, Reed’s bitter frown suddenly melts into a pout. A fucking pout.

“I wasn’t talking about my real birthday.” He’s whining.

No way.

Is he really referring to the completely, absolutely fake birthdate on his phony papers? Is he really that petty enough to be upset at you for missing it?

Of course he is. This is Reed.

The realization hits you like a bulldozer, and Reed has the nerve to knowingly grin at you. You’re pissed, but a tiny involuntary ripple of guilt runs through your brow and instantly he looks more smug, victorious even. The shithead.

You snarl. “You’re a fucking brat.”

“And you owe me a gift,” he declares and slowly eyes you up and down. “Seeing as you’re empty-handed.”

Reed pouts but a quiver of a grin remains.

“Okay, alright already!” You throw your hands up, nearly knocking over someone’s beer nearby, but you couldn’t care less. You want this over and done with so you can finally go home. If you hadn’t been friends for so long, you would’ve been out the door by now.

In the most caustic singsong voice you can muster, you ask, “Reed, what would you like for your birthday?”

Your irritation clearly fuels him. Reed smirks widely, tapping his chin and making an exaggerated show of deep thought.

“Hm...”

The constant thumping in your ears halts as the music changes. This new song is a much, much slower tempo, it’s melody practically delicate in comparison to the previous one.

Nonchalantly, Reed leaps from his barstool. “I love this song.”

You don’t recognize it, but the change is a welcome respite for your ears. Suddenly, Reed grabs your hand and leads you to the center of the bar where the other patrons are coupling up to dance.

In a swift and graceful movement, Reed whips you around and pulls you close. You let out a haggard breath as if you were holding it this whole time. With him so close, the scent of the bar promptly dissipates, leaving only Reed. His sweet, smoky scent fills your senses. It is so familiar to you now that your body immediately relaxes in the comfort of it. The fight in you fades. The warmth of him is welcome amidst the chaos of the bar.

His hand grips yours tightly, but you feel his other hand graze your waist in surprisingly careful manner. Absentmindedly, you rest your forehead on Reed’s shoulder. For just a moment, he stiffens, then immediately relaxes and leads you in a slow dance. You let out a long, drawn-out breath into his jacket.

Reed switches the conversation to your mind. “Long day today?”

With a sigh, you nod wordlessly. As you inhale, you immediately detect something astringent coloring Reed’s scent. Bitterness and worry echo in the aftertaste.

“Look, I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says, sincerely.

“Sure you are, asshole.” You can’t help but bite back still. To this, Reed chuckles so deeply, you can feel it vibrating through you.

“I am,” he whispers, despite speaking telepathically. His tone turns serious. “You know, you’re working too hard.”

You’re unsure how to respond. “I guess.”

“You are working too hard.”

Reed’s words haunt you. Without thinking, you lean harder into this shoulder, and he instinctively holds you closer. No one knows better than him what little choice you have in the matter.

“You don’t need to worry about me so much,” you say, with some finality to your words.

You feel his grip on your waist tighten just a bit, his thumb tracing you slowly.

His voice echoes heavily in your mind. “I will always worry about you.”

When the two of you are speaking like this, it’s easy to drown out the sounds of the bar. For a spell, you’re both silent, swaying to the music and basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.

You feel safe, almost perfectly at ease. A foreign feeling, these days.

Reed breaks the silence, his chin brushing against your hair. “You know, I still remember the first gift you ever gave me.”

“I bet,” you attempt to snark, but your voice is timid. Reed remembers it more clearly than you do. A small smile curves on your lips as the memory of it gradually comes back to you.

Strangely, Reed releases you, and though your heart should know better, it instantly sinks, craving his embrace. The feeling stuns you. You look up, and Reed is gazing at you with a curiously unfamiliar expression. It’s intense, his amber eyes are burning into you. The two of you are still, almost frozen.

Reed wants to say something. Something important, you know that for sure. It’s his hesitation that alarms you. His full lips part, and he takes a deep breath.

But the song comes to an end. Heavy beats of the next track immediately invade your senses.

You almost dread letting him go. But when you look down, you find that Reed is still holding your hand, though limply this time.

“So for my gift,” Reed’s voice calls out in your mind, full of mischief. His signature smirk returns, quickly replacing whatever was there before.

“Gift?”

“Technically,” he shrugs, his smirk widening. “I never answered your question.”

“Wait, what?” you gawk.

“You owe me a birthday gift. The dance was a nice bonus though.”

Reed laughs. It’s exuberant but rings hollow.

“Are you fu－”

He pulls on your hand, leading you towards the exit. “But first, dinner. Dancing with someone so pretty really works up the appetite.”

“Oh, for the love of…” you mutter, unable to roll your eyes any harder.

“I’m thinking that one place by the square!” he giggles.

