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antebunny · 3 years

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never fear, your fairy godmother is here!

(It's Wei Wuxian. He's the fairy godmother)

Wei Wuxian is riding high off a difficult case finally closed when the next call comes through. He’s staring aimlessly into the beautiful delta waters of Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng when the tingling begins, a familiar sensation somewhere in his chest that tells him that somewhere is a worthy human in need of a guide for their happy ever after.

“–So then I thought, well what am I supposed to do? She doesn’t want a lover or a partner, but her future isn’t fame or riches either.”

Wei Wuxian isn’t sure that Jiang Cheng is actually listening to him, but he’s very proud of himself, so Jiang Cheng can suck it up. He’s used to finding his new charges in difficult and tragic circumstances, but he’s rarely found someone in quite such a sticky situation as poor Qin Su.

“And she insists that she doesn’t have someone in mind,” Wei Wuxian continues. “So you know what I did?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Cheng says vaguely, because he’s not listening at all. “Very cool.” He’s not a very good brother, Jiang Cheng. Well, they’re not related, but they also weren’t really born, they just kind of exist, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t worry too much about it.

“I found her a whole team!” Wei Wuxian finishes proudly. “I got a doctor from Qishan, who was looking to get away from her family, and her little brother, and a top disciple from Lanling, and boom! Team of four! That’s a family right there. They’re going to be friends for life.”

“Do you ever consider not boasting about yourself?” Jiang Cheng wonders out loud.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian objects. “I’ll have you know I’m the number one fairy godmother!”

Jiang Cheng merely rolls his eyes. “As you haven’t stopped saying for the past hundred years.”

“Well, it’s–” Wei Wuxian stops mid-sentence and puts one hand behind him on the wooden planks of the boardwalk so he doesn’t collapse when his stomach rolls.

“Another one?” Jiang Cheng demands. “So soon?”

“I’m in high demand,” Wei Wuxian says weakly.

“But jiejie and I have spent all day making a celebratory dinner,” Jiang Cheng says, dismayed. Then he corrects himself. “I mean, jiejie’s spent all day making dinner for us! Do you want to disappoint her? Do you?!”

Wei Wuxian stands up. If he wasn’t still flushed with success, if only he’d listened to the odd, twisting sensation that said this was not a normal case of a damsel in need of true love, perhaps he would’ve stayed. Perhaps none of what followed would have happened. But perhaps it was always destined to happen.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Wei Wuxian declares foolishly, and vanishes.

He appears in a thematically dark and twisted forest near sundown. The wind is whispering ominously through the leaves. Wei Wuxian pushes aside a branch in order to enter the clearing from which an ugly sobbing sound is coming from. It must be his new client.

By the light of the dying sun, Wei Wuxian can make out a hunched form dressed in fine white robes. The crying is quiet, but the person’s back shudders. They seem to be holding something. Wei Wuxian takes a moment to adjust. A great pair of black and red butterfly wings appear on his back. Humans more readily accept that he’s capable of inhuman feats if there’s something inhuman (but non threatening) about him. He usually goes for crow or raven wings, but he thinks the current setting might be a little inappropriate for that. Many of Wei Wuxian’s fellow fairy godmothers also opt for fancy robes, but Wei Wuxian’s never really felt comfortable with them.

Wei Wuxian clears his throat. “Hello,” he calls.

The man–because it is a man, Wei Wuxian quickly realizes, with a beauty he’s come to expect from his clients, and a cultivator’s sword–whirls around. He hasn’t got a very expressive face, but Wei Wuxian has spent hundreds of years around people. His client’s eyes are wild, disbelieving. He’s got a Lan ribbon on his forehead, one of the inner clan, if Wei Wuxian isn’t mistaken, and he never is. There are two tear tracks running down his cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Wei Wuxian steps closer. His new client staggers to his feet and looks away, but whatever he was holding or looking at is gone. When he looks back at Wei Wuxian, there’s an awestruck look of recognition on his face. Wei Wuxian grins, pleased to see that his influence has reached the ears of humans.

The man takes one shaky step forward. He seems to be trying to drink in Wei Wuxian’s presence, soak him in just by looking at him. Wei Wuxian can’t blame him. He is very impressive.

On that thought, Wei Wuxian spreads his arms wide. “Never fear, mortal! Your hour of distress has come to an end!” Above their heads, a cloud drifts away and allows the moon to beam through, bathing Wei Wuxian with soft light. “It is I, Wei Wuxian, your fairy godmother!”

Now his client is just staring at him blankly. Wei Wuxian’s grin falters. He lowers his arms and clears his throat. “Perhaps you didn’t h–”

“What’s a fairy godmother?” The client interrupts.

Really?

Wei Wuxian sighs. “I am in charge of finding you a happy ending, in whatever form that may take,” he answers.

He waits another beat. This is usually where his clients start thanking him.

The man does not look very impressed. “How does that involve butterfly wings?”

“I–!” Wei Wuxian starts, very offended and very taken aback. “I…thought they would be less threatening than crow wings?”

The man stares at him. Wei Wuxian vanishes the wings with a thought.

“Well, if you have a preference, just let me know,” Wei Wuxian grumbles sulkily. “I am at your service, after all.”

“That is unnecessary,” the man says flatly. The tears haven’t dried but he’s composed himself. He turns away from Wei Wuxian deliberately.

“What do you mean?” Wei Wuxian asks, chasing his client through the clearing when the cultivator starts to walk away.

“I am not in need of your help,” the ungrateful bastard says.

“Wh–! Yes, you are!” Wei Wuxian argues. “I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t a worthy damsel in distress in need of my services.”

At that term damsel in distress the man turns and gives him a withering, wintry glare. It’s under-cut by a deep well of loss, pain, and sadness that Wei Wuxian is convinced he can see on his client’s face. And to the rejection of damsel of distress, he can only shrug. It’s true.

“I’ll have you know I am the top fairy godmother,” Wei Wuxian says, in reply to the glare, as pretentiously as he can. “For the past hundred years. I have never failed a client. Whatever it is you want, true love, honor, treasure, a kingdom, I can find it for you. I promise you I have seen it all before.”

His client finally stops running away from him. Wei Wuxian saunters up to him. “If it’s love you’re worrying about, people are less narrow-minded than you think. There’s bound to be someone out there who’s exactly who you’re looking for. Well, most of them. Actually, my clients are sometimes a little narrow-minded. One of them specifically requested that I find a true love for him that had never been turned into an animal. A little narrow-minded, don’t you think?”

At this point, Wei Wuxian is up in his face, and his client is starting to look a little overwhelmed. Wei Wuxian backs up, gives him a little space. The Lan cultivator turns to look at the spot in the clearing where he’d been kneeling before Wei Wuxian showed up.

“Can you bring back the dead?” His client asks abruptly.

Wei Wuxian falters. “That’s–ehhh, that’s a, uh, gray area. Kind of depends. I’m going to lean towards no. Yeah, feels like a no. No necromancy here. I have definitely never done that before.”

The righteous Lan cultivator actually has the nerve to look disappointed in him. “Then I have no use for you,” he says stiffly, and starts to walk away again.

“Okay, hold up!” Wei Wuxian splutters, hurrying after him. The man does not hold up, forcing Wei Wuxian to keep pace through the dark forest. It’s no problem for Wei Wuxian, but rather rude, all things considered. “How rude! Here I am offering to solve your life’s problems and you question my abilities–you know I once created a whole celestial mountain for one of my clients–hey! Think of my reputation,” he begs, when his rude client continues to walk away. “I have never, ever failed a client before. Think of how it would look if one of my clients just walked away! Just give me a chance. Please. Please?”

His runaway client finally stops running away, right in a thicket of trees. Wei Wuxian almost bumps into him.

“This is important to you?” His client asks finally, without looking back.

“Oh yes, very,” Wei Wuxian knows immediately, because that’s the thing about his clients. They’re all good people, whether they’d like to admit it or not. The only people who like to help more than them are the fairy godmothers. “It would make me very happy to make you happy.”

The man’s shoulders relax ever-so slightly. “Very well.”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian fist-pumps. He glances up at the moon, reminding himself that humans have to do things like eat and sleep. “Okay, first things first, I’ll get you home,” he decides. “Tomorrow we can–”

“I have no home,” his new client interrupts in a dispassionate tone that suggests this subject has one too many emotions for him to handle.

Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow internally and thinks of his Lan clan ribbon, but says nothing. He merely mentally files this client into the hundreds of lost-their-home clients that have come before him. There’s no telling why his new client lost his home. Usually they tell Wei Wuxian about their woes willingly, without Wei Wuxian having to beg them to burden him with their problems. But there’s a whole host of solutions to the no-home problem, exactly none of which Wei Wuxian can think of when the man reaches up and pulls his forehead ribbon off with trembling fingers.

“Um,” Wei Wuxian warbles. He averts his eyes from the now bare forehead. Later he’ll chalk it up to the difficulty in acquiring this client and the subsequent need to prove his powers that leads him to suggest: “W-what about my house?”

His client turns to face him. He looks a little shocked, but mostly confused.

“I live in the heavenly Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian says grandly. Well, he tries to say it grandly, but it comes out matter-of-fact. “I’ve got plenty of room. And you needn’t worry about politics up there.”

Slowly, his client nods, his face unreadable.

“Great,” Wei Wuxian says brightly. He reaches for his client’s hand, ignores the scandalized look he receives, and vanishes both of them to Lotus Pier.

They appear in a pavilion at the end of one of the many boardwalks. Enormous pastel lotus flowers dot the still waters. In the distance, the still waters cascade into a roaring waterfall that pours off the edge of the heavens. Above them, the sun is setting. Wei Wuxian’s client is winded from the sudden travel, so Wei Wuxian doesn’t let go of his hand. The scent of fresh water and spice sets in.

When the client steadies himself, Wei Wuxian tugs him out of the pavilion. The human’s eyes widen as the halls of Lotus Pier come into view, and Wei Wuxian smirks to himself. That’s the only reason why he’s sad that humans don’t come to Lotus Pier. He’d love a chance to show off his home more.

His client is still trying to take in the magnificent sloping roofs, the purple clouds and the dusk orange sky, when Wei Wuxian urges him into a walk.

“Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, still smiling widely. “We’ll be late for dinner.”

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #who let me write fic at midnight again #this seems like a terrible idea #my writing #greetings tumblr void #still pushing my damsel lwj agenda #ficlet

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hopeyallenjoy · 3 years

Text

First time

Tell me the truth Severus. Don't you want me?

Pairing : Young Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Warnings : slights smut ; severus switch and reader switch ; dom/sub kink ; little bit of swearing ; alone at house ; bathroom teasing

Wordcount : 3,504 words

Request : Marauder era Severus x reader’s first time

Resume : That’s the same request as “An eventful birthday” but I did it with a more bold reader and only Severus' first time. Hope you’ll enjoy it just as much !

Y/l/n = Your last name Y/n = Your name

"She asked you what?" said Lucius as he and Severus headed to their common room.

"She invited me to come spend the weekend at her house over the vacations," Severus repeated, rolling his eyes to the sky.

"Tell me mate, you've been dating Y/l/n for how long now?" Lucius as he opened the door to their dormitory.

"9 months." he replied.

"And you've already gone beyond a simple kiss? You know, despite what they say about young wizards, it's the young women who are the most hormone-driven. Think about it, Severus! That's why they're all so obsessed with love. They need a man and they need him to be their own to calm their ardor. And it's even truer for the veela.”

Severus shook his head negatively, setting his things down on his bed. Lucius couldn't help but smile mischievously at his friend.

"What are you getting at?" he asked when Malfoy didn't continue.

"My point is that she didn't invite you to chat. She wants you, Severus Snape, the dark male, to take over and make her your bitch.” Severus widened his eyes, not expecting such a revelation.

Was this really the case? You were a former student of Durmstrang Institute who had arrived at Hogwarts at the beginning of seventh year even though you were already of age. Because of the reputation of your former school, rumors about you had spread within a week of school, claiming that you were an accomplished black mage or a monster from the darkness, a cross between a veela and a vampire. You ended up in Slytherin, which wasn't entirely in your favor. You even had to deal with the most popular students in the school who were self-appointed protectors of Hogwarts and wanted to check the rumors. Luckily for you, you were persuasive. You weren't a dark mage or a monster, but you had learned enough from Durmstrang to stand up for yourself and stop anyone from stepping on your toes.

After your little show of strength, girls started coming to you when a boy bothered them and guys who thought they were irresistible, like Lucius Malfoy or Sirius Black, came to try their luck with you. You'd packed them all, one by one. None of these boys were interesting for you, you only had eyes for your Potions and DADA partner, Severus Snape, the only one who didn't ogle your form even when he thought you didn't see him, the only one who shared your curiosity about dark magic, and especially the only one who didn't seem to be interested in you. That's what you liked about him, he really wasn't interested in you, or at least not more than in friendship, until you spent more and more time with him and finally confessed your love.

In fact, you didn't really do that, you two just kissed on a full moon night in the astronomy tower and it was so natural between you that you just started acting like a couple. Holding hands during Hogsmeade outings or during classes, kissing for hours in your common room while all the other students were watching Quidditch matches, taking turns reading poetry under the moonlight every night or so. In short, everything was done in a natural way, without the need for embarrassing confessions or the obligation to call each other ridiculous names. No, you had no obligation to each other, you just saw other as you pleased, doing the things you liked and it was just... perfect.

The more Severus thought about it, the more he thought how stupid it would be to change that.

Add sex to such a perfect relationship? No way. It wasn't that he didn't find you attractive, on the contrary, he simply found you breath taking and sometimes wondered what such a beauty was doing by his side but he wasn’t sure that sex was for him. Sex was always something you grow tired of, and there was so much about it that he didn't know, he was sure he would disappoint you if you ever introduced sex to your relationship. Everything Severus Snape knew about sex, Lucius had told him, and if there was one thing he had learned from his friend's stories, it was that sex was complicated.

Then when he presented himself in front of the door of the manor Y/l/n, he was well decided to keep his pants on. He knocked and expected to see one of your parents open the door for him, but he came face to face with your little face when the big door was fully opened. His eyes didn't leave your face but his peripheral vision allowed him to see that you were dressed a little lightly for the season, a simple t-shirt pulled over your tantalizing curves. He swallowed hardly. Keeping his pants on seemed much more difficult now.

"Hello, Sev'. I see you're still on time. You'll excuse me, this time it's me who's a little late." you gave him your best smile and invited him to come in "My parents aren’t here so I took the opportunity to sleep in a little longer.”

Well, that wasn't entirely true, but he didn't need to know that, did he? You'd been up for a while and had spent the morning getting ready for the special weekend ahead. Despite the blasé expression you wore, inside you, your hormones and your heart were racing. Your little Severus was just beautiful and you were even more aware of it now that you saw him without his school uniform.

“Do you mind if I go put something on quickly?“ you asked without noticing the gleam of desire in the eyes of your companion.

He shook his head negatively too happy that you propose of yourself to remove this angelic vision of which he had difficulty to get out. Merlin what you could be beautiful. You left to change your clothes after taking him into the great hall. Severus was trying to calm his imagination as he gazed out at the garden of your house that could be seen from the living room window. He was still standing there when you returned from your room, looking so absorbed that you had to pull him by the sleeve to get his attention. When he turned around he was breathless again. You had changed but your new outfit didn't help his case at all. You were now wearing a flowing black knee-length dress with a white corset that showed off your slim waist and gently carried your swaying breasts. If he was to believe what he saw, you weren't wearing a bra and he hoped... no panties either.

"Severus...are you okay?" you questioned as he said nothing.

Severus quickly pulled himself together, serving you one of his grinning smiles that only he had the secret to. What was he talking about? Wasn't he the one who wanted to keep your relationship simple and natural? As recently as thirty minutes ago? And now he was the one who imagined you fucking on the floor, after having torn off your little black dress. This weekend was getting more and more complicated for him. He nodded nevertheless seeing the worried look that you threw to him, the back of your hand put on his forehead as if to see if he had a fever.

"Are you sure? You're all red?" he took your hand, squeezing it gently.

"Yes, yes. It's just your beauty that bewitches me," he said, placing a light kiss on your hand.

It was your turn to blush. Severus' compliments were rare and always came when you least expected them, so when he complimented you, you took full advantage. You kissed him tenderly.

"Idiot. You scared me."

He savored her words in turn, still not used to someone worrying about him and showing it.

"I should scare you more often if you kiss me like that every time" he murmured a sneer stretching his lips.

"You know very well that I would kiss you every day like that even if I wasn't worried. You just have to ask me or... do it on your own.”

At the fiery look you gave him, Severus stiffened and looked away a little.

"Do you have a chess set? It's been a long time since I've played against the grand queen of chess," he said in an attempt to divert your attention.

This worked in part, you nodded and went to get your chess set and then you sat down at the small table near the window. It was a hectic late afternoon of battles and verbal jousting, all of it friendly and good-natured. Even if your thoughts were turned to the particular behavior of your boyfriend. You wanted to wait for him to come and explain to you on his own what was the problem but you were sure he wouldn't. You didn't embarrass him with a serious discussion though, not wanting to spoil the wonderful weekend ahead. And you were right. Severus, on the other hand, was having a hard time concentrating, with hot scenarios taking up all his attention. If you had always been a bit daring, he had never noticed before, too busy admiring your little face or your knowledge of dark magic. And now he was biting his fingers, having the impression to rediscover the wild beauty that you were.

Laughing loudly, arm in arm, you entered the kitchen, your bellies rumbling. You brought in the leftovers from the night before and you gobbled them up in a few seconds, neither you nor he being picky in terms of food and it wasn't as if you had eaten mud, quite the contrary.