“I can’t afford that place, Reed!” you haggle as he continues to lead you towards the exit. The music gets louder as you get closer to the speakers. Earlier you struggled to navigate through the crowd, but Reed cuts through it effortlessly.

His laugh cuts through the crowd just as easily. “It’s on me, of course! Can’t discuss the important matter of my birthday gift on an empty stomach.”

Of all the things, Reed is an excellent negotiator. He knows you well enough to see that you’re starving before you’re even aware of it. You’re wracking your brain on what you could possibly give the guy. The infamous Reed, with his bank account much deeper than yours, typically wants for nothing.

“Reed!” you try to shout over the music, out loud this time. “What else could you possibly want?”

Without looking back, Reed pushes the doors open, and you feel the cold air pour in from outside. He squeezes your hand, and you hear him mutter something out loud instead of in your mind.

But your hearing is overwhelmed by those damn speakers.

⬫

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sirianhewigxiii · 4 years

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Part 1 A Regular Night Off Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter opened the door and entered. Even though she spent most nights in her personal quarters at the military base, it was good to return home every so often.

Home obviously not being Schnee Manor, which back when she was younger, she used to only ever refer to as “home” as a formality. After she had been officially and financially cut off, the first thing she decided on getting the moment she started making her own money was her very own place away from the manor. Away from him. Just thinking about that person made her blood boil to the point where it almost clouded her vision.

She took off her gloves and her white military coat. While neatly hanging the coat on the hanger in the small doorway and putting the gloves in one of the pockets, she noticed the folded weapon on the floor leaning against the hanger. A weapon she was all too familiar with. All anger seemed to almost immediately vent out of her and smiling gently she walked into the living room to look for the owner of said weapon.

Part 2 Partners Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter was standing inside the airship, she couldn’t bring herself to sit down, like some of her fellow students. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and she was tapping her finger on her upper arm. She was trying not to pay too much attention to the chatter of the other students, even though or maybe exactly because it was mostly about her. After all she was the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company.

She was also in their group of initiates, which meant there was a chance one of them could become her partner during this. This being the Atlas Academy Initiation which they were all about to take part in. Winter had worked too hard to screw up now and she was trying her best to concentrate on the task ahead which was, to begin with, a deliberate jump out of an Atlas airplane in full flight with no parachute whatsoever. They had been in the air for about 40 Minutes and they should be arriving at the spot designated for the initiation any moment now.

“We have now reached our destination. All students get ready to be deployed.”

Part 3 The One in which they were tired Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Being in a special program meant that the amount of training, lessons and the workload attached to that were enormous. As such it was now the end of a particularly exhausting week and Winter was completely drained. She slouched towards the lower bunk which was hers, only to simply drop down on it face down. She closed her eyes and groaned into her pillow, pulling it closer to her face…so much for always maintaining a perfect form…Luckily she was alone, if somebody saw her like this, she would never be able to live it down.

Just as the thought of somebody maybe entering the room had left her mind she heard the door being unlocked. A measly “Nooooooooo…” was all Winter was capable of thinking as she heard the door open.

Part 4 Good Together Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

„This looks super sketchy.“

Cassie’s eyes were narrowed and her ears pulled back. Winter couldn’t help but notice how “suspicion” was undoubtedly written all over her. From what very little time she had spent with her new partner Winter had realized that she seemed like the type of person who was relatively easy to read.

Winter preferred that kind of person, she’s already had enough pretense and phoniness in her life. Winter couldn’t help but to think about how strange it was for her to be standing in an abandoned dust mine with a stranger who she had met not too long ago and still feel more at ease with herself than she had ever felt at Schnee Manor.

They had been walking inside of the mine for some time, when they found a small railway line. It was presumably used to transport tools and utensils and they had decided they would follow it in hopes that it would lead them to one of the caches they were required to find during the Atlas Academy initiation.

“Well ‘sketchy’ isn’t a word I would use, but I agree…still this is definitely a right spot.”

Part 5 Overtime Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter sighed. She had read the same two lines for about the fifth time now.

The general had been out on routine military base inspections around Remnant and she had picked up the paper work while he was gone. Usually Winter didn’t have any problems picking up where General Ironwood had left off but with the upcoming Vytal Festival in Vale and all of the security measurements Atlas was meant to provide during that time, it seemed like her usual workload had at least doubled.

She was just thinking about having some coffee brought to her office, when she heard knocking on her door.

Part 6 A Bother Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

It was a late Friday afternoon, classes were finished and Winter was sitting behind her desk, trying to grind through a report which was due by Monday. She was well into it and she figured that if she kept going like this she’ll be done by the evening, so she could review everything over the weekend. She had started early because she wanted it to be absolutely perfect. Winter already knew that she wouldn’t like her current first draft and she would need the time to change and add to it.

She grabbed one of the books she had been using as a reference to read up on certain aspects in her report, when she suddenly had a strange feeling…she closed the book immediately, slammed it over her head and felt resistance.

“Ugh.” - Bullseye. Winter felt a hand drop onto her shoulder. A hand which was attached to an arm that would have otherwise moved around her shoulders and belonged to her partner. A partner who was now standing behind her and slightly teary-eyed holding her nose.

Part 7 Warmth Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

When Winter entered their room carrying her notebooks and books she borrowed from the library she found her partner sleeping on the lower bunk, the one that at the beginning Winter had claimed for herself. Ever since the two of them had first taken a nap together a while back, Winter would find her partner more often fast asleep like this on top of her bed. She had concluded that Cassie simply couldn’t be bothered to climb up into her own bed whenever she was exhausted and while Winter had at first been annoyed at her partner’s level of laziness, she also couldn’t blame her for taking those occasional naps to begin with. Not only were their schedules packed due to being in a special program, but Winter, during her own sleepless nights, had more than once noticed her partner suffering from nightmares that had her tossing at night. And while Winter could see her partner suffering, she also didn’t really know how to handle the situation.

Winter recalled how when they were both still children her younger sister would every once on a while knock on her room door whenever she had a nightmare.

Part 8 A Regular Night Off (cont’d nsfw) Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter and her partner were still sitting on the sofa, cuddled up and simply enjoying each other’s company.

They weren’t paying much attention to the program they were currently watching and Winter had leisurely been drawing patterns on her partners palm and around her fingers, gently massaging two weeks of weapon-wielding strain out of it. Just what had she been doing? Wiping out an entire Grimm nest? As long as she got home safe, Winter rarely asked about the specifics. She knew that her partner could take care of herself. She was also, thankfully, a lot less reckless than she used to be, back in their academy days. Still Winter would be lying if she said that she wasn’t occasionally pacing around at night when her partner had spend more than a few days away on a mission without contacting her. Winter nuzzled closer to her partner and felt her shift slightly.

“Win-ter.“ Her partner’s voice was soft and she nudged the side of Winter’s head with her nose.

“Hm?” In response Winter propped herself up a little. She felt another quick nudge as she moved and then a kiss was placed on her temple. First the one, then a second one, lingering. A soft quiet laugh escaped Winter.

“Let’s go to bed then.“

Part 9 The Stranger (Bonus Story) Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Weiss was taking a walk through the empty hallways of Atlas Academy. Ever since she and her teammates and friends had come to Atlas she had been feeling restless, but she also knew that it had been necessary.

When she had broken out of the manor and left her home kingdom a few weeks ago she didn’t think that she would be so back soon, let alone living in the dorms of Atlas Academy with her friends.

Friends and teammates who had always been by her side to support her and she couldn’t be more grateful and happy to have them. Winter as well, was now able to be by her side to train and teach her like she used to be able to before she left for her own combat training. At first Weiss had felt lonely when she saw her sister leave, but Winter had also been teaching her that she should be able to stand on her own two feet. If she kept up with her training and continued to get stronger she too could choose her own path. Weiss had been determined to follow suit and chase after her and as harsh as it may have appeared at the time, she was grateful for having been pushed this hard by her sister.

Part 10 Apart Chapters: 10/10 - Summary:

Winter had entered their room to find a bunch of weapon parts spread all over most of the floor.

A week of compulsory holidays was coming up and starting tomorrow the academy was giving its students a small break. Most of them used that time to return to their homes, quite a few however still remained at Atlas Academy. Especially those who originally came from one of the other kingdoms considered the traveling for such a relatively short amount of time simply too much of a hassle. Being from Mistral Winter’s partner was one of those students who stayed. She was planning to use this time to completely take apart, clean and readjust her weapon.

As for Winter…She put the books she had borrowed inside of her suitcase and closed it up. Her hand remained on the lid. Schnee Manor wasn’t too close to Atlas Academy, but it also definitely wasn’t far away enough for her to justify staying at the academy for the upcoming week. She was sure that she still could have made up some kind of excuse, but it was a holiday after all and more than anything she wanted to at least return for the sake of her younger siblings and mother. She certainly wasn’t looking forward to whatever pompous dinner party Jacques was planing…

Part 11 The Stranger (Bonus Story Followup) Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

This picks up shorty after Part 9 of the Series - The Stranger (Bonus Story) —-

Winter entered her private quarters at the military base.

She had just accompanied her younger sister back to her dorm room and decided to quickly go back to her own room. Weiss had been taking a walk around the academy and gotten as far as the military wing where she had coincidentally met her partner moments before Winter arrived to pick up said partner.

Her partner who was sitting on Winter’s bed, a book next to her, and now fighting to hastily put on an arm sling.

Winter sighed.

“Why do you never listen?”

Winter walked towards her partner who was now pouting to the side.

Part 12 Step by Step Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter had received a message from her partner asking her to come to their room.