It was your father who had made the food the day before. He had deliberately prepared more food than he needed, not wanting to leave his princess without food during the long weekend he was going to spend away from you.Because yes, you had fought for your parents, especially your father, to leave you at the mansion alone. Yet they knew you could handle yourself, after six consecutive years at Durmstrang, it was rare not to know how to handle yourself.

The meal was just as nerve-wracking for Severus as he couldn't help but make you laugh which made your breasts jiggle under the thin fabric of your dress. You even bent down to grab the pepper on the table which allowed him to see that you were indeed not wearing a bra. He almost choked, his imagination and hormones still running wild. By the end of the meal, Severus was convinced that he was going to lose his mind before the end of the weekend if it continued like this.

"Y /n, could I know where the bathroom is? I'd like to take a shower before I go to sleep, if that's possible," Severus asked, convinced that a nice cold shower would put his mind at ease.

"Oh, of course. The bathroom is upstairs. It's the first door on the left. Do you need me to lend you something? Slippers, a nightgown?” you asked as a particularly Machiavellian idea appeared in your mind.

At this point of the evening, you had understood that your boyfriend, who you thought was so innocent, had started to understand that you were no longer a child and that your body was indeed the one of a young adult. Seeing him almost choke at each movement you made and that revealed a little more of your forms, was, it had to be said, a most amusing spectacle. So you let him go up the stairs to the bathroom and slowly followed him once the plates were washed and put away.

Meanwhile, Severus had slipped out of his black clothes and into the bathtub, which was filled to the brim. It wasn't every day that he could afford a nice hot bath and he was sure you wouldn't mind if he took a few drops of the Muggle lotions that adorned the rim of the big tub. He slipped all the way into the water, after a deep breath, desperate to calm his ardor. If Severus Snape was so determined not to give in to temptation it was mainly due to the bad treatment he had received from the Marauders, humiliating him to the point where his body was dripping and he was unable to touch himself, even alone. So how could he have succeeded in maintaining a carnal relationship with anyone? Love, love was different, he felt it and managed to express it, but sex? Very little for him. Finally, this afternoon spent by your side had shown him that even if the thing seemed inconceivable to him, he was still capable of desiring someone. And to want you, he wanted you really bad. He opened his eyes, his head still immersed in the bathtub, and saw through the water a figure towering over him. He emerged from the water recognizing your little face.

There you were, standing in front of him, you had left your corset behind and were now wearing only your black dress. Your face was still impassive.

"Y/n? What the..." he began.

"Sev', do you love me?" you didn't let him finish, starting your Machiavellian plan. "Because I'm starting to doubt it, you know? You've been acting weird ever since you got here. So tell me the truth, Severus. Don't you want me?" as you spoke his words, you let your robe slip off at your feet showing yourself completely naked to him.

Severus could not believe his eyes. In that moment, he couldn't stop his eyes from devouring you, his cheeks from turning red, and his sex from growing. The fire that swept over him was so sudden that it took his breath away. You were satisfied with your little effect, but when Severus didn't move, just clung to the edge of the tub, you slid as sensually as possible into the bath without taking your eyes off him. Severus watched you, holding his breath. Yes, you were definitely going to drive him crazy.

"-Severus, how do I look?" you asked again as he still hadn't said anything.

"Y/n... You don't know what you're saying. I... I want you so much, you can't even imagine how much but..." Severus was short of breath, "I've never done anything, never even t-touched myself. I wouldn't know how to... I wouldn't know how to do it and I could only..." you cut him off, kissing him gently as tears of frustration flooded down his face.

You felt a little bad now that you knew the truth. You had never wanted to made him cry but you understood that he needed to cry so you let him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, in fact, everything that was within your reach, wanting to reassure him a maximum.

"Shhhhh Sev'... It's okay, don't worry. I'm here. Shhhhhh... Oh boy ! I could never be disappointed in you, Sev' I assure you. So please don't cry anymore. I hate seeing you like this. I love you so much, you know." you continued to kiss him with your arms around his neck.

"I-i love you so much t-too ," he replied between sobs.

Severus was drowning in your affection, his whole body burning. He felt so good in your arms, covered in your kisses. You covered him with tender kisses for another moment, telling him how beautiful he was in your eyes between two kisses. Once the sadness passed, he wanted to return your affection, covering the zebra skin of your breasts with soft kisses which felt like butterfly wings. Then the butterflies became more urgent as your hand clung to his ebony hair and your lips let out sighs of pleasure. You pulled your lover's face up to steal a passionate kiss, your two foreheads finally pressed together, your body slightly elevated as Severus had his arms around your waist.

"Do you... do you want to go all the way Sev'? I certainly don't want to force you to do anything you don’t want, love."

How? Weren't you supposed to not give him ridiculous nicknames? I don't remember saying that. Severus nodded, pulling you tighter against him.

"Guide me, Y/n," he breathed.

His voice was infused with desire, as was his entire body. He was overflowing and tense with desire beyond your touch. You placed his hands in the places you knew were your pleasure points, guiding him to know what to do. His lips came to rest on your neck as you told him to, as your hands slid gently through the cool bath water to land on his crotch. It may have been hard to believe but Severus Snape was very well built, his sex was moderate in size but not all the way down, his base and glans were wider than the rest. It was also slightly curved towards the glans. If you hadn't already had other relationships you wouldn't have realized just by touching him, that Severus was just perfect for you. Your fingers began to do him good, drawing grunts from him that made your skin tingle as he didn't stop his attentions. When you felt him grow a little larger in your hands you stopped your stroking, spreading your own legs just enough for him to enter.

"Severus... I want to cum with you..." he understood the invitation taking his sex in his hands and positioning it facing the entrance to your pussy.

He didn't really know what to do once he entered so it was you who guided him again, initiating back and forth, impaling yourself a little more each time, your hands resting on his shoulders. Severus moaned with each return, feeling your insides react to his member. You weren't especially tight, but he was still able to fill you up completely. You guided him for a moment and then he felt confident enough to take over. Slowly but surely, he varied the strength of his thrusts. Then he added his lips in your neck making you plant your nails in his shoulders when a so good and... unexpected pleasure. Instinctively, he squeezed you tighter as the last thrust inside you came accompanied by waves of immeasurable pleasure. He had finished before you but you were so close to cumming that you couldn't stop a groan of frustration from coming out of your mouth.

"This one is different from the others. Did I hurt you?" Severus fretted as he came to stop, causing you to let out another frustrated moan.

"No, no, no ! I... Can you go on a little longer, please? I'm not far..." you whispered in his ear.

He undulated his pelvis gently under you, a sneer coming to perch on his lips.

"What exactly do you want, Y/n? I need you to explain it to me precisely, please. I don't think I'm experienced enough yet to understand your demands without you finishing your sentences," he said, kissing your temple.

He knew perfectly well what he was doing now. You wanted to protest by realizing it but it had started again to undulate under you, letting out of your mouth only words drowned between your moans. He ended up kissing your temple again, letting you breathe and waiting for your answer.

"I want you to fuck me until... Until I cum Severus, please!" you finally managed to articulate making Severus' smile grew wider and wider.

"Gladly, love," he replied as he began to pound you again.

#severus x reader #severus snape #snape community #snape x reader #snape love #snape content #snape deserved better #snape fanfiction #i love snape #smut #snape fandom #professor snape #snape defense

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Rainy Day

Frederick Chilton x Reader

For @storiesofsvu’s Fall Bingo! Requested by a discord friend (& basically co-written by—this is all her idea!)

Warnings: Post-burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. Chilton goes for a walk and gets rained on. It’s too late for an umbrella to help, but you’ll offer anyway.

1,200 words

The clouds darkened by a shade with every painfully slow step he took toward the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Out across the bay, thunder rolled low and distant. The sidewalk was dry, but he could not yet see the hospital rising above the suburban city outskirts. Knowing his luck, the storm would speed up in his direction, outpacing his retreat.

Dr. Frederick Chilton could only move so fast these days.

His joints ached, his muscle tone was still diminished, and his skin… his skin was far too tight. Gods—he remembered one time, in a pique of fashion, he had tried on those skinny jeans the hipsters were so fond of. He nearly had to be surgically removed from the constricting garment. That was what it felt like all the time now—the burn scars surrounding his legs’ circumference were their own overly tight fabric.

Walking was part of his daily physical therapy regimen, which he attempted to do over lunch. He was the BSHCI’s administrator again after a year-long recovery. The familiar job was the best place for him now. In the old days, he saw running the hospital as a position of prestige—a launching board for fame as a criminal psychiatrist. Now, he saw it as it was—a place to hide in anonymity. A place he could languish, simply coasting without worrying about fans or interviews in front of cameras promoting his latest novel.

The trees whispered as a cold rush of wind struck his face. Rain began to fall.

From the first day he met you, you always looked at him with such kindness. Nothing like his other staff. You were a little reserved, a bit shy. Didn’t seem to mix with the others either, like him. You smiled all the time, like he used to do when he was young and still thought he could be friends with everyone, before he discovered how they spoke about him when he was not in the room, unaware of his monitoring devices. But you never spoke that way.

How he wished he had said something sooner.

Dark circles pattered into existence on the grey pavement. The few other pedestrians out on the street began to sprint for shelter, and then he was alone. Beneath the red-and-orange leaved street trees, mirror images of the canopy were painted on the dry sidewalk. The musty smell of earth filled his nose.

The day Frederick Chilton left the BSHCI to tour his book, Hannibal the Cannibal, he thought he was such a bigshot.

There were more important things to do than pursue romance with a lowly secretary who made his heart beat faster. He was finally on his way to national acclaim. There would be more romances on his rise—partners more befitting his station.

He left you behind without ever telling you…

Rain was pouring now—heavy, round droplets that beat against the ground and soaked through his suit. Cold.

A car driving too fast deliberately swerved into a puddle at the curb to splash him, and dirty water pelted his leg. He jumped back and swore, angrily shaking his cane at their taillights, but it hardly mattered. The suit was already ruined. It was worsted wool of the finest quality, and the chances of it drying correctly were slim.

He already had to buy new suits tailored to fit his gaunt body.

The last thing he remembered was the smell of gasoline smoke and his own flesh burning, then waking up in a white room, unable to move his limbs.

Pain everywhere.

For the first few weeks, it was so ubiquitous, so searing, he couldn’t even remember that his lips were gone.

Hypermetabolism and six months of bed rest reduced his body mass by 70 pounds. He lost so much: skin, lips, independence. But he gained something, too.

A soft knock.

Your shy voice at the door.

The breeze howled, ripping off yellow leaves from branches and setting them spiraling into the grey sky. Frederick hugged his arms around his shivering body, but it was a futile gesture against the autumn chill.

You were his one regular visitor in the hospital. Though he was a snarling, angry, nearly feral creature at first, trapped in a chrysalis of humiliation and pain, you tolerated it. Found ways to made him laugh—a dark and cynical bark—and eventually even smile. He enjoyed your company, and you seemed to enjoy his. The witty conversations would last until visiting hours were over, and a nurse shooed you out.

When he learned that you still worked at the BSHCI, it cemented his decision to return.

After all this time, someone was waiting for him.

Squinting his eyes through the rivulets of water running down his forehead, Frederick noticed a splash of bright red at the end of the block. It grew larger, coming toward him. The Red Death coming for Prospero was his first superstitious thought, or an envoy of the Red Dragon come to finish him off where his master failed.

As the figure jogged closer and came into focus, Frederick realized it was not the red of blood and death, but the red of a rose—of life and passion. You held up the umbrella against the downpour, your boots splashing through puddles as you hurried to reach him.

When your soft hands held his ghastly, mutilated, scarred claws, he felt like a monster, not a lover. He was broken. He had loved you for so long, but he was too broken now—it was pointless. A walking corpse (who could barely walk, at that) should not attach himself like an anchor to someone so lovely and full of life.

You were kind and gentle and patient, and he was a burden.

Why did he wait to tell you? Why did he think promoting a book was more important than being near the one person to make him feel like a decent man?

“Found you!” you panted for breath, sides expanding and falling rapidly. “I saw the weather… and I noticed you… didn’t take…” You stood close and held up the umbrella to shelter him.

Above, the constant pelting of freezing droplets on his forehead transformed into the low roar of rain hitting a tent roof. His drenched suit continued to drip. The $2,000 real-hair wig was plastered to his scorched-bald scalp like a drowned rat.

“I am not certain this will make any difference,” he let out a small laugh at the umbrella that arrived too late.

“You’ve been through enough,” you smiled sadly. “Let me help where I can.”

“That is kind of you.”

Without being prompted, he reached out for your hand and let it warm his icy fingertips. You leaned against his chest, unconcerned that your own clothes were getting wet, and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek. It was too chilly a day for him to grumble and withdraw from your affection, calling himself a monster. He was freezing to the bone, and the heat of your lips felt too good.

It was too late, wasn’t it? Too late for love; too late to be saved.

He turned and nuzzled your neck, nipping the soft, salty skin there. It was a much more comforting sensation to focus on than the clinging of his wet clothes. And he was glad, as you walked back to the BSHCI together, that no new raindrops fell on his head.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Taglist:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #storiesofsvufallbingo

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nikki-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Beauty In the Blood - Part 5

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part four here!

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

*Please read to the end for another author’s note!*

A/N: Warning, folks! Here be smut! Nothing too dark in this chapter as far as gore or violence goes, though. Which... I suppose is a plus, considering this story. I hope you guys enjoy!

Too good to be true.

That was the thought that kept plaguing you, even four months later. He’s too good to be true. This relationship is too good to be true. What happens when I figure out that this is too good to possibly be true?

And yet, day after day, Loki continued to prove you wrong. It wasn’t all just the big romantic overtures that you found out he loved to make. (Like the time he had a dozen red roses delivered to your door on your one-months anniversary. Or the brand new matching wireless keyboard and mouse he got to make writing easier for you. Or the time he took you to a quaint, tucked away speak-easy to treat you to a night of drinks and slow dancing.)

It was in the little things, too. How he would come over on days where you felt less-than-good to hold you and watch your favorite movies. Or how he would send you texts throughout the day to tell you about an interesting case at work, or to ask you what you wanted for dinner on date night, or just to tell you that he was thinking about you.

In fact, some would even say that he was too attentive, too perfect, and were it anyone else, alarm bells would be going off in your head. But there was something about him that made you keep coming back for more, and even with months now behind you, you still couldn’t get enough.

And maybe that was why you were so nervous right now. Pacing back and forth across the length of your bedroom, you stared down at your stocking-clad feet as you tried frantically to tamp down the butterflies batting around your rib cage. You knew, consciously, that even if tonight were a disaster, Loki would still care about you. He wouldn’t just up and leave, even if Thor ended up despising you.

But you still really hoped he wouldn’t.

A gasp parted your lips when the tell-tale sound of your doorbell echoed throughout your home, and after one more deep breath, you pulled your heels on and made your way down the stairs. With one last glance in the mirror and a quick, silent prayer to whoever might be listening, you threw your purse over your shoulder and opened your front door.

His smile still caught you off guard sometimes. As you stepped out into the darkness of the evening, you felt heat flood your cheeks as Loki grinned up at you. He was dressed impeccably as always, sporting a dark green suit with a crisp white shirt, and if the way his eyes raked over you was anything to go by, he was more than pleased with how you looked, as well.

“And you must be the woman I’ve heard so much about!”

A loud, booming voice took you off guard, and you watched as annoyance flashed over your boyfriend’s face at the outburst. As he turned to shoot a glare over his shoulder, you caught a flash of the other man waiting at the base of your front steps, and though you already knew that Loki was adopted, you were still briefly taken aback by just how different the two brothers were.

Thor was just as large as Loki had described, and although the two stood at about the same height, his shoulders and build were so broad that he would have been quite intimidating, were it not for the large grin on his face. His long hair was pulled up into a loose bun, showing off a pair of blue eyes that seemed to radiate genuine happiness, and despite your still-present nerves, you couldn’t help but let a matching smile come over your features.

“Hi, Thor. Loki’s told me so much about you.”

“And I’m sure all of it is incredibly flattering, right?” He sent a conspiratorial glance back to Loki, who only raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever could I tell her about you that wouldn’t be flattering, brother?”

“Nothing comes to mind, seeing whereas I’ve never done anything wrong or questionable.”

“Thor Odinson? Perish the thought.”

The man in question let out a bark of laughter before turning back to you and extending his arm for a handshake.

“Well, my brother has nothing but glowing remarks about you,” he remarked, all but crushing your hand in his grip. “And I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally meet the woman who’s stolen Loki’s heart.”

Once more, you felt heat rising in your face, and you let out a nervous chuckle as Thor dropped your hand. From your right, you felt an arm slither around your waist, and you leaned into Loki’s warmth.

“Thank you so much! It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

“You don’t need to lie for his sake, love,” Loki stage-whispered into your ear. Rolling your eyes, you gave him a nudge with your elbow, though Thor seemed to be used to his brother’s sass. Without a glance in his direction, Thor reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, clicking a button on them until you heard a car beep close by.

“Shall we be off, then?” he asked. “We have about twenty minutes until our reservation.”

“That is if his driving doesn’t kill us along the way,” Loki snarked, guiding you towards the car with a hand on your lower back.

“I didn’t hear you offering to drive earlier, Loki,” Thor commented, sending his brother a look that elicited a scowl in response.

“Only because my car is in the shop. Remember?”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You giggled at the pained look your boyfriend sent you, pecking his cheek as Thor made his way around to the driver’s seat. Loki offered to sit in the back, but after a few moments of deliberation, you ended up sitting in the back with Loki on the passenger side next to Thor. Your seating arrangements ended up working out perfectly, though, because you had the perfect vantage point to watch the two brothers bicker over how to get to the restaurant. Loki was doing his best to navigate, but… Well. You quickly learned that it was of no use with Thor behind the wheel.

“I said take a left at Sycamore, Thor.”

“I heard you. But there’s a shortcut between Sycamore and Highland Street.”

“No, there’s not. Have you even driven through this part of New York before?”

“You forget I used to live here, too, brother. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Oh, just like you did when we were driving through London, yes?”

“That was your fault. If you hadn’t had tried to-“

“WATCH FOR PEDESTRIANS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”

Needless to say, the twenty minute drive was eventful to say the least, and you were only mildly traumatized by the way Thor was bobbing and weaving through the thick New York traffic. Even Loki looked a bit green from it, and you’d never seen your boyfriend shaken by anything. When both of you had your feet once again on solid ground, he wrapped an arm around you once again and whispered against your hair.

“I really do apologize for all of that, darling.”

“No, please don’t. It was funny,” you assured him, pecking his cheek as Thor rounded the vehicle towards you. “Usually you’re so…unperturbed. It was nice to see you a little ruffled.”

He sent you a bemused smile, but it vanished as Thor clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps.

“Well, nothing ruffles Loki’s feathers like me. It took an entire month of convincing for him to even agree to me visiting.”

“A decision I’m regretting more and more as the minutes tick by…”

Soon enough, the three of you were sat at a table in one of the nicest restaurants you’d ever been to. Surprisingly enough, Thor had recommended the place, and after your waiter came by to take your drink orders, you rested your hand on top of Loki’s and turned towards the blonde.

“Thank you for the restaurant suggestion, Thor. How’d you hear about this place?”

“My girlfriend actually told me about it. Usually when I’m in New York on business, I just go to local food trucks or pizza parlors. But Jane said that I should take you two somewhere nice. She apologizes for not being able to make the trip, by the way. She was just as curious about you as I was, but she had an important conference to give a lecture at.”

“That sounds amazing! And no worries; I’d love to meet her next time you’re in town. What do the two of you do for a living?”

“Well, Jane is an astronomer – one of the best in the entire world, actually,” he started, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his partner. “She’s lecturing on a new design she’s invented, some sort of spectrometer. Honestly, it all goes way over my head, but that’s why she’s the genius.”

“To be fair, most things go over your head, brother.”

Thor rolled his eyes at Loki’s quip, and when you turned towards your boyfriend, you saw that he had a small smile on his face to match the mischievous glint in his eyes. You knew better than to take him seriously; anyone would be able to see how close the two were, despite their back-and-forth.

“And what about you, Thor? Loki’s never told me what you do for a living.”

“I work for Stark Industries,” he replied, taking a sip of the large pint of beer he’d ordered. “It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.”

“Not much, indeed,” Loki interjected. “You’re only in charge of the entire marketing department, after all.”

Your eyes widened at that; Stark Industries was one of the biggest, most well-known brand names in the world. From appliances to electronics to clean energy, it was right up there with Google and Disney as far as most were concerned, and to think that Thor was in such a high-ranking position, well… From the things Loki had told you about Thor, you hadn’t expected such a career for him.

“Wow. That’s…incredible. So you know Tony Stark?”

“Oh, me and Tony are great friends. But I don’t ‘run’ the marketing department by any means. Just the UK faction of it.”

“’Just’?”

After that, the waiter stopped by to take your respective orders, after which Thor settled his attention on you once more.

“So, Loki has already told me about your writing. It’s funny to think of him dating the author responsible for those books he’s obsessed over for years.”

“I’m not obse-“

“Has he asked you to sign any of his copies yet?”

He had, jokingly, at one point. But you didn’t tell Thor that.

The rest of the evening passed by without incident, and your nerves quickly evaporated as the three of you laughed and talked through the rest of the meal. Loki liked to joke at Thor’s expense, but it was clear that he held his older brother in high regard, and Thor clearly loved Loki very much. More than a few times, you caught him watching you and Loki closely, a discerning, considering look in his eyes that belayed an intelligence you hadn’t expected. He might not be as book smart or as well-spoken as his younger sibling, but Thor obviously was good when it came to reading people. Whatever he was looking at, though, it didn’t disappoint, because any time your eyes met, he would send you a small, encouraging smile that would immediately dissipate any worries you might have had.

In what felt like no time at all, the three of you were piling out of the car at your house again, and you didn’t hesitate to return Thor’s hug as he said his goodbyes.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” he assured you. “Loki’s never let me meet any of his girlfriends before, but I see now that he was just waiting for the right one to come along first.”

Taken off guard by his genuine compliment, you could only blink up at him for a few moments in surprise before your brain kicked back in.

“That’s…so kind of you to say, Thor. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

After clapping you on the shoulder, Thor said his goodbye and got back into his car, giving you and Loki some privacy. As soon as his blonde head disappeared into the vehicle, you felt two cold hands cup your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into a deep, toe-curling kiss, and you let yourself melt into your boyfriend’s embrace as he held you against him.

“That went well, I would say,” he murmured as the two of you finally parted. “He likes you, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“I like him, too,” you smiled. “Thank you for letting me meet him.”

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but you watched as uncertainty began to creep along his features, and after a few moments of considering, his mouth snapped shut once again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “I forgot what I was going to say, is all. I think driving with Thor still has my brains slightly scrambled.”

“Hm.” You didn’t believe him, not for a second, but whatever it was left your mind as soon as his lips came down onto yours once more. This kiss was slower than before, and lingering; his hands slid up over your hips to settle on your waist, and he let out a soft sigh through his nose before pulling away to set his forehead on yours.

“I should probably head home,” he whispered. “But Thor leaves out tomorrow morning. Would you like to come over tomorrow?”

“For dinner?”

“And dessert.”

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to his lips before taking a step towards your door.

“I love you, Loki. Have a good rest of your evening.”

“I will, darling. But only because I’ll be thinking of you.”

_______________

The two men drove in silence back to Loki’s house, leaving him to think back over the evening. It couldn’t have gone better, in his opinion. Thor liked you, but Thor was a bit like a golden retriever in that way. He loved most of the people he met, whereas Loki had always been more comparable to a cat; he needed to trust someone before deciding whether or not he liked them, typically, and his trust was not easily gained. In fact, there were only two people in the world he truly trusted, and now, they’d both finally made the other’s acquaintance.

The silence was finally broken when Thor parked in front of Loki’s home. As they both sat there, illuminated by the dashboard and streetlights, his elder brother turned to face him fully.

“I like her,” he announced, as though Loki couldn’t already tell that. “Does she know?”

Loki arched an eyebrow before getting out of the car and fishing his keys out of his pocket, striding up to his door as his brother scrambled to catch up with him.

“I have no idea what you could be alluding to,” he replied, opening his front door and bending down to scoop up Lovecraft, who had a habit of swiping at Thor anytime he tried to enter the house.

“Oh, I wonder,” Thor countered, shutting the door behind him before peeling off his winter coat. “I suppose I could be talking about your allergy to dogs. Or perhaps your aversion to the color orange. Or, oh, I don’t know, your habit of murdering innocents. Who knows?”

With a roll of his eyes, Loki hung his coat up beside Thor’s and started striding towards his basement stairs, trusting Thor to follow him.

“How many times must I tell you – there’s no such thing as ‘innocent’. Not in today’s world, at least.”

“Try telling that to a jury.”

“Hopefully it’ll never come to that point,” Loki sighed. He bypassed the first room of his basement, not giving a second glance to the old, miscellaneous pieces of furniture and the stacked boxes of keepsakes from childhood. No, instead he focused on the large, dusty bookshelf that covered the far wall of the room, reaching for the thick compendium of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets that hid the keyhole.

“I’ll never get used to being down here…” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically small in here; usually, his baritone could be heard from several rooms away, but his mood always took a dark turn when he was reminded of Loki’s…’proclivities’.

“You can always wait upstairs, you know,” Loki uttered without a backwards glance, fitting the small key into the lock and twisting until he heard a click.

“I know,” his brother assured him. “But I promised I’d help you, so let’s just get this over with.”

Smirking, Loki pocketed his keys and pulled the hidden door open, watching a section of the bookcase separate from the rest and turn on the hinges he’d installed so long ago. The creaking shriek they elicited made him wince, and he made a mental note to grease them before his next houseguest.

Luckily for Thor, the only beings alive or dead in Loki’s house were the two of them and Lovecraft, who pattered in after them before jumping up onto the chair in the corner. He typically didn’t allow his cat entry to this room, for obvious reasons, but he decided to leave her be as he knelt next to the detached backseat from his car that was sitting in the middle of the room.

“I’ve already replaced the stuffing; you just need to help me reupholster, and then I can do the rest.”

Thor knelt beside him with a grumble, grabbing a staplegun from his wall of power tools and torture instruments as he kept his eyes stubbornly focused on the seat.

“You know, if you used plastic tarps like any self-respecting serial killer would, you wouldn’t have to reupholster anything in the first place,” he groused. Loki knew that he had a point, and he usually did use plastic when transporting his victims.

“…This one was a bit of a last minute decision,” he finally conceded. “But I’m handling it, as you can see.”

Thor’s lips turned white as he pressed them together, pausing in his struggle to roll out more fabric.

“Loki, you can’t afford to make many last minute decisions with this sort of thing,” he muttered, all joking gone from his voice. “You promised me you’d be careful if and when you get these…urges.”

“And I am,” Loki assured his brother. “Truthfully. No one has ever suspected me of anything. Not once, and you know that.”

With a huff, Thor nodded and continued his work, his movements echoing in the concrete chamber. In the back of his mind, Loki knew that his brother was right, though. Five months ago, he never would have been so careless as to get a victim’s blood on his suede car seats. But, now that he had you in his life, all of his passions seemed to be reigniting. For one, he’d never had as much sex in his previous relationships as he was having with you. He also never felt the need to talk to someone as much as he spoke with you; he hadn’t had many girlfriends or boyfriends in the past, but the ones he’d had always complained about him being too distant, too aloof, too ‘unfeeling’. Now, though, he found himself craving you and your company at all times during the day, and his alone time was less and less precious to him as he considered how much better it would be having you by his side.

However, as those passions rose, others did as well. You and your newest novel were a constant source of inspiration to him, and his lust for blood had grown considerably. If he kept up the pace that he was at right now, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he slipped up. But he pushed that thought aside, as he always had. That was a bridge he would cross when he came upon it.

“…Will you ever tell (Y/N)?”

Thor’s question was sudden, and it made his hands still as he reached for the staple gun.

“…Are you suggesting that I do?”

“Of course not.” Thor shook his head, biting back a curse as he tried stretching a length of suede over the car seat’s frame. “At least, not right now. I think both of us know that it wouldn’t end well. But this is a…mammoth secret to keep from a significant other, Loki. And if you weren’t able to hide it from me, there will come a day when you won’t be able to hide it from her, either. Not if you’re going to keep her in your life.”

“You didn’t find out until I was twenty,” he countered. “And you only found out because I got sloppy.”

“I still knew that there was something off. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I suspected the truth for years before I caught you in the act.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose, and he didn’t know what was more surprising to him – the truth, or the fact that his brother was still able to take him off guard, even after all of the years spent together.

“…Truthfully?”

“Of course, Loki. I knew you weren’t sneaking out at night to go clubbing.” He chuckled a bit at the thought, though his laughter died the second he saw the look Loki shot him. “I saw you burning your clothes once, in the field behind our house. We were 17 at the time, I think. And I knew you wouldn’t burn them unless it were to hide…well. Bloodstains. It was the only explanation for why you decided to burn them in the middle of the night, at least.

“But I told myself that I was wrong. People do that, you know; when someone you love hurts you, or when they do something wrong, you know it. But you lie to yourself anyways.”

There was a long, heavy silence before the two brothers got back to work, one that was only broken several minutes later, when they were mostly finished.

“Loki?”

“Mm?”

Loki looked up, catching a solemn expression on Thor’s face that immediately didn’t sit right with him. For all of his sociopathic tendencies towards most people, he didn’t like to see his typically jovial sibling so serious.

“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to be you,” Thor sighed. “I’ve never fully understood how your mind works, but I know that it’s hard for you to let people in. So I’m happy for you and (Y/N). I am. But I also know that, someday, she’s going to find out. It can either be from you slipping up, or from you telling her outright. But, someday, she’s going to find out.

“I meant what I said – when you find out that someone you love is bad, and that they’ve done bad things, you lie to yourself before accepting the truth. Just…promise me that you’ll look out for when she starts lying to herself about you. Alright?”

Loki swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he thought about you, about how your face would twist into an expression of fear, of disgust, of hatred, when you finally found out about him. And his heart sank as he pictured the fragile reality you two had been living in all of a sudden crumpling into ash. He couldn’t even bear the thought of losing you, but what other choice would he have if you found him out?

“What are you suggesting I do when she finds out?” he asked, a slight waver making its way through the syllables despite his best interest.

“I’m asking what you’re prepared to do, brother. Think it over, and please, just be careful.”

____________

You woke up the next day to find a text waiting for you from an unknown number, but as soon as you opened it, a wide smile came over your face.

Loki wouldn’t give me your number, so I had to get it out of his phone while he slept. But I wanted to tell you before I fly back to London that it was lovely meeting you, and I’m very happy my brother finally found someone he loves. -Thor

The text was sent at 6:14am, so you knew that Thor was likely already on his plane, but you still tapped out a message before getting up and starting your day.

It was great to meet you, too! Have a safe trip back.

With that, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and went about your morning routine, sending Loki a quick good morning text as you ate breakfast. You were planning on finishing up the last chapter of your coroner story, and you were excited to let him read it that evening when it was done. He’d been so supportive throughout the entire writing process that you were making record time on it; even your editor was surprised at how productive you’d been lately, and you were anxious for his thoughts on the ending.

As you sat down at your computer to type it up, though, you saw that you had an email from your publisher, and your heartrate skyrocketed as you opened it up. You’d sent them the first five edited chapters a few weeks back, and even though you already had several published books, you still got excited anytime you heard back from them.

Your heart only beat faster as you read through their email, and though you’d only just sat down, you were soon leaping out of your chair once you were done. They were going to publish it! At least, they were going to as soon as you had all of the chapters. You’d been concerned that your main character wouldn’t have as much appeal as others of yours had in the past, but as it turned out, they loved Olivia.

Before you even realized what you were doing, your phone was out of your pocket and you were dialing Loki’s number, your fingers trembling in excitement. You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for him to pick up, and when he finally did, he barely had time to say hello before you were telling him the good news.

“Hello, darling-“

“LOKI I HEARD BACK FROM MY PUBLISHER!” you cried, grinning from ear to ear. “Also hello! Good morning, my love.”

Loki’s velvety laugh only added to your elation, and you quickly ran up to your bedroom to start getting dressed.

“Good morning to you, too. I take it the news was good?”

“It was amazing news! Fantastic news, actually. I was going to finish the final chapter today, but now I’m too excited to focus!”

“Well, love, I’m sure that if you want to just take today to celebrate, it won’t put you too far behind schedule.”

“Speaking of celebrating, can I bring lunch by today on your break? If work isn’t too busy for you, that is.”

“That should be fine, darling; work is actually quite slow.”

“Perfect! I’m going to start getting dressed, but text me which restaurant you’d like, and I’ll pick it up. My treat!”

“Alright, love,” he chuckled. “I’ll see you around noon, then.”

After you two said your goodbyes, you flew through getting ready and ran a few errands before lunch time came around. Loki, as usually, had told you that he was fine with anything and that you should pick the restaurant, so you swung by your favorite bistro before taking a cab to Bellevue Hospital, waving at the front desk staff as you passed by. They all recognized you at this point from your previous visits to see Loki on his break, and they all smiled and waved back as you made your way to the elevators.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned to see one of the receptionists calling you over, and so you shifted the food boxes in your hands and approached the desk.

“Dr. Odinson asked me to tell you that he’s in his office – it’s on the same floor as the morgue, but take a left instead of a right when you get out of the elevators. His is the third office on the left.”

After thanking her for letting you know, you headed down that way, shivering as you stepped out into the cold basement floor. His office had a bronze name placard on it that had Loki’s name on it, and so, after a quiet knock, you walked in to find him sitting behind a tidy desk, tapping away at his laptop furiously.

“I come bearing gifts!” you announced, causing his head to pop up from staring at his screen.

“Come in, love,” he smiled, standing up to help you with the food. “Thank you so much for lunch.”

“Don’t mention it! I wanted to celebrate the latest book, and I can think of no way I’d like to celebrate more than to spend time with the man I love. …And that was incredibly cheesy, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Loki laughed, pulling the chair in front of his desk out for you. “But it was also very sweet, and I appreciate it more than you realize.”

After setting your food down on the desk, you sat down, not realizing that Loki wasn’t going back to his side of the desk until you heard the click of a lock sliding shut behind you. Turning around, you watched as Loki stepped away from the door, approaching you with a conniving glint in his eyes.

“Did…you just lock the door?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I did,” he confirmed. He didn’t elaborate further before sinking down onto his knees in front of you, and you only caught on to his intent after he gently took the to-go cup out of your hands to rest it on his desk.

“…Am I stuck in here with you, or are you stuck in here with me?” you joked, starting to squirm in your chair as Loki’s hands came down onto your knees.

The only answer you got was a wink before his lips were on yours, and all other thoughts fizzled out as his palms started creeping up your thighs, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your jeans. His tongue tasted like coffee as it glided over your own, and a small moan escaped your lips when his teeth gently nipped at your bottom lip.

“Are you sure about this?” you whispered as he started unbuttoning your pants. “I mean… What if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, love,” he assured you, slowly dragging your zipper down before beginning to slide your jeans off. “No one can stop us from having a little celebration. As long as you can keep quiet, that is.”