Her partner usually wasn’t the type to send messages asking for her to come and meet her somewhere. ‘Pragmatism’ as Cassie called it or ‘laziness’ as Winter called it, had her simply use her semblance most of the time to materialize somewhere close to Winter whenever she needed something from her. Or she would just come and quickly get her whenever they needed to be somewhere together.

Cassie also usually didn’t care much about whoever she would give a heart attack by simply appearing out of nowhere.

And so curious as to why her partner had specifically asked her to come and meet her, Winter had quickly packed up her things in the library and started to walk back to their shared room.

When she entered the room her partner had been sitting on the lower bunk with her knees up against her chest and her face burrowed on top of them.

Part 13 Apart: C-Side Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

This runs parallel to the Apart Story Arc/Part 10 of the Series and narrates a day of Cassie Grey’s holiday while Winter was at the manor. —– It was late in the afternoon when Cassie rematerialized into the double room.

She had just picked up her weapon which she had dropped off at one of the academy’s facilities this morning. Cassie had spend the past two days cleaning and readjusting it herself in her shared room, but there was no way she could freshen up the paint here.

She simply didn’t have the time to neatly remove the old and apply the new paint on her own. She also couldn’t do it without basically poisoning herself with the fumes in the room. And that’s even if she was to crack open a window the entire time and overnight and also risk freezing to death in her sleep.

Cassie also would have had to go back to combat lessons without a weapon, because there was no way the paint would have completely dried in time by the end of the holidays.

The Atlesian military however provided the academy with facilities that allowed her to simply drop off her weapon in the morning, input the paint job she wants done on a terminal and simply come back to pick it up all ready in the afternoon.

Part 14 Comfort and Ease 1/1 Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Winter’s head was resting on her arms on top of her desk. She had finished every report and piece of homework for the week and she had connected a pair of earbuds to her scroll. She had closed her eyes and been listening for a while when she suddenly felt something close to her head. She bolted up and immediately removed the earbuds.

“C-cassie, when did you come here?”

Her partner was standing next to her with a smug smile on her face. Had she been so engrossed that she hadn’t even felt her materialize? Or had Cassie actually used the door for once and she simply hadn’t heard her?

“Oh, just a few moments ago…”

“I see, did you find what you needed from the library?”

Winter tried to immediately distract her while subtly pushing the pause button on her scroll and turning it face down. She wasn’t going to risk her partner asking questions she really didn’t feel like answering.

“I did. I already placed the books on my desk. You didn’t notice however since you were so absorbed in whatever you were listening to just right now.”

Dang. Winter should have known better.

Part 15 A Partner’s Present Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

It was the weekend and Winter was quietly working away on her academy assignments at her desk. She was alone in the room.

In fact she had been alone since this morning. She had even woken up to a note beside her pillow telling her that her partner will be back around noon.

She reached for her scroll and sighed. It was already some time past noon. Maybe whatever Cassie was doing took longer than expected.

But Winter didn’t mind. Because as much as treasured and loved her partner, today of all days she simply wanted to be left alone. Just as the thought had crossed her mind she felt how her partner was about to materialize behind her.

One of Cassie’s arms moved around her shoulder and her head dropped on the other side.

“Winnn-teeeerrr.” She was cheerfully humming her name.

“What do you want?”

Winter was a little irritable today and she really wasn’t in the mood for any of her games.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Cassie chuckled and nuzzled against her.

“Here.”

Part 16 Semblance Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

Cassie was alone in her room.

Her grandmother was in the kitchen making light dinner preparations for later. Cassie had greeted her from the front door without going to see her and she had immediately sprinted to her room on the second floor afterwards.

The small Faunus sat by her bed on the floor, her arms around her knees and her face burrowed in them. Her body hurt, her elbow was bruised, her sweater was torn in that place. Her ears hang low and they were sore from all of the tearing and pulling.

——– ——–

Winter was in her father’s office.

A gala he had put together at the manor had just ended. She had played the violin well, she had quietly stayed by his side and behind him.

Everything had went well up until the moment one of his business partner’s sons had asked her to dance and she had refused.

Part 17 Rest Chapters: 1/1 - Summary:

It was the evening and Winter was sitting on her bed.

She put the text book she was reading down on her knees to look at her partner who was currently at her desk grinding away at a report and sighed.

Cassie had been at her desk for quite a few hours now and Winter could tell that her partner was getting increasingly more frustrated at the subject Winter knew she had no interested in whatsoever.

What’s more, her partner was bored by the subject and she hated the professor teaching it. And Winter couldn’t blame her since she as well couldn’t have cared any less for him.

#rwby8 #winter schnee #rwby winter schnee #weiss schnee #rwby fanfic #rwby winter #rwby #rwby fanfiction #for those of you who need a bit more rwby related stuff during the hiatus :)#I can only highly recommend this if you love winter :)

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