You lifted your hips as he tugged your trousers down your legs, taking your panties with them, and you shivered when you felt the cold leather chair against your exposed skin. Biting your lip, you slowly nodded your head, spreading your legs wider as Loki stooped down to place open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. It was wrong; you knew that there were other doctors in the offices right next to his, and you had no idea how thick or thin the walls were. Could they hear how hard you were suddenly breathing? Would someone passing by be able to hear the low, muffled groans Loki was making as he nipped and sucked hickeys into your skin?

As if sensing your thoughts, Loki glanced upwards as he spread your thighs even further apart, his lips twitching up into a smirk before he suddenly grabbed your hips and pulled, forcing your ass closer to the edge of the chair. In the same instance, he leaned down and buried his face between your legs, his nose just barely brushing against your clit as his tongue started lapping at your entrance. Your eyes rolled back he slipped it inside of you, the vibrations from his voice like bolts of lightning as he let out a guttural growl. He’d commented before on how much he loved eating you out, and you had no reason to doubt him as he thrust his tongue deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Loki…” You kept your voice at a soft whisper, gripping his hair as his tongue started alternating between thrusting into you and tracing patterns into your clit. Your hips jolted every time he swirled his tongue over your swollen bud, and it wasn’t long until they started rocking up against his face of their own accord. If you were at home, you’d already be begging for more or moaning his name over and over again, but now you were acutely conscious of every sound the two of you were making.

The panting of your breath and the obscene, slick noise of his tongue moving against you seemed to echo in the small room. With every shift of your hips, the chair you were in creaked, and you were soon fighting not to move too much for fear that it would be too loud. You were biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly tasted blood, but the pleasure Loki was bringing you overshadowed any pain or discomfort.

Just as you felt the edge of your orgasm starting to approach, though, he was pulling away, licking his lips and watching your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to guide him back with the hands you had locked in his hair.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck, I was getting close-“

“Don’t worry, love,” he interrupted, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m far from through with you.”

And that was all the warning you got before he scooped you up, setting you down onto his desk before you could do anything but let out a surprised gasp. At some point while he was eating you out, he must have taken his cock out of his pants, and now he was pushing you to lay on your back as he lined up with your entrance.

You gripped the edge of his desk so hard that your knuckles turned pale, but you still weren’t fully prepared for him to abruptly shove his cock inside of you, so hard that it pushed the air out of your lungs and pried a sharp moan from your lips. His hand came down over your mouth at its sound, and he leaned over you until your face was only inches from his.

“You have to stay quiet,” he panted, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting back into you. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You hurriedly shook your head no, and he nodded before pulling his hand away and sliding it between your bodies. You nearly moaned again once his fingertips found your clit, though, and you pressed your own hand to your mouth as he began playing with it in time with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he purred, his own voice fighting back a moan as he started a fast rhythm. “Of course… Maybe you do want us to get caught.”

He punctuated his statement with a hard buck of his hips, and you pressed the back of your hand even harder to your lips as it startled another cry out you. The desk was beginning to creak in time with his movements, and you knew that anyone who walked by outside would be able to hear it. You just hoped that they couldn’t also hear Loki’s raspy breathing, or the way his balls were smacking against your ass with every thrust forward.

“Maybe you do want someone to hear me fucking you. Is that it?” he continued, his voice not once rising above a low growl. “Do you want them all to know that you’re mine? That you’re letting me use you, fuck you, right here in my office? Anyone with a key could get in, love. A janitor, another doctor… Anyone could come in and see what a good little slut you’re being for me. And you love that, don’t you?”

His thumb was moving faster and faster against your clit, and you were rapidly approaching your orgasm; you couldn’t remember the last time a partner had brought you so close so quickly. This was so different from how Loki usually was; typically, he was gentle with you, treating you like you would shatter if he were to grip you too tightly or kiss you too hard. But there were times, you’d found, when something else would peak through the cracks; some nights, his hand found its way around your throat, or his voice dropped into something predatory, threatening.

This was one of those times, evidently. And it always made something else rise up within you – the desire to submit, to bend to him completely, to let him have you and use you however he wanted. And so you did.

With a long, loud moan, you felt yourself cumming around his cock, so hard that it made your eyes roll back and your back arch up off of the desk, bending at an almost unnatural angle as your cunt clenched around him. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard him let out a muffled curse, and his thrusts began getting even harder, even faster, and through it all you laid back and took it. Your body was limp and pliable from your orgasm, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he took what he wanted from it.

It wasn’t long, though, until he pulled out, stroking his cock a few more times before you felt his cum against your thighs and belly, staining your shirt with his release as he leaned heavily over you, catching his breath. After letting out a deep, heavy sigh, he leaned over, kissing you gently before resting his head on your chest.

“…Wow,” you breathed, settling one of your hands on the back of his head as your other arm drew him closer.

“I agree with that assessment,” he murmured, pressing a kiss over your heart before lazily turning towards you. “You did say you wanted to celebrate, though.”

A giggle escaped your lips at that, and he smiled softly before kissing you once again and slowly drawing himself up to full height.

“I’m…sorry, if I was too rough,” he began, but you sat up and pressed a finger to his lips, shaking your head.

“I liked it. Loki, I know you’d never hurt me,” you assured him. “And I know you don’t really mean it when you do things like call me a slut.”

“Good,” he nodded, his eyes skating over your face. “Because I don’t. And I would never, ever, hurt you.”

“Then don’t apologize for getting a little rough,” you countered, pecking his cheek before starting to stand on wobbly legs. “Because you better believe I enjoyed it.”

“Mm. I could tell.”

You swatted playfully at his arm before straightening your jeans and grabbing a tissue from his desk, dabbing at the cum he’d left on your shirt before giving up on the task entirely and deciding to just keep your coat buttoned up on the ride home.

“…(Y/N)?”

You turned to find Loki staring at you, having already smoothed his appearance back to its usual unrumpled state. The look in his eyes gave you pause, though – it was the same look that he’d had the night before, when he’d looked like he had something to tell you before deciding against it. Unbidden, fear suddenly swept over you, and you had the worst feeling that he was going to break things off, that he was going to tell you that he’d rushed into things and that he didn’t feel the same way as you.

Gulping, you stepped closer, fighting against the trembling in your hands as he took them between his, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before looking up at you once more.

“I’ve…been doing a lot of thinking, and Thor’s visit yesterday made me realize something,” he began.

“I haven’t ever felt this way about anyone before. And, if I’m being honest, sometimes it terrifies me. There are… There are things about me that I haven’t told anyone besides Thor, and even then, there are things he still doesn’t know.

“I came to the realization last night, though, that I want you to know everything about me. I want you to accept me, fully, as I’ve accepted you. And even if I’m not ready to share it all with you, I know that I want us to grow to that point together. I want you to be mine, yes, but I want to be yours, too. Wholly and completely.”

He took a deep breath, then, and your eyes grew wide as he reached into his pocket, taking out a small box and handing it to you.

“I had this made earlier today, after I dropped Thor off at the airport. And I realize that, yes, this is rushing things a bit, and I want you to know that it’s alright if you need to say no or if you need to think it over. But I’m ready to take the next step, whenever you are.”

Feeling as if time was suddenly moving in slow motion, you opened the box, tearing your eyes away from Loki just long enough to look down…

…and see a key waiting for you.

Immediately, your heart soared, and you looked up to see a tiny, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Will you move in with me, my love?”

And even though, yes, it was probably too soon, even though you’d only known Loki for four months, even though all of the logic inside of you was screaming against it, you didn’t hesitate before answering him.

“Yes!”

____________

A/N: WOW it took forever to write this. I am so sorry! 2020 has really had its way with me, as it has with all of us, and I can’t apologize enough for letting my writing get so far behind. THANK YOU to anyone and everyone reading this, though. I hope you all are having a safe holiday season, and please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever wanna talk! You guys are the best readers in the world, and I appreciate every single one of you!

#beauty in the blood #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki imagine #loki fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #serial killer #serial killer!loki #serial killer au #reader insert

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years

Text

To Make A Calming Draught • J.P

Summary: “You have my heart.” (Bolded)

Warnings: potions, use of animal parts for potions, brief mention of blood?

Word Count: 899

A.N: Um, don’t actually look up the ingredients for a Calming Draught because I got two conflicting takes and then decided to have some creative liberty so....oops? I also call this fluff but it’s just kinda amusing to me

****

“Lupin and Evans.”

“McKinnon and Snape.”

“Black and Meadowes.”

“Potter and (Y/Ln).”

You audibly groan and drop your head onto the cool wood of your desk, successfully interrupting Slughorn’s ramble.

“No complaints, Miss (Y/Ln). Look on the bright side, he will only be your partner for a month.” Slughorn cheerfully informs you, blissfully unaware of how much pain his decision has brought you.

You purposely bang your head on the table once, the dull thunk causing your nearby housemates to erupt into snickers.

“Literally stop complaining, I’m partnered with Snape. For a month.” Marlene hisses from the seat next to you.

“Guess we’ll both have to suffer.” You sigh, picking your head up and rubbing the spot of your forehead that made contact with the desk.

“Everyone find your partner and a table and open to Calming Draughts in your textbook. You may begin.” Slughorn announces.

Reluctantly, you rise from your seat and drag yourself over to the spot Potter and Black had already claimed as their own.

Potter leans against the table, his uniform prim and proper, his dark curls deliberately placed in organized chaos.

His whole being infuriated you.

With his glasses always slightly askew so he has an excuse to repeatedly take them off to readjust, running a hand through his hair in the process to attempt to look cooler.

If anyone asks you, though, it just makes him look more like a prick.

When you get close enough, Potter’s hazel eyes run over your figure. You roll your own, praying to Merlin that for once, the Gryffindor will keep his mouth shut.

“It seems fate brought us together, (Y/Ln).” He flirtatiously greets.

Thanks for nothing, Merlin.

“No, I just think Slughorn is still miffed about the Fungiface Potion I slipped in his goblet during dinner last week, and this is my punishment.” You retort blandly, dropping your things on the table in front of you.

“Alright, Dorcas.” You greet your friend standing across from you.

“Hey (Y/n).” She smiles, flipping through the pages of the textbook. “Sirius, why don’t you get the ingredients?” Dorcas continues.

You glance down at the ingredient list.

1 L water

60 mL syrup of hellebore

3 sprigs lavender

15 mL salamander blood

30 mL essence of belladonna

1 crocodile heart

“Dear—“

You hold up a hand, cutting him off.

“Don’t call me dear, Potter. And yes, I’ll grab the ingredients.”

You stalk off to the storeroom, Potter calling out his thanks loud enough for the whole class to overhear.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you join Marlene in the supply closet, Black not far behind.

“He’s driving me mental!” She whisper-shouts, tying her platinum blonde hair in a bun. “The only time he speaks to me is when he critiques my every move and when he’s not focused on that, he’s creepily ogling Lily!” Marlene throws one hand in the air in exasperation before angrily grabbing a vial of salamander blood.

“Relax, Marls, you’re guaranteed an O with that tosser.” Black points out, blindly taking containers off of the shelves.

You nod in agreement. “At least you’re not partnered with someone who thinks Calming Draughts and Draughts of Peace are the same potion.”

Black and Marlene freeze, looking at you in shock. “They’re not?” They ask together.

“I’m surrounded by bloody idiots.” You mutter in irritation.

You grab your jars and vials and make your way back to your cauldron. And Potter, who shockingly hasn’t caused anything to explode yet.

But the period isn’t over.

You do your best to ignore Potter and Black, instead trying to focus on making basically the entire potion yourself while the two boys goof off.

Eventually, you’re staring at a pale orange concoction. You look around for the next ingredient before spotting it in Potter’s hand.

“You’ve got my heart, Potter.” You interrupt their riveting conversation about Mulciber’s newly charmed lime green hair.

“You hear that, Sirius?” Potter dramatically swoons. “I’ve got (Y/Ln)’s heart!” His smirk widens significantly.

Dorcas snorts across from you, still stirring her potion.

Black reaches across, hand held up high, which Potter cheerfully slaps. “Alright, Prongs! Knew it’d happen some day!”

“My crocodile heart, dumb arse.” You clarify, motioning to the jar still grasped tightly in his hand like a Quaffle.

“Crocodile—?” His hazel eyes widen, dropping to the mysteriously dark red jar.

“Yeah, y’know, for our potion?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Did you not read over the brew?”

“James doesn’t know how to read, (Y/n), we all know that.” Dorcas teases.

“I do know how to read, Dorcas, piss off.” Potter snarks benevolently. “I just trust (Y/Ln) here to not screw up the potion.”

He twists open the jar, taking a whiff before recoiling violently, coughing.

“Oh how kind of you.” You roughly yank the jar out of his hands, chuckling at the look of disgust that overtakes his features.

“It says here that the heart shouldn’t be exposed to open air for a long period before use—“ Dorcas starts.

However, before she’s able to finish, you drop the heart in the concoction, just like the instructions tell you.

And then the explosion happens.

Vibrant blue sparks fly up, buzzing beneath your nose and catching on your eyebrows. Intense heat surrounds your face and the distinct smell of burning overpowers your senses, making your eyes water.

“Potter!” You shriek, horrified.

“Ah, shit.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #the marauders x reader #the marauders

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ellstersmash · 3 years

Text

Not to Keep

Fandom: Mass Effect (Original Trilogy) Pairing: Kaidan x f!Shepard Rating: T for Teen (cw for alcohol use) Words: 2.7k [Read on Ao3]

shep and kaidan go undercover, set early in me1. this was originally a prompt for "fake relationship" from Leather & Lace Romance Week, but then I waited 3.5 years to finish it 🥀

It all seemed so simple. Infiltrate a wedding, extract intel on Benezia, use that to find Saren.

Easy-peasy.

Until Shepard shows up in the shuttle bay looking like that. They've only been working together for a couple of months, and Kaidan has seen her covered in blood spatter, dripping sweat post-PT—hell, even bare naked in a hotel room. But it’s safe to say he never thought he'd see her like this. Full makeup, soft curls, a long red dress that shouldn't fit anyone that perfectly, and, dangling from two fingers, a pair of classy black heels.

Kaidan swallows hard and gives her a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

“Alenko.” He shifts on his feet as her eyes travel the length of his body and back up, her cool stare giving nothing away. “You clean up nice.”

“Ah, thanks. And you look—”

“Oh, I'm dressed to kill.” Lips the same shade as her dress curve into a grin. “Figuratively, for once.”

Kaidan chokes and laughs, caught off guard in a mixture of nerves and surprise. “Was that a joke, Commander?”

Her expression narrows into a pinched, self-deprecating smirk. “If you have to ask, then no. And I definitely haven't been thinking about it since Williams zipped this damn thing up.”

The thought of his CO, this formidable woman, giggling to herself over a stupid joke for an hour is... well, it’s uncharacteristically cute. Kaidan rolls it around in his head for an indulgent minute, trying on the fit before letting the image go.

Just one more thing to jam into that Never Gonna Happen file.

“Right,” she says, back to business. “Let’s get this over with.”

They board the shuttle for the short trip to the venue, and go over the mission brief one final time: intel extraction remains their highest priority—one of their hosts, Polona T’Shan, was rumored to have a close business connection with the matriarch; protecting their cover is important, but heavy security is not expected; their false identity profiles should be enough to get them in the door, and from there the two of them will be responsible for avoiding unwanted attention by appearing as a couple.

Kaidan knows his own limits. He’s a soldier, not an actor. This pretending to be someone else, this lie, it isn't part of his training and it sure as hell isn't part of who he is. But if Shepard’s as nervous as he is, she isn't showing it.

She’s looking at him again, in that intense all-in way she sometimes does. Before her, he had never met someone who was aware of—and pursued—what they wanted with such confidence, such dogged determination, and to have that kind of focus set on him even for just a moment is… terrifying. In a good way, he thinks. It makes him feel warm and cold at the same time. It also makes him want to stare right back, but that way lies only trouble, and none of them need another helping. Not right now.

Kaidan leans back and rests his head on the cool, if slightly unsteady, inner shuttle wall as Shepard drums a rhythmless pattern into the space between their seats.

---

Kyra drains her glass.

As it turns out, Asari weddings aren't all that different from the few human ones she’s attended. Though this reception is a far more extravagant affair than she’s used to: four days of mingling and games and dancing and drinking and food. Really not her cup of tea.

And apparently not Alenko’s, either.

He’d made a beeline for the bar as soon as they’d entered, and returned with an easier stride and a glass full of some bubbling neon sugary shit for her. She’d have preferred something stronger, of course, but they do have a mission to complete. If they can manage to get Polona alone for a moment.

She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and feels him stiffen, then relax. Quick and conscious. He’s nervous, out of place, on edge, and then completely calm and collected.

No doubt in her mind he was the right pick for this one.

The thought settles her stomach, and just in time. Two asari approach, their hands extended in enthusiastic welcome.

“Greetings!” one of them says, with a voice smooth and sweet as wildflower honey. “Oh, what a lovely pair you two make. Right out of the vids, could be. This one’s even better looking up close, don’t you think so, Liria?” The asari takes Alenko’s hand, sensual and deliberate, then turns her attention to Kyra. “And goddess, that dress is stunning; really, sweetie, it fits you like a glove. You”—she drags one finger down Alenko’s lapel—“are a lucky man, I hope you know.”

Eyes wide, he clears his throat and coughs, then regains his composure with a brief glance in Kyra’s direction.

The second asari offers an apologetic look to each of them in turn. “Rialla, darling, slow down or you’ll scare them off.”

“They certainly look sturdy enough.”

“I am so sorry. She’s had quite a bit to drink, I’m afraid. Never could pace herself at a wedding.” She laughs. “My name is Liria, and my companion’s name is Rialla, and ever since we saw you walk in, we have just been itching to get to know you.”

Kyra plasters what she hopes is a warm smile on her face, mentally pulling up her cover identity as reference. “Emily, and I’m delighted to meet you both. This is John, my um—”

“Her very lucky partner.”

The two matriarchs titter and tease him, both in turn, and once again he’s in control. Kyra can’t help but be impressed by how effortlessly he charms them. And she’s far from immune. It’s her mission, yet she is all too prepared to be led around the room by that firm hand at the small of her back.

Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko: respected Alliance Marine, powerful L2 biotic, all-around stand-up guy, and—apparently—a smooth son-of-a-bitch. It’s an unexpected feature for someone so soft-spoken and unpretentious. Like he has a hidden switch somewhere.

Or a button.

Press For Instant Charisma.

She briefly entertains the idea of hunting for it, then aborts the thought with a twist of her lips and tunes back in to the conversation.

---

The lie is getting easier. Shepard is tucked under Kaidan’s arm, and he’s almost comfortable.

Their new friends are exactly the right sort. Nosy, talkative, well into their cups, and connected. Old friends of their mark, both of them, and Liria has history with Benezia herself. Shepard spins her tale about a chance meeting with the missing matriarch at a charity benefit and their tapering correspondence, followed by a rumor igniting hope for reconnection. And they eat it right up.

All he has to do is act natural and help Shepard keep them talking.

“Well, you know Polona wasn’t only Benezia’s lawyer.” Liria leans in close, her voice not quite as hushed as she probably intended. “They were involved, some centuries back. Quite the scandal at the time, but then Benezia always had... selfish tendencies. Now, I’m not sure why they parted ways, or how serious it was, but—”

Not to be outdone, Rialla’s hands flutter for attention as she pipes in. “It must be more than a passing fling from two hundred years ago, though, because I heard that her Turian lover—or, well, husband now—almost called off this very wedding!”

“Really?” Shepard asks. What’s supposed to be idle curiosity is bordering on serious interest, her voice taking on a firm, interrogative quality to match her narrowed gaze, but a brush of his thumb on her shoulder and she reigns it in. Loosens up with a tilt of her head and a hand to his thigh that has him tensing up instead.

“Oh, yes,” Rialla says. “It was all very tenuous there for a while. And to think, then the four of us would never have met!”

Kaidan raises his glass with a smile as genuine as he can muster. “A tragic loss for us, to be sure.”

With a deep, warm smile, Rialla fans her face and leans in close to Shepard, but speaks for the whole table to hear. “Do let me know when you're finished with him, would you, dear? I think I may be quite in love.”

He's fine until Shepard smirks, then he's far too warm. Suffocating.

He tugs at his collar. “You think their, uh, conflict had something to do with Polona and Benezia’s involvement?”

“I seriously doubt it,” Liria says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That was ages ago, not yesterday. Beni’s still pining after Aeth—”

Rialla laughs. “Oh, it’s Beni, now? I had no idea you were such intimate friends!”

“I’m 800 years old, my dear.” Liria scoffs. “I have quite a few friends you don’t know about.”

“Is that supposed to make me jealous?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly!”

“Silly? Goddess, must you always be so patronizing?”

“Must you always twist my words?”

“Oh, here we go!”

The situation spirals into chaos before either he or Shepard can recover it, and she stands up from the table, pulling at his elbow.

“I love this song,” she mutters pointedly, and leads him to the dance floor. It’s a slow number, thank god. He’s not nearly drunk enough to dance to something with a beat.

They sway slowly, and she presses close, his neck prickling underneath her palm. His own hands settle on her waist, then more naturally to her hips.

“Damn,” she whispers. “Damn.”

“I know. But hey, we’ve got the rest of the night. And tomorrow night. And the next night. And—”

“The next night, I know.” She groans and drops her head to his shoulder.

Kaidan smiles into her hair.

---

The night is officially over. The band is still playing, but most of the guests are gone, and despite making a number of connections, they’ve learned nothing more about Benezia's whereabouts.

They have, however, made decent use of the open bar.

Kyra downs the last of her champagne and orders a cocktail, dealer's choice. It arrives glowing and smoking and she takes the skyward trajectory of Alenko’s brows as a personal challenge not to hesitate.

A potent combination of peppermint and blueberries and battery acid hits the back of her throat and makes her head swim on contact.

Next to her, Alenko is nursing his third.

“How’s your drink?” he asks.

“Surprising.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“Um… Yes.” She clinks her fingernail against his glass. “How’s your whiskey?”

He frowns and takes a sip. “This is not whiskey.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur.”

“No, I mean it is literally not whiskey. Didn’t have it, I guess.” He drinks again. “It’s weird, right? Walk into any bar on Earth and they’ll have a dozen to pick from, but soon as you take off…”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “No burgers. No guac. No ice cream.”

The low chuckle he gives is a sound she’d like to hear again. And again, and again, and—

“When you put it like that, this spacer life is a real sorry existence.”

Kyra nods and wonders what he misses most from home. Or who. But that is none of her business, so she empties her glass and tips the bartender in preparation to leave.

“Sorry tonight was a bust, Shepard.”

“It wasn’t a total loss. Decent food, free booze.” She rests her chin on one closed fist. “Good company.”

“By that, I assume you mean our new asari friends.”

“Sure.”

Holding his gaze is harder than it should be. He cradles his nearly-empty glass and taps his fingers in sequence. Up and down, like a zipper.

At last, he looks away. “I was going to say ‘beautiful,’ by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, before we left. I was going to tell you how incredible you looked, but then you interrupted me, and I never really got the chance to say it so I figured I might as well say it now.”

Warmth rises in her belly and she rides it like a wave, unscathed and unchanged on the other side. She turns to face him, wriggling in the seat in preparation like he’s about to try and upend her. “All right, Alenko. Hit me. I’m ready.”

He gives a huff of nervous laughter, one hand going straight to the back of his neck. “Well, uh... that was pretty much it.”

“That’s it? You waited all night to tell me that you were going to tell me I looked beautiful, but didn’t?”

His lips roll together, and he cedes the point with a tilt of his head, then meets her eyes again before his take a slow, uncertain wander around the rest of her features.

“Shepard,” he says when he makes it back, and it’s a name so overused it may as well be a title—but not spoken like that. Low and drawn out and a little bit reverent, it becomes almost intimate for the first time in years and she can't help but wonder how her first might sound.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

Oh. Oh no. Kyra knows she should say thank you, and tell him to finish his drink so they can get out of here, but this next wave won’t subside and the air won’t reach her lungs and all she can do is stare at him.

“I mean, not just tonight, but especially—” he continues, visibly flustered by her silence. “You know, the dress and the lips—ah, make-up! And, and the hair and everything, it’s just very, um, tasteful, and… Um.” He clears his throat and pushes his drink away by inches, folding his hands tight together. "Feel free to stop me anytime.”

Ah. There. That’s the Alenko she knows and can handle.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” she says, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god kept her voice from breaking.

The smile they exchange is soft and charged and it smooths him over. His eyes are brown. Kyra knew that already, but clinically. On paper. Hair: black. Eyes: brown. Year of birth: 2151.

She didn’t know it like this, tangibly, all wrapped up and swept away in a simple fact.

This time she’s the one to give in. “You know, you should really keep that button pressed, Alenko.”

“What?”

“The charisma button.” She jerks her head toward the door, grabs his hand for the sake of anyone who might still be awake and sober enough to notice, and leads him out. “Push it. More.”

“I— what?”

Kyra chuckles to herself and steps into the elevator. “Forget it.”

The doors close once she chooses a floor and she regrets taking his hand because now she has to let go.

Kiss me. Come on, Alenko. Quick, before we go back. She can’t think it any louder, can’t make it any clearer without crossing a line. Be better if he does it, but he won’t. She knows he wants to just like she knows he never will, because he’s a good soldier and a good soldier doesn’t fuck with the chain of command. Not without a compelling reason, at least, and she can’t give him one.

Their floor lights up and reality pours in. He follows her across the dock, at a distance now that no one who would care might be watching.

Kyra takes a sharp, deep breath. Three more nights of this—unless they can get their intel sooner. Three more nights of flirting and dancing and soft touches all for show and not to keep. Maybe she should have brought Williams after all. Or Garrus. Or anyone else.

Distracted, she nearly trips getting into the shuttle, and somehow he’s right there, a broad hand on her waist to steady her.

A nod and he detaches. Steps back. “Ma’am.”

Ma’am. But he is a terrible liar, and she’s never been good at a long con.

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #mass effect fic #kaidan alenko #shenko #alcohol #ellster writes #kyra x kaidan #be gentle this is a collaboration with past me #one of us is a much better writer #no i wont tell you which #oh my god wrangling all these rogue italic spaces from before i learned how to format for ao3 is going to send me into a fit of rage #s/o to the 5 story subscribers stubborn enough to hang on

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peninkwrites · 3 years

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love is violence - ch 6 of ?

There is more to this life than reconciliation. It still helps.

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 5

Ponk had reconciled with Niki. They’re proud of that, and how they’ve helped her with her city. They’ve reconciled– or rather are actively reconciling– with Foolish. There are others, surely, that were hurt by the Red Banquet, but Ponk thinks they’ve covered their basis at least.

There’s someone else from the Red Banquet they need to talk to, maybe even for reconciliation, but not to atone. Ponk just wants answers, or something else they can’t quite recognize.

For the first time in a long time, Purpled is hard for them to find. First they go to his farmhouse, rowing through the ominous black teeth of the skull carved into the wall with difficulty alone, but the cavern is empty, and as is every hidden tunnel and room and residence held within.

Ponk knew the UFO had been destroyed. It was hard to miss, but it was the only other place they could think to go. So they leave the cave, resigned, and walk across an empty server. They stand underneath the remains of the pilliar up to it, but there is quite simply nothing. They’re not going to find their missing friend in an empty sky.

“What are you doing here?”

“Holy shit, man!” Ponk jumps, clutching their racing heart. “You– You can’t sneak up on someone like that! Stupid,” Ponk punches their friend’s arm lightly.

Purpled rolls his eyes, unphased. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. You gonna answer my question?”

“What?”

“What’re you doing here?” Purpled eyes them skeptically. “Standing under… or I guess not, huh?” Purpled stares at that empty hole in the sky with something almost like disinterest. Ponk knows him better. He’s bitter.

“I was looking for you, actually,” Ponk shifts from foot to foot.

“You were?” Purpled looks back at them cautiously.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in a while, man. What’ve you been doing?” Ponk begins to walk down the prime path, Purpled walking beside them. It’s always easier to walk and talk.

“Nothing. Working jobs. You know how it goes,” Purpled shrugs.

“What happened to your spaceship?” Ponk nods back behind them.

Purpled’s eyes darken. “Same things that happen to all the decent builds on this server. Got blown up.”

“Blown up?” Ponk shakes their head. It makes logical sense, sure, but still. That makes it so… deliberate. “How?”

“TNT.”

“Yeah– Yeah I figured, I meant more like who?” Ponk stops outside the community house, turning back to face him.

Purpled keeps walking past them, through the community house and up the path towards the main portal. “Does it really matter? It’s done.”

“Does it– Yeah, it still matters! That was yours, Purpled, of course it should matter,” Ponk quickens their pace to catch up.

Purpled looks back at them, almost affronted by their genuine concern. “What do you want, Ponk?”

“I don’t– I don’t want anything. This isn’t about a job,” Ponk frowns.

“Then why are you wasting my time?”

Purpled had always been aloof and unfriendly, but Ponk had always considered them to be on decent terms. More than this at least.

“What is with you, man? I am here as your friend. Not your business partner,” Ponk reaches out and grabs his sleeve, stopping him from charging ahead toward the portal without a second glance.

Purpled stares at their hand on him. He doesn’t yank away, but he doesn’t seem pleased either. “As a friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, as a friend,” Ponk lets go. “I know the last time I saw you, things weren’t– They weren’t exactly friendly.”

Purpled looks puzzled. “What do you mean? When was that?”

“Uh, the Red Banquet. You came charging in with Technoblade and a ton of dogs?” Ponk thought they understood Purpled, to some extent, but it’s like Purpled has put up some wall, some line had been crossed that he won’t let anyone cross ever again.

“Oh– You mean that?” Purpled scoffs. “That’s what all this is about? Ponk, I thought you knew better than to take business personally.”

“Business–” Ponk blusters, “that’s what you’re thinking of all this shit as? Just business? You were ready to attack me!”

“Not you, Ponk,” Purpled says this more intently. “I was paid to help put a stop to whatever sacrificial cult stuff you were doing.”

Ponk sighs. “I’m not pretending I was in the right, but shouldn’t we at least talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about?” Purpled looks so irritated, but not in the way Ponk might have hoped for. “Look, it was a job. Not like it meant anything. You had your loyalties, and I had to earn my pay. I’m not mad about us being on opposite teams, okay?”

“Well, I am! Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t be, I wasn’t there for the right reasons either, but I hate that it’s like– I’m not your middle man anymore! You and whatever you’ve got going on with Quackity, what happened to you running stuff through me, eh?”

“Ponk,” Purpled sighs. “You were never my middle man. You were a helpful connection, but you didn’t really think you were part of my business, did you? I work alone. And thank you for what you’ve done, I mean that, but don’t pretend like I needed you.”

Ponk freezes, all of their indignation dying and traded for a weaker hurt. Their chest aches. “That’s– That’s cold, man. That’s cold. Even for you.”

“Then maybe you’ve just forgotten what I’m like,” Purpled steps back, and maybe he sounds almost defensive. “We’re not enemies, Ponk. But you don’t need to make it any more than that. I have other arrangements and– and goals. You don’t need to be involved.” When he walks away this time Ponk doesn’t stop him. “Come by Las Nevadas sometime. We’ll… talk business.”

Ponk doesn’t bother replying as their old friend disappears through the portal.

Ponk feels worse.

“He’s just… He’s clearly going through something. And– And I won’t hold it against him,” Ponk says to the empty prime path. There is no reply.

Ponk shouldn’t do this. They shouldn’t go to Sam for help. They have no real reason to, but it’s been weeks since they’d last spoken, since Sam had last rendered them afraid, and they don’t want that last interaction to be the one that lingers. They can talk to Sam. They know how weak he is and that matters.

It has to.

They need help building a bridge. It’s a simple thing. Sam is a good builder. Another simple thing.

“Are you good at building bridges, Sam? I know you’re good at burning them.”

Simple.

Is it better or worse if Sam follows them? He follows them, loyal as a fucking dog, all the way out to their valley where they’ve tried to build something again. Something that won’t be broken or burned. They’d been burned before. They try anyway.

So is it better or worse when Sam trails after them and replies to every jab without hesitation or guilt or hatred? Ponk knows they’re being both too harsh and too kind. Too kind for the man who had broken them to pieces. Too harsh for the man they loved.

(Too harsh for the man who had broken them to pieces. Too kind for the man they loved.)

Ponk keeps on getting dragged in. Although they don’t know if that’s fair of them when they’re the one who reached out to Sam first this time, but they can’t stop. They can’t stop talking to him, even when his retorts grow more bitter and sharp.

Ponk admits something they shouldn’t. They offer something they don’t have. Rather something they want. “And there’s a mental mountain we need to get over as well, but we can’t get through that yet, alright? I still need time.” They shouldn’t have said that. They shouldn’t have implied there was a doorway that let Sam back into their life. Even if it’s true. Ponk would welcome Sam back into their arms– well, arm– if he only grew up a little. Maybe Sam doesn’t deserve to know that. He can’t view this as one more project to engineer a solution to. Not that he’s even trying.

Ponk still lets him follow, though. Out to a place they had begun to build to feel safe away from it all. Sam is the one they need to feel safe from. They still guide him there, all but throwing that sense of peace at his feet, knowing his propensity to crush what falls before him. It’s the days of distance, it’s Sam greeting them so adoringly– they don’t forget, they cannot forget– but how can they turn off the warmth in their chest? They still love him.

That won’t stop the hurt from bleeding through. When Sam has the audacity to act as if everything is normal. Sam never approaches the confrontation first. Ponk feels like they’re in control. Or at least they can cling to that notion to some extent as they try to keep Sam at a distance. Sam is passive, he responds to what they do, he does not start a confrontation. But it’s not like Sam has suddenly learned mercy.

“You know what I would’ve said it with both my hands above my head but I can’t, I can’t for some reason, Sam!” Ponk wants a reaction. They want Sam to be the monster they remember.

It’s not enough when Sam speaks up, in that sulking, softer tone of resentment, “well, that’s kind of on you. I told you to give them to me and you wouldn’t.”

Vile.

“Okay, okay, alright, play the moral high ground!” Ponk snaps, like Sam’s words are mere irritation and not salt in an open wound. They feel Sam’s blame like a hole in their chest. How can he be this thick?! Sam still doesn’t realize that it was never about the keycards. It had never been something Ponk could just give up because giving up the keycards would’ve been the same as giving up on Sam, on giving up on the two of them being together, as they should be.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore. Now there’s only what they shouldn’t be and what they are anyway.

Sam brushes through the wheat Ponk had cultivated in the valley. “No, not really the moral high ground. I’m just trying to remind you there was a reason.”

He’s cruel, just like Ponk wants to believe he is, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to make them let go of him or stop following where he leads. Because it’s not just that Sam still follows them. That would be too simple, too easy. It’s that Ponk, in spite of every warning ringing through their ears, follows Sam right back.

Yet after everything, Sam still thinks he was justified. After everything, Sam still believes he did what was for the best when he flooded the cell with poison and watched them burn, and he just kept watching, he just stared while they screamed but they never begged, they only asked why. They never begged him to stop not until the end. not until they couldn’t bear it anymore and finally Sam broke through the glass, and finally he held Ponk again, he held them down and raised the shears and–

Ponk had been stepping closer. They’re too close now. Dangerously close. The last time they had been this close, Sam had been keeping their arms pinned down so he could begin sawing through one. Phantom pain twists inside of them and it’s suddenly hard to find a familiar intimacy romantic. Ponk steps back. The pain does not lessen, it lingers in what’s left of their arm and in the hole in their chest. They wish it were only anger bottled and brewing inside of them. Ponk falls prey to their own heart yet again.

“Sam,” Ponk begins. “Sam.” They don’t know how to fix something that should remain broken.

“What?” Sam sounds so calm. He was not privy to the violent reminders lurking behind Ponk’s eyes. He doesn’t know that when they look at him they want to flinch as much as they want to hug him. Sam just waits, utterly unashamed. A child who broke a toy that was never his to break.

Ponk’s anger wanes. They don’t hate Sam. They do pity him. How far he has fallen. Violence is no longer a filthy thing to him, he’s so at home in the blood he’s forgotten what it’s like to be clean. Ponk is not so disillusioned as to think they are without blood on their hands or callous actions in their past, but they know that now. They know and they know they’re getting better too. Sam is just stuck. How can they not pity him?

They still wish it were only pity. The anger alongside it, the fear, all of it would be easier to bear if they didn’t still want their Sam. Ponk is not ashamed of their feelings. They didn’t deserve what happened to them any more than Sam deserves their kindness now, but they will offer it anyway.

“Just so you know, just so you know. You can come to me after everything.” There is not an ounce of forgiveness there, nor of trust, but there is still loyalty and love and maybe the bitter violence of devotion. They mean it. Every word. And they think Sam knows they mean it to from the way he barrels past them, no longer looking them in the eye. Ponk follows him, as they always have. “I will still support you, Sam. You’ll have a place to stay, because all the wrong you’ve done is going to catch up behind you, you know?”

“I… I haven’t really done anything wrong.”

Sam makes it so hard for them to be kind. It’s not hatred, it still isn’t hatred, but Ponk is so tired of the monster walking around in their Sammy’s body. “Haven’t you? Haven’t you?!”

Sam must be hateful. He must want to still hurt them, and this time he doesn’t use shears. “No, I think I’m a good guy.”

Ponk can’t tell if they believe him or not. They don’t know if Sam believes it or not either. Sam has grown cruel in far too many ways. So Ponk keeps trying. What they would give for an ounce of remorse. They’d give an arm for remorse. “You think you’re a good person?”

Sam turns back to face them, those dark eyes hold so much horrible conviction. He tears them apart yet again and he feels nothing. “I don’t know, you don’t think I’m a good person?”

Ponk thinks they know what he wants. He wants them to fight back, to push him away, to renounce him wholly and completely as is their right. Ponk won’t. They won’t be dishonest, not after all of this. Honesty is an extension of fairness, and Ponk will offer that mercy to Sam even as he never did the same. They won’t lie to him with the promise of hatred or of love, but something agonizingly resting in the middle. “My opinions are biased.”

Ponk’s project on Foolish’s land is mostly an excuse to spend more time with him. That’s the best path to reconciliation to them, for Foolish to come poking his nose in things, ask Ponk about their project, and Ponk to easily reply.

“Hey, hey Ponk! I finished more of the interior, wanna come see?” Foolish shouts up to them.

“Yeah! Yeah, sure, I’ll be right down!” Ponk sets aside the concrete powder and rejoins Foolish on the ground. “More of the interior on what?”

“The main pyramid! I’ve got statues in there and stuff, the whole nine yards!” Foolish walks ahead and too quick a pace on much taller legs, pausing for Ponk to catch up, only to get excited and walk too far ahead again.

Ponk laughs. “Yeah?”

Foolish’s excitement is a nice change to see. Sometimes he gets so deep in a project it borders more on hysteria.

“Yeah! Okay, okay, so this bit– I dunno how I feel about the lights under the floor, but I think the design looks okay, right?” Foolish gestures excitedly to the swirling mosaic between the sandstone. Ponk is more distracted by the cavernous ceiling above. They have to admit, they can build generally speaking, sure, but Foolish is an artist.

“Damn, Foolish! You really are something, huh?” Ponk walks forward, staring around the cavern. Statues now line the walls. Foolish’s ability to construct something so massive and to create things so intricately makes his godhood somehow more credible.

“I-Is that a good thing?” Foolish laughs nervously, wringing his hands.

“Yeah, man!” Ponk bumps shoulders with him, or rather their shoulder hits his elbow. They turn to look back toward the center of the room, where a plinth of emerald encircles a glowing beacon. It’s quite the centerpiece.

Foolish follows their gaze. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s a bit new. The Beacon is what makes this all worth it, y’know?” He bounces back on his heels excitedly.

“It does?”

“Yeah! It’s just…” Foolish sighs almost wistfully. “Restorative, y’know?”

“...restorative?”

“Yeah! The Beacon– It just soothes something in the soul,” Foolish nods. “I dunno, maybe it’s a demigod thing. I just think it… it does something, y’know? Makes this more than just a room.”

“Actually,” Ponk looks curiously at the statues lining the walls. “If you’re a demigod, what’re the statues to? The sphynxes and such. Do you follow something, Foolish?”

“Uh, that’s kinda personal, isn’t it?” Foolish continues his tour, walking the perimeter of the room with Ponk in tow.

“I dunno, is it? I talk about Master Oogway sometimes,” they shrug.

“Yeah, yeah I guess,” Foolish considers it for a moment. “Not really? They’re just… impressive, aren’t they?” Foolish stops to look up at one of his statues, towering above even him.

Ponk smirks, “getting a little cocky, aren’t we there, Foolish?”

“Hey!” Foolish rolls his eyes. “I meant they were impressive, so that’s why I made statues of them.”

“Right, right sure, man!” Ponk teases him.

“Well, what about you then? You’ve got your shrines and you’re making that supreme thing– you wouldn’t call that impressive?” Foolish bends down closer to them.

“Aww, Foolish!” Ponk reaches up to pat his cheek. “You’re a cutie.”

Foolish stands up straight, shaking his head like a dog trying to get water out of his ears. He’s blushing. Ponk feels a bit smug.

“Ha, uh, don’t mention it. Or– Uh, thanks?” Foolish stammers together a reply.

Ponk saunters ahead, continuing to look at Foolish’s handiwork, Foolish trailing behind. “Nah, but on the subject, I guess I make things that deserve to be seen. Or that can do something for people. Like, what I’m building now is for you. It’s so I can be here and it’s so you know I care, you know? I made the shrine for Master Oogway more for me, but because it’s important to me.”

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” Foolish nods along. “Can I ask why? Most folks on this server, from what I’ve seen, they worship Prime, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Ponk shrugs. “Prime’s tenants don’t really appeal to me so much. I don’t care about property or money, at least not like that. Or for… groups. Organized religion, I guess. My shit is between me and my god.”

“So, do you have tenants?” Foolish meanders toward the beacon in the center of the room, the green glow washing out his golden skin.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah I have tenants. Why else would I follow it?” Ponk joins him, leaning against the tall emerald steps leading up to it.

“Like, what? Not property, not money, not a god, right? Because your god…?”

“Ascended,” Ponk fills in the blanks. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean he’s totally gone, though.”

Foolish looks at them curiously. “Do you think… it’s like ghosts? Because from what I’ve heard, the ghosts around here are sort of… off.”

Ponk laughs. “Uh, no. Not like ghosts. Oogway isn’t like, watching over us or something. More like… I’m still here. Having some of the same thoughts he had. So, he’s not really gone, you know?”

“Huh,” Foolish contemplates this for a moment. “I’m still kinda new at the whole being mortal thing, so, that’s… that’s a new one for me. It’s… powerful, I’ll give you that. You can save a life just by thinking about it.”

“No,” Ponk lays back, looking up at the glass at the tip of the pyramid, where that green light pushes on into the sky. Foolish lays back to join them, like he’s trying to see what they see. Ponk mulls it over for a moment. It’s strange. Their beliefs have felt like such a natural part of them for so long, reflecting on them feels different. “Remembering or not remembering, it’s not like I saved Oogway. It’s not like he even needed to be saved, you know? He didn’t die the way other people have. Doesn’t matter, I guess. You can’t save a life, only prolong it.”

“Oh,” Foolish’s voice seems to get smaller.

Ponk looks over at him, inviting him to continue.

Foolish glances from them back up to the ceiling, like this towering cavern he’s built around himself is easier than the honesty in their brown eyes. “Guess I… Guess I haven’t gotten to that part of… accepting things. If you can’t save a life…” Foolish exhales heavily. “I dunno! It’s weird to think about. I don’t like thinking that everything dies, okay? I haven’t learned that bit yet. I don’t know how you guys all just deal with it.”

Ponk shrugs. “Ah, well. I think this way is easier. It’s not that we don’t have any control, Foolish. But some things are just gonna happen, and that’s okay. It’s nice to trust in the universe sometimes.”

“And… you can trust in that?” Foolish sounds doubtful. “Like, no offense, but you haven’t exactly been on the straight and narrow all the time. And not to mention, the universe has kinda bit you in the ass a few times.”

Ponk laughs. “Um. Yeah. Actually, that’s why I can trust it. Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

“It… does..?”

“Karma, Foolish. Plain and simple. Karma,” Ponk nods knowingly. “You know what a karmic fruit is, Foolish?”

Foolish frowns. “Does it… have to do with lemons..?”

Ponk considers this for a moment. “You know what, sure. Not really, but sure. I guess it’s kinda like lemons. If you grow something sour, it makes sour fruits. And you decide if you can make something good out of it. Lemons into lemonade and all that. See, karmic fruits are just… the result of karma. You know what karma is, don’t you, Foolish?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s like, a cosmic force of the universe that punishes the bad and rewards the good.”

“That’s a bit of a simpler way to put it, but pretty much. Karmic fruit is the consequences. It’s the outcome of the karma you’ve acquired over your life. Punishment and reward… that stuff makes it all seem so petty,” Ponk huffs. “It’s never that simple, is it? Things happen, and you try, and the universe basically gives you what you give it, see?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“So, like, for example. You said the universe has bit me in the ass. I mean, yeah. But I did some messed up shit too. And now I’m trying to make up for it. Bad things happened to me,” Ponk is so tired. The past months have been a struggle, it makes faith a little harder. “But I’m still a part of the universe, right?”

“Ponk…” Foolish’s curiosity is traded for concern. “You… you know you didn’t deserve the bad stuff that happened to you, right?”

There’s a weighted pause. Ponk feels an ache in their chest and they’re struck by a profound gratefulness that Foolish is still there beside them, that he still wants to be. Ponk coughs, clearing their throat, turning back toward something a little less tender, a little less vulnerable. “Yeah, no shit!” Ponk’s irritation is mostly lighthearted. Mostly. “The universe didn’t kill me, Sam did!”

“But you said…” Foolish’s eyebrows furrow together as he tries to follow.

“Karma doesn’t take away responsibility, Foolish. Sam made those choices, and I made mine. But like, right now? I am here, spending time with you, and I’m doing okay. Because I put out that energy into the universe by trying to make amends, see?” Ponk doesn’t want to dredge in old grudges. They’d rather focus on this peace.

“I mean, isn’t that because I am choosing to spend time with you?” Foolish points out.

“Way to go, Foolish. Taking credit for the cosmic forces of the universe,” Ponk scolds him teasingly.

Foolish laughs a little uncertainly, looking over at them, bright green eyes gentle and imploring. Ponk stares back. They feel calmer now than they have in days. “Maybe you’re right, Foolish.”

“About… about what?”

“The Beacon. There is something about it, huh?” Ponk stares back up at the ceiling, the green glow less eerie to them now and more like it’s radiating life. The same color as their friend’s eyes.

Foolish seems to take some pride in this. “Yeah! Told ya!”

Ponk smiles. “Glad you showed it to me, Foolish.”

“Hey, I’m glad you came out here,” Foolish sounds so earnest, so genuine. Ponk had missed when kindness like that had seemed simple, but now they know better. Foolish’s compassion is a product of strength, not natural inclination. Ponk is grateful for it either way.

#purpled #dsmp fanfic #my writing #dropsbyponk #finally more ponk <3 #feedback is cherished as always #dsmp #c!sam #c!ponk #ponk #c!foolish #foolish

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Sweetest of Exiles - One

Summary: When Oberyn Martell travels to Essos for exile, he found more than he anticipated when he first lays eyes on Pero Tovar, his brother-in-arms in the Second Sons mercenary company. While Pero is a bit resistant to his Oberyn’s overt charms at first, the Prince always gets what he wants. When the Second Sons are hired to rescue a wealthy merchant’s daughter, Oberyn learns there is much more to the grumpy sellsword. And Oberyn doesn’t mind sharing–especially when the merchant’s daughter smiles at him like that.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, (past) Pero Tovar x F!Reader (No Y/N), future--it is a surprise.

Rating for this chapter: T for mentions of blood, guts and gore...magic. My overuse of italics.

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I wrote most of this drunk (or buzzed). I am still riding my red wine high so I almost apologize for the nonsense. If you have any questions about the ASOIAF lore/geography that I’m mentioning, please send me an ask or a DM! I’m always happy to ramble about this series.

(thank you to my love, @starlight-starwrites for the absolutely gorgeous banner. I love you.)

Or read on Ao3 here!

CHAPTER ONE: The Mercenary

Oberyn had always wondered what he looked like when fucking someone. He had looking glasses set up in one of his lover’s rooms so he could try to catch a glimpse himself. But his unrelenting need to keep his partners satisfied always won out over his curiosity.

But then the gods seemed to have a sense of humor when they sent him away from Dorne after he might-have-killed Edgar Yronwood. The Citadel and Oldtown had entertained him for a moment but it soon bored him and he set off across the Narrow Sea to Essos. While the Second Sons mercenary company welcomed him and his sword arm, his eyes were firmly trained on the man toward the back of the company with the scar down his face.

His face.

And well, his time away from Dorne just became much more interesting.

It had taken almost an entire year of not-at-all subtle flirting and propositions and nearly losing their lives time and time again before Pero found himself tumbling into the Prince of Dorne’s bed. The Prince was definitely persistent, Pero would never admit that his charms—his annoying charms—had worn him down instead of Pero’s selfish desire for release while the company was too far away from any sort of willing woman and his hand just wasn’t cutting it. But the Prince had been attentive—willing to let Pero wrap his scarred and rough hand around his throat when he was pressing him into the threadbare bedroll in the quiet corner of camp.

The prince felt good—and he knew how to make Pero feel good.

It was infuriating—he wanted to strangle he smug smirk right off the prince’s face but he knew that the Prince was only capable of enjoying when someone’s hand was around his throat. But he had to admit that he had finally found a true friend (and not just release) with the man who looked strangely like him.

It had been nearly two decades since he could speak with someone as openly as he did when he was alone with the prince in their tent.

But his mind still drifted—to years ago. To his life before finding coin in the service of the Second Sons.

“You make the moon shine brighter, Pero.”

It was childish of him, stupid, to still think of her all these years later. Surely she had forgotten him. They had just been children—he had just been a third-born son of a disgraced lord from Valysar and she had been… she had been everything.

“You are pensive, Tovar.” The prince’s voice cut through his reverie.

He had thought the prince asleep—spent from a long day’s ride and a quick, near-desperate fuck as soon as their shared tent was erected. “It is dark, princeling. You cannot see me.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I know your brooding silences from your angry quiet.”

“You think a great deal of yourself, don’t you?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes despite the dark.

“I believe you think a great deal of me, as well.”

Pero sighed.

“Tell me what weighs on your mind.”

“Nothing that concerns you. Go to sleep.”

Oberyn laughed. “I will find out what has you brooding.”

“Do not hold your breath, princeling.”

He only laughed.

Pero was not sure when they had both fallen asleep but they were both woken by a frantic yell outside their tent. The prince’s knife glinted in the dimming moonlight and Pero had never let his hand leave the hilt of one of his smaller swords as they charged outside. They expected an ambush—a retaliation from the Tyroshi they had just pushed back on behalf of Lys—but instead, they found a disheveled man, bloodied and bruised and desperately limping toward their camp, frantically waving his hands above his head, shouting something in the Myrish bastard Valyrian dialect.

Pero sheathed his blade as he finally started to realize what the man was babbling. “Calm yourself, man.” Pero said, stepping in front of Oberyn.

The man nearly collapsed as he reached them, big, brown eyes shining in the moonlight. “They took her. They took her—I barely escaped.” He continued to jabber and Pero mostly listened—having heard desperate pleas from hundreds of men and women over the years of his service in the mercenary company—the man’s story consisted of being surrounded on the road to Myr by a group of religious zealots. The story was not an unfamiliar one. The Free Cities were known to erupt with pockets of violence; the causes ranged from trade disputes, claims to land, religion, and everything in between.

Pero had heard it all.

But then the man opened his mouth, blood drying on his chin, and said, “but they took her—they wanted her.” And a name pushed by the man’s bruised lips—a name he hadn’t heard in years.

Before he could stop himself, Pero reached out and grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and hauled him to his unsteady feet. “Tell me where.”

The captains deliberated for only a few short moments before refusing to take the charge.

The fact that the woman was Qohorik had negated the fact that the Myrish magistrate who had fought his way to their camp had promised a princess’ ransom and promised that her father, a prominent merchant, would double it for her safe return. The Second Sons had been humiliated generations ago at Qohor and had not taken any bounties or contracts from the city or its inhabitants since then.

The Second Sons gave the magistrate—Orestes, his name was—some water and a bit of feed for his exhausted horse and then told him to leave. They would not go.

And Pero was an angry man. He had wrath in his blood since he was a boy, tempered only with bouts of relief and quiet. But this had sent him into a near rage with how flippant they captains had been when they had delivered their decision. Of course, he had not mentioned that the woman Orestes had pleaded to be rescued had been…her. Or how he knew her. Attachments like that were frowned upon, even by mercenaries. Soft hearts made easy targets.

But as the sun set the next day, Pero knew what he had to do. Even if he was alone. He packed his bare essentials, mostly worried about his sack of coin and weapons, and then pushed out of the tent-

-only to be met with the smirking face of the princeling. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”

“I do not have time for this.”

“Yes, you do,” Oberyn said with a broadening smirk as he turned away, leading Pero further away from camp as the moon continued her climb up into the inky sky. And why was Pero following him? He had to leave. He had to find that stupid magistrate. He had to-

There were about two dozen Second Sons, including one of the company’s healers, waiting at the tree line with their packs and mounts. Oberyn’s smirk reached its peak as he winked over his shoulder at Pero who only scowled in return. The Magistrate—Orestes—was standing with them, looking more than a little out of place with his rumpled fine clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. But he offered a tentative tilt of his head when Pero stepped up to the group with Oberyn.

“What did you do?” Pero hissed.

“I formed my own mercenary company,” Oberyn replied with a roll of his shoulders. “I know you are brighter than this, Tovar.”

If possible, his lips formed an even thinner line.

“Do not pout. We are going to save the damsel and get paid.” There was a cheer from the small band of men—both Tovar and Orestes were the only ones who did not seem to enjoy it. But soon they were on their way, each step taking them further away from the strange safety of the Second Sons and into the wilds of Essos.

Orestes, Pero found, was fond of speaking to anyone who would listen. His voice was pleasing but Pero preferred the quiet in most instances. But, he supposed it was necessary to learn just how he had ended up fleeing to the Second Sons in a desperate plea for help.

Orestes and his companion had been traveling from Qohor to Myr—and Pero tried very hard to not grind his teeth every time Orestes referred to her as ‘my lady’—to allow her to see more of Essos and to return Orestes to Myr after his year-long residency to Qohor that had been in the name of strengthening trade routes and agreements.

(“But, of course, I found myself more entranced by the city and its people than my fellow magistrates’ mandates that I was told to quickly solidify.” He sighed, the sound only a lovelorn man could make and Pero could not stop the grinding of his teeth at that.)

But on the road between Volantis and Myr, a group of heavily armed, religious zealots had slaughtered their small band of traveling companions and guards and took her and Orestes captive in a plot to gain the knowledge her father was keeping secret.

Her father, Lord Ollo, had been one of the famed smiths in Qohor who still knew the secrets of re-forging Valyrian Steel. The famed metal had become a treasure since the Doom and those who could work with the fickle and strong metal were regarded as lords and wielded their power like nobility, too. Travelers from all across Essos sought him out for new weapons, armor, and the occasional piece of jewelry from bits of Valyrian Steel and he had gained a reputation for being excessively secretive but the best at his trade. His wife was a noble woman and had raised his status with their marriage while providing her with the lifestyle on par with princesses.

But Pero knew all of this. He had seen it firsthand. He had supped with him and felt his lady-wife’s fingers tug at his boyishly poorly cropped hair with a fond smile. He knew that their home, an imposing fortress deep in the Forest of Qohor, always smelled of fire and metal and drying flowers.

It smelled…like home.

Well, it had. For a time. A long time ago.

And Orestes never needed to know that—never needed to know that the only reason he had a small band of mercenaries at his call was because the Prince knew that the woman, whose name he could not even say aloud, meant something to Pero.

For all his pride and well-earned arrogance, Oberyn was a good man, Pero had to admit. (He would never actually say this to Oberyn, his ego was big enough without the extra fodder.) And he would have to find a way to repay the prince-who-had-everything in some fashion. Pero’s pride would not allow this kindness to be left unpaid.

Orestes went on to explain that the zealots thought attaining the knowledge of Valyrian Steel would allow them the proper way of sacrificing in order to satiate the supposed blood lust of some old, stupidly named god. They hoped to trade her for Lord Ollo’s knowledge.

“But you seem to know my lady,” Orestes said, turning in his saddle to look Pero straight in the face. “Do you?”

“Is she your lady?” Pero asked in return, ignoring Orestes’ question and how his stomach turned at the thought of her being alone with a group of men as delusional as the band of zealots. Thankfully, they were nearing where Orestes said he had been held captive—less than two days’ ride from their camp but they had set their horses upon the trail with haste, cutting time from their journey.

Orestes’ answering smile was small. “No. But I am blessed to know her and I will never forgive myself for leaving her behind.”

“But she told you to, didn’t she? Told you to run and not look back.” The words were out of his mouth before he could bite them back and his ever-present scowl deepened.

“You do know her. Indeed, she told me to run as soon as I was able. But not to Myr—she told me to run west.” He paused and shook his head and Pero barely caught the confusion coloring the Magistrate’s features. “I had thought the prince was jesting when he said you knew her. I am in your debt, it seems.”

“Just pay the fee you promised.”

“Of course! I would not dream of-”

“Good.” Pero dug his heels into his horse’s side and urged the animal into a faster trot. “You will keep your head, then.” Orestes said something else but Pero had already galloped away to Oberyn’s side at the front of the group. “What have you said to the magistrate?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Do not lie to me, princeling.” Pero scarcely noticed the men behind them slow their horses’ pace to give them room. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—was an open secret to most in the Second Sons and some of those who followed Oberyn into this new company were also willing to indulge themselves in each other’s bedrolls if the time called for it.

Oberyn only laughed. “I did not know that your obvious reaction to a lady’s name was a secret needing to be kept.”

“What else have you told him?”

“Nothing. Just as you have told me nothing. But I have still called the men who were loyal to me and the promised coin to save this woman you have kept like a secret.” Oberyn arched an eyebrow, a look Pero knew meant Oberyn was daring him to argue. “She will be safe. The Magistrate will be on his way and our pockets will be filled.” Oberyn’s dark eyes sparkled in the growing sunlight. “And I shall meet this lady of yours. She must be a sight to behold to warrant such attention.”

“She…” The words died on his tongue. How would he even try to describe her? How childish would he sound to a prince for harboring such affections for his childhood love after all this time? “She warrants much more than any man could ever give. Including the Magistrate.”

Oberyn huffed but a smile tugged at his lips. “We are nearly there, Tovar. You can make the polite introductions.”

Night had just started to fall, painting the sky a violent shade of orange, when Orestes had announced that the ruined castle was just over the next hill.

Pero felt his chest tighten for a moment, a shot of adrenaline he had not felt as strongly since he was a new recruit to the Second Sons facing a small horde of Dothraki.

They crested the hill and Pero saw the broken remains of a once-grand castle. A single window was lit with the dim light of a candle just as the sun disappeared behind the stone, making it look like it had absorbed the red light and bathed in an inky black.

Defense of the castle was nearly impossible with its location and the small band of mercenaries quickly surrounded it, ready to drive inside when suddenly….the door, large and rusted, opened and a single man rushed out, screaming something in what Pero thought to be Old Ghiscari and covered in…blood.

Pero turned to look at Oberyn who seemed to be waffling between amusement and confusion at the sight. He waved a hand, silently commanding two men to secure the fleeing zealot—quietly, if possible.

“It is too quiet,” Pero said as he turned back to the castle after watching the screaming man be brought to his knees and a dirty rag shoved between his lips.

Oberyn agreed. “Surely a band of zealots would make more noise. I’ve been told they’re fond of chanting.” The prince slid closer to the ruined castle, staying hidden behind the rolling hill and scattered boulders for cover.

Pero watched him move, knowing the prince had an innate talent for hearing the smallest noises—whether it be from a rabbit or a sneaking assassin, and would trust whatever his judgement was.

“If anyone is left, they are not moving.”

Pero nodded, ignoring the umpteenth time his chest clenched, and signaled for the rest of their band of men to press forward. Step by step, they neared the castle and spread out to find different entrances. Orestes stumbled in the loose dirt to stay near Pero and Oberyn and Pero grimaced when Oberyn nudged him in the side, silently telling him to allow it—at least for the time being.

Closer and closer, they crept until they Pero was able to curl his hand around the edge of the door and peel it open just enough for him and Oberyn to slip inside. Orestes tripped over a loose stone as he followed.

And Oberyn had been right.

The castle was quiet. Unnaturally so.

The grip on his swords tightened as the small group pushed further into the dark ruins. Torches were scattered and burning out in their holds on the wall, casting even more shadows against the crumbling stone. He heard the soft footfalls of his fellow mercenaries coming in through the east and west entrances but it gave him little comfort. They were alone.

Alone.

His next step made a splash and he looked down to see the toe of his boot submerged in a dark puddle. He reached out and grabbed a torch from the wall and let the dying flames shine near the floor.

It was blood.

He raise the torch just enough to light the end of the hall and sighed.

“How interesting,” Oberyn said as he glanced over his shoulder.

Blood pooled between the broken stone and drip-drip-dripped from some unseen source to puddle in the corner. Bodies were crumpled along the path and Pero turned to pin Orestes with a look. “These men were the ones who slaughtered your guards and took you captive?”

Orestes looked down at a body and seemed to bite back a gulp. “Yes.”

“It looks like they put up quite a fight.”

“It looks like they were ripped open,” Pero corrected before pressing forward. “What did this? Did they do this to each other?”

“I’ve never seen a group more cohesive than them,” Orestes said. “They never contradicted each other or spoke out of turn. They had a singular mentality, it seemed. I would not believe they turned on each other.”

“Men turn on each other all the time,” Oberyn said. “Even without cause.”

They continued forward, Pero leading. He was not sure where they were going, but he knew—instinctively—that he needed to keep moving. If another person or creature had found the castle before they did, what hope did she have? Would he find her like this, too? Reduced to a bloody corpse? Would that be the last chance he would have to see her?

But they walked on, further into the dark, catching glimpses of the rising moon in the half-collapsed windows until they turned and saw the outline of a door, lit by a dim, orange light. Without a care, Pero pushed forward, hilt of his sword still in his hand as he pushed the door open and his grip faltered.

For the first time in nearly two decades, Pero let his swords fall from his grasp.

In the corner of the small room, huddled near a solitary candle, was a woman. Not just a woman—her.

Chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists and angry, deep cuts spanned the length of her legs and arms and her fine dress had been reduced to rags. He barely registered Oberyn calling for the healer as he stepped to her side and quickly knelt down. The locks on the chains were easily undone and his roughened hands carefully prodded at the broken skin.

“Pero,” she whispered, the name sliding by her chapped lips. Her head sagged and Pero moved just enough to let her forehead rest against his shoulder. “You’re here…” her voice was rough and raspy, like she had been screaming for hours. And perhaps she had.

“I’m here.”

The healer came in, arms filled with supplies, while more than a few of their company stuck their heads into the room to see their charge. Oberyn quickly moved them back and shut the door—Pero would thank him for it later.

“Look at me. Look at me, Petal,” Pero said as the healer tutted as he looked over her wounds before uncorking a bit of firewine.

Her unfocused eyes slid to him as the healer set to work. A cry broke her chapped lips as the firewine started to spill across her legs.

Pero reached out and kept her head still, gaze on him, as the healer continued. “Just me, Petal. I am here.”

“Pe-Pero.” The name was stilted on her tongue. “Please—it hurts-” a scream tore its way out of her throat but Pero held her steady even as his chest clenched.

“I know. But it will be over soon.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks as her hands shot out to grab at his armor; he could feel the heat of her touch sliding and blooming warmth through his thick tunic. But he kept her focused on him even as the healer muttered about needing more wrappings.

“I’m here, Petal. I’m here.”

“This is my fault,” Orestes whispered.

The company had settled into the ruins as a camp for the night, finding the rooms (where there wasn’t blood or any bodies) more comfortable than the outside ground. Pero, Oberyn, and Orestes were the last three to retire from the roaring fire they had made in the remnants of the great hall.

Pero agreed but kept that to himself. “How?”

“We travelled by Myr weeks ago. But I could not bear to part from my lady’s side—I convinced her, selfishly, to let me take her to see Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh. She had marveled at everything Norvos and Braavos had offered—even Lorath had made her wonder like a child. I wanted to give her more of that, to show her all I could.”

“And then you were set upon by zealots. Probably followed you from Dagger Lake.”

Orestes shook his head. “Our party never neared that pirate hive. The closest we came to it was when she insisted on seeing Valysar. That little town of no consequence.”

Oberyn, only briefly, touched Pero’s back and he knew the prince meant it as a comfort at the mention of Pero’s former home. Orestes did not notice it.

“But she was adamant and refused to tell anyone why. But she all but disappeared for an entire day once we arrived and would not speak of her adventures—the little box she had procured never left her side and was never opened.”

Pero almost smiled at that. She had not changed—in that respect, at least.

Orestes yawned and stood from the rickety chair. “I must retire for the night. Please alert me if my lady calls for me.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement while Pero felt his face curl into a sneer as the magistrate left the hall.

“He certainly holds a candle for his lady, does he not?” Oberyn mused as soon as Orestes was out of earshot.

“She did not ask for him once,” Pero said before reaching forward to grab the jug of terrible wine left on the table and took a large gulp.

“But she’s asked for you? Hm?” Oberyn asked, snatching the jug from him. “And you’ve yet to introduce me. I am almost insulted.”

“She needs rest, princeling.” He had made sure she was comfortable in one of the largest rooms and was happy to find that her trunks, filled with her belongings, were still intact and made sure she received them before he had let her rest for the night, making sure to let the rest of the company know that she was not to be disturbed.

“I’m sure she does.” He took a drink. “But she has also been trapped, alone, with men who meant her harm for nearly a week. You were the first friendly face she saw—do not think that I misheard her. She called for you. Pero.”

“You could walk in there now and she would not be able to tell the difference.”

Oberyn tutted and Pero stole the jug back. “I believe she would.”

Pero nearly startled when Oberyn reached out and grasped his wrist, keeping him from draining the rest of the wine. His grip was firm but gentle and a hold Pero knew well. “I thought people in Essos were more willing to indulge themselves in matters of the heart and flesh. Do not be stupid.”

And somehow…that worked. Pero slipped into her room and found her sitting on the small bed, wrapped legs atop the thin blankets and a book on her lap. In the warm candlelight, she looked almost healthy. Like she was not covered in healing salve and he didn’t know there were long, angry cuts hidden by wrappings and her thin nightgown.

She looked…so much like the girl he had left behind decades ago.

Pero remembered Lady Daeryssa smiling down at her daughter, flowers twisted into her braids.

“You are special, my star. Like me.”

“Like you, Mama?”

Daeryssa nodded and grabbed the small, blue rose she had Pero fetch just that morning and pressed her thumb against one of its thorns until blood bloomed on her skin and started to trickle down her skin. Her face was serene and Pero could not look away. Her bloodied fingers pulled the petals from the rose and she carefully pressed them against her daughter’s forehead, sticking them to her skin with blood. Words he didn’t understand slipped by her lips as she pressed another petal and then another to her daughter’s face until she stripped the flower bare.

“You will be magnificent, my star. Your trials will be hard but you will always rise above.”

“Come in,” she said, setting her book aside.

Pero did as he was told and blindly set his hands in hers as she reached out for him, letting her tug him onto the edge of her bed. “How are you?”

“I will heal.” She smiled as if nothing had caused her pain and his chest hurt. “I brought you something.” She leaned back just enough to retrieve a small box from the mess of blankets.

The box was nothing spectacular, made from a polished dark wood with a simple latch and did not weigh more than his dagger. “How did you know we would see each other again?” He asked.

She only smiled and pressed the small box further into his grip. “Open it.”

And he could not tell her no. He unfastened the latch and felt his face crumple as he looked inside. His mother’s handwriting, still beautiful and tilted, drew his eye first. He grabbed the thin bit of parchment and unfurled it.

My dear boy- I love you more than words can say. You have saved us.

The rest of the letter was filled with anecdotes, telling Pero how the coin he had sent back home kept their family afloat and settled his father’s debts, allowing his mother and brothers to stay home and retain their titles and livelihoods. He had saved them. His mother had written it at least three times in her short letter.

But I still wish I witnessed you grow into the man you are today. Come home. You are always welcome.

He quickly let the letter curl in on itself again and shoved it back in the box, knowing she was watching him, face serene and almost unreadable. He reached into the box again and let his fingers brush against something cold and smooth. A shuddering breath pushed its way out of his lung as he pulled out a small, carved wooden wolf that fit in his palm. He raised it up to press the well-worn wood against his lips, just once, before placing it gently back into the box.

“You met my family.”

“I did,” she said. “They were very kind.” She paused. “And they smile so often. I almost didn’t believe you were related to them.”

He huffed. “You never let me have a moments’ peace, Petal.”

“You were the only peace I knew as a child,” she responded.

Pero sat with her for hours under their tree after her mother had disappeared and the petals remained on her face, only falling one by one after the sun had set, leaving little bloody thumbprints across her skin. He tried to press them back onto her skin without success, and she only giggled at his attempts, leaning into each of his touches and letting him try and try again.

She collected all the petals as they fell and Pero had given up on trying to re-stick them.

“What are you doing?”

“Practice.” He watched her reach out and scratch her palm against the broken bark of the tree, slicing open her palm in a single movement.

He squawked and moved to grab her hand but she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the petals against her bloodied palm. She took a single, long breath through her nose and then unclenched her fist. The petals rose from her bloodied hand and floated up into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. They swirled around the pair before, with another long breath, she let them fly away, disappearing into the thick of the forest.

She laughed then, a light sound that had blood rushing to his cheeks for a reason he could not explain or pinpoint at that moment. All he could mutter as she looked at him, eyes twinkling and a giggle still on her lips was…”petal.”

“Why did you leave?” She asked as he tucked the small box away into his tunic.

Pero froze. “I had to.”

A/N: please let me know what you think! I hope you guys like this! there will be three chapters.

#oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pero tovar imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #game of thrones #the great wall

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luxekook · 5 years

Text

prologue.

⇥ pairing: taehyung x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 1.8k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, kissing, deception, taehyung with blue hair (aka LETHAL)

PROLOGUE

Spring of Sophomore Year - 11:52pm

"If it gets any hotter in here, we'd need jackets to enter the fucking gates of Hades."

My stellar observation goes by unappreciated, but I'm not shocked. The music thumps heavily through the house at a deafening decibel and the only methods of communication are screaming or sign language - I had done neither.

Earlier, when my roommate Luna told me about this particular party, I had hesitations for several reasons:

This party is being held at the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) house - a house known for its wild parties, excessive drinking, and dangerously attractive brothers.

I am not a huge fan of the aforementioned features or the trouble that always seems to accompany them.

It's Harry Potter Weekend and I am going to miss the fucking Goblet of Fire for this.

Long story short, Luna convinced me to go with her with promises of pizza and our own Harry Potter marathon tomorrow. Her promises in mind, I square my shoulders and motion for Luna to follow me to the slightly quieter kitchen on the other side of the living room.

As we cross the crowded room, Luna tugs on my wrist and tilts her head subtly towards the corner where four very large, very attractive guys are playing a rowdy game of beer pong, while three (equally attractive) others lounge against the wall watching. Taking a closer look, I notice that the two at the far end of the table seem to be winning. The one with light pink hair takes his shot and curses loudly when he misses. Annoyed, the other shoves him out of the way, lines up to shoot, and pauses. Our eyes meet.

A shiver runs down my spine as his dark gaze rests on me. His jaw is clenched and chiseled, his lips are set firmly but wickedly full. His black t-shirt stretches over wide, solid shoulders and I can almost make out the muscles that ripple beneath. His right arm is still poised to take his shot, and I can't help but notice how his bicep strains the fabric of his sleeve and how his large, tanned hand completely dwarfs the pong ball.

I barely remember to breathe as I realize his gaze is making his own assessment of me. I can feel his dark eyes rake over me, and it makes my skin buzz. His eyes trail over my black crop top down to my ripped black jeans, and blatantly checks out my legs.

Suddenly, his pink-haired partner elbows him, shattering our little moment. Shakily taking a breath, I turn to Luna who has an eyebrow raised at me. She grabs my hand and practically drags me into the kitchen. I sip my drink and fight the urge to look back.

The minute we enter the mostly empty kitchen, Luna whips around to face me, "Were you just openly eye-fucking Kim Taehyung, (y/n)?" I choke on my beer.

"Who?" I croak, still coughing to clear my windpipe of what I'm certain is shitty Natty Light. Rolling her eyes, Luna shakes her head at me like a disappointed parent, "Kim Taehyung. You know, the pledge master for BTS? Was just with his frat brother Park Jimin?"

She pauses dramatically, seeming to be waiting for some kind of response. I stare at her blankly.

Scoffing, Luna continues, "They were the ones playing pong just now, dumbass. The blue-haired one is Taehyung. You know, the one you were mentally undressing-"

"Okay," I cut her off, "I'm sorry to say that I haven't paid much attention to the members of our 'legendary' fraternities."

Pretending like I never interrupted, she resumes, "-with your eyes. Everyone knows who they are. You just live under a rock that you call the library..."

I close my eyes and pray for deliverance as Luna trails off.

"Can I get you another drink?" A deep voice definitely not belonging to Luna breaks the short silence. Opening my eyes, my vision focuses on the voice's source – a cute BTS pledge. His eyes are focused entirely on Luna, who suddenly seems unnaturally shy. She sends me a searching look, and I nod in response. Smiling, she turns back to the boy, "Yeah, I'm Luna by the way, and this is (y/n)."

“Jaehyun," he answers, giving me a head tilt while placing a palm on Luna's back. He slowly guides her from the kitchen towards where the keg was in the living room. Sending a glance over her shoulder, Luna meets my eyes and I wave my phone at her as a silent reminder to update me. She winks and disappears into the living room.

Sighing, I lift myself onto the kitchen counter to give my feet some reprieve from these heeled boots and reapply my blood red lipstick using my phone camera. Satisfied, I check the time.

12:01am. Not nearly late enough for Luna to want to leave - especially now...

Suddenly, a now-familiar buzz sizzles across my skin. Drawing my gaze up from my phone, two unopened cans of beer held by long, strong fingers meet my vision. I drag my eyes up past thick wrists and corded arms. Up goes my gaze past flexed biceps, across a broad chest, and finally my eyes meet his.

He looms over me, all broad and imposing.

"Hey," his husky voice - just slightly deeper, raspier than Jaehyun's - murmurs, "I'm Taehyung. I brought this for you."

Taehyung's intimidating; his stare is direct and unwavering. Heat rolls off him in waves, and if this party was hotter than hell, that must make him the devil.

Our fingers brush as I accept his slightly outstretched offering, and I swear I would feel the reoccurring zings for the next week. "Hey, thank you. I'm, uh..." I trail off, Taehyung's dark eyes staring at me from this close make me seem to lose all power of speech. God, do eyes that color really exist? Apparently, they do – deep brown mixed with flecks of amber, hypnotizing.

I clear my throat and try to force my last two brain cells to work together, "I'm (y/n)."

He's smirking slightly now, the gesture pulling forth the cutest flush of pink in his cheeks, "Nice to meet you, (y/n)." And I swear he says my name like he's caressing it, tasting it for the first time.

Damn, he's unholy. Where is my snarky, inner bad bitch when I need her?

"Did you win your game? Seems like you might have been a little... distracted," I smirk, there she is. I crack open my beer and revel in the emitting hiss.

A flicker of heat bursts through those brown eyes as he leans closer still, enveloping me with his intoxicating cologne. He smells like autumn woods with a hint of fresh lemon; he smells like trouble.

Taehyung sets his beer down and places his arms on either side of me - caging me in. "Things were going just fine 'til this girl came strutting through the room in some tight fucking jeans," his tongue flicks over his lower lip, "So, yeah, you could say I got a little distracted."

"I do not strut," I object, narrowing my eyes at him - daring him to contradict me.

He's undeterred, "Yeah, you do, jagi." His eyes are full of mirth and he's clearly enjoying getting a reaction from me, "It's hot."

I bristle, unsure if I should accept that 'compliment' at face value, "Does this work on most girls? You know, the whole cornering her while you give her lame compliments thing?"

He looks surprised for a second, but then his head tilts back and he lets out one of the most endearing laughs I've ever heard - all unrestrained and unabashed pleasure.

Still chuckling, he tilts his head, eyes darting all over my face - lingering on my lips, "Where did you come from, (y/n)?"

Within seconds we're making out like unsupervised high school students, right in the middle of the damn kitchen. I let out an embarrassing moan when he bites my bottom lip then sucks on it. Expertly coaxing my lips apart, his tongue meets mine in a feverish tangle while his hands grip my waist - pulling me into him.

The way that Kim Taehyung kisses is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's hot and demandingly deliberate with a possessiveness that sends a ripple of electricity through me. I'm playing with fire, making out with him, but at this moment I can't find it in me to give a single fuck.

Blazing lips suck and bite at the side of my neck and –

"(y/n)?"

The franticly questioning voice draws nearer as I open my eyes and tear myself away from Taehyung's wicked mouth. Luna's there, peering around Taehyung's shoulder, and I can immediately tell that something is seriously wrong.

Shoving Taehyung away from me, I jump down from the counter and stumble - completely forgetting I was in three-inch heeled boots. Taehyung’s hands shoot out around my waist to stabilize me, "Whoa, easy there, (y/n)."

"Get your lecherous paws off her, Kim," my eyes dart to Luna, shocked at her tone but proud of her vocabulary, "(y/n), we have to go."

"What's going on?" I'm at a loss, and I hate it, "Are you okay? Where's Jaehyun? Do I need to chop his dick off?"

Taehyung lets out a choking sound beside me, but I pay him no mind - chicks before dicks, hoes before bros, besties before testes, etc. etc.

"What I'm planning is much worse," Luna mutters with a strange glint in here eye as she pulls me away from Taehyung and levels him with an icy stare, "Listen, Kim, I know all about your little task for the pledges. Seriously, forcing them to get with as many girls as possible before they get their letters? Are you that much of a chauvinistic asshole?"

I whip around to face Taehyung, who seems to have become intensely interested in his beer, "Is this true?" He says nothing. I stalk up to him, shoving a finger in his chest, "Is. It. True."

His beautiful, guilty eyes flicker up to meet mine, and my heart sinks.

"Fuck. You." My words come out as a whisper but are still vicious enough to make Taehyung stagger back.

With that, Luna and I stalk out of the party - heads held high and arms linked.

Returning to our dorm, we make a pact to avoid all frat boys and christen it with pizza. She never tells me how she found out about the stupid pledge task; I'm smart enough to know that she must have had her reasons.

But I wasn't smart enough to stop thinking about Kim Taehyung.

I played with fire.

I should have known I'd get burned.

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter except for like, the word orgasm

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 8/16 (all chapters)

The sports festival was over before you knew it. You left the school grounds on a high, proud of being even slightly involved in such an impressive event.

You knew that the next few days were going to be frantic, so made a point to stop off at the store to pick up some last minute groceries while you had the chance to do so. They were having a sale on seasonal produce and you ended up buying more than you meant to, struggling under the weight of your numerous bags as you arrived at your house.

You lifted your bags to reach for your keys, only to catch your ankle on something and fall face first onto your own doorstep, vegetables flying everywhere in your wake. Somehow you avoided smashing your face against the concrete and escaped with only minor grazes on your knees and palms. You rolled over onto your back with a hiss of pain, wondering what the hell you’d tripped over.

You got your answer soon enough, though you didn’t like it. Shouta was sitting on the ground beside you, pointedly looking away. You realised in horror that you had almost certainly flashed your underwear on the way down. Heck, you were flashing him then.

“Oops,” you said, quickly rearranging yourself and clapping a hand in your lap for good measure. “Were you...waiting for me?”

It was a stupid question and you knew it. Why else would he be sitting at your door?

He’d got the food containers that you’d given him in his lap and you felt more than a passing pang of joy at the knowledge that he must have eaten everything you had made for him, even if you were still more than a little miffed that he’d gone back to work without rest.

“Come on in,” you said, getting up to gather the vegetables you’d dropped everywhere. Thankfully you hadn’t bought anything particularly fragile. “I’ll make some-

He reached out to take the bags from you and you glanced from his casts to his blank expression and back again. He wanted to help, that much was clear, but there was no way you were going to push all of your groceries into his injured arms. Instead you lifted a single bright red tomato from your bag and set it down on top of the food containers he already had.

He was far from impressed by the gesture, but said little of it as he followed you into your home. You headed to the sink to wash your hands and hissed with pain when the water hit your grazes.

“What is it?”

Shouta peered over your shoulder, standing so close that you could feel his breath against the back of your neck. It was more than a little distracting, all things considered.

“You really are an idiot,” he sighed.

For a second, and only one, you agreed with him.

“Wait. Me?? I’m the idiot?! Why were you sitting at my door in the first place?”

“You should pay more attention to your surroundings.”

“And you shouldn’t sit in such a prime tripping position,” you said. “I could have broken my nose!”

You turned towards him, ready to make a comment about how he was exactly like a cat, running between your legs and trying to trip you over onto your ass, but you fell silent at the realisation that you were at kissing level.

“Oh,” you said. “Hello.”

He glanced at your lips, however briefly.

“Sorry,” he said. “I came to talk about...I came to talk about 1-A.”

“Okay,” you said, “um...where would you like to start?”

He stood there, eying you from head to toe as if you were a battle scene and he needed to devise a strategy. You might not have known it, but in many respects you were.

“I didn’t come to talk about 1-A.”

“No.”

Truth be told, you already knew. You had both dreaded and looked forward to this moment; the discussion about the kiss. You were both adults and couldn’t dance around the topic forever, no matter how much you might have wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I took advantage of you and I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Stop it with that. If I didn’t want to kiss you, I wouldn’t have.”

He was so close...so warm. He was close enough to touch and you couldn’t distract yourself from it. The students weren’t the only ones you hoped your feelings reached. You wanted him to know how much you had feared for him the day of the accident; the feelings deep within you that you didn’t want to leave behind.

You didn’t want him to leave you behind.

“I…”

“Hizashi,” he said.

It was perhaps the last thing you expected him to say and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Uh...I’m (Name).”

He laughed at that under his breath, so quietly that you wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t standing so extraordinarily close.

“Fried chicken,” he continued, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was having a stroke. “Black nail polish, green candies.”

“Shouta…”

You planted a hand on his forehead to feel his temperature, wondering if you should call an ambulance. Maybe it wasn’t only his orbital cavity that had been damaged.

“Purple socks, studded leather, zombie movies, horror games, candles that smell like desserts, cheap sunglasses, expensive shampoo, eighties rock and dubstep mashups, light beer…” he skimmed your hairline. “(HC) hair.”

“Shouta, what are you…”

He took a step back and crossed his arms as much as one could with two casts.

“Those are the things Mic likes,” he said, as politely as if you were strangers. “Bear them in mind.”

“Uh...okay,” you said, wondering if his birthday was coming up. “I will.”

Shouta nodded and you couldn’t help but wonder. If it was just Hizashi’s birthday, why did he look so sad?

“I’m rooting for you,” he said, giving you a polite bow.

You stared at your front door for a long time after he left, going over everything he had said. You couldn’t understand why he had looked so upset, however briefly.

What had any of it got to do with Hizashi? Why did it matter if you knew the kind of movies he liked?

Why would he-

Realisation hit you like an ice cold bath as you considered recent events: Hizashi’s immediate invitation for beers the day that you met; his insistence that you called him by his first name within a matter of hours of meeting. Hizashi, who seemed incapable of going a single conversation without calling you ‘cute’. Hizashi, who nudged you with his elbow the last time you had recorded Support Mic and told you with a wink that the walls were soundproof.

You moved towards your cupboards and began to pack your groceries away, too many thoughts circling your mind for you to settle on a single one.

This was, to say the least, an interesting development.

~~~~~~

Aizawa Shouta had suffered many misfortunes in his life. He had lost friends, family and students alike, had slept in the cold with nothing but a cigarette for dinner.

He had almost always accepted his misfortunes with grace; it was easier to dodge punches when you saw them coming.

Even so, he left your home slowly, thinking of Shinohara.

Hizashi and Nemuri had him wrong; since high school, they had believed he was oblivious to her advances and discarded her love notes by mistake. As a matter of fact, he had done so deliberately.

What was it you had said the night of the reset? That you had never done such a thing before and didn’t know what came next?

Shouta knew as much about relationships as you did casual flings.

He had read each one of Shinohara’s notes. He had seen the way she behaved like a deer in headlights and concluded that he didn’t understand any of it. She spoke of him in such abstract and illogical terms that he wondered if she knew him at all.

It was easier to believe she didn’t. When she spoke of kind eyes and wisdom, she meant someone else. She offered up a piece of her heart with every letter and he was doing her a favour by not taking them. That person she liked didn’t exist.

Casual lovers didn’t expect anything from him other than an orgasm, which was easy enough to provide with practise. Longer term partners, though, that was something else entirely. He didn’t know the first thing about being someone’s boyfriend, but he did know that Hizashi would make the perfect one. In the long run, you would be better off with him.

It was easier to dodge punches when you saw them coming; easier to avoid disappointments when you didn’t hope for things in the first place.

Even so, he caught himself thinking back to the day of the reset.

You chased after him then and, if he was completely honest, he wanted you to now.

~~~~

While you cooked dinner and Shouta returned home, Hizashi sat at the bar in Ego , sipping at his drink with a depressed expression that completely contrasted the upbeat music playing over the speakers.

He had gone to Ego straight from work, meaning to ask about the mystery woman. He’d gotten distracted, though, watching the video over and over instead of showing it to the staff. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Shouta held the woman’s hand in his.

He’d held Shouta’s hand before, during training exercises or to find him in crowds, but it had never had the same feel to it that he saw in the video. Shouta had always been reluctant about it, never once taking the lead and Hizashi felt oddly jealous, wondering why he had never received the same level of tenderness as the woman at Ego .

For the briefest of moments, he was tempted to delete the video and erase the mystery woman from their lives. He didn’t like what she represented, no matter how wonderful she might have been.

He downed his drink in one with a grimace, catching the attention of the bartender.

“Can I get you a refill?”

Hizashi sighed, twirling his glass and spinning the ice cubes within.

“Yeah, maybe something harder.”

“Mic, you’re going to scare away the customers at this rate. What’s the matter with you?”

Hizashi set aside his glass with a sigh.

“I’m looking for a woman,” he said.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Not like that. She was here about six months ago. Had drinks with Eraser. I was hoping you’d remember her.”

The bartender laughed as he reached for a bottle of rum.

“Listen,” he said, grabbing a glass and setting it down on the bar with a flourish. “I have a better memory than most, but even I can’t remember that far back.”

“Don’t you have CCTV or something? It’s pretty important that we find her.”

“Oh? She do something illegal?”

“No, I just want to talk to her.”

The bartender poured rum into the glass, flinching at his answer.

“I’ll be honest,” he said. “The boss man handles all of that stuff and I doubt he’d part with that kind of information without a formal subpoena. Do you have any idea how many creepy guys come to us looking for girl’s numbers?”

Hizashi reached for his newly filled drink.

“Not even for me?”

“ Especially not for you. If anything went south it would be even more of a scandal.”

Hizashi hadn’t expected to hit a dead end so early on and didn’t know how to feel about it. He wondered if he should have followed his instincts and deleted the video after all.

He wondered about it on the train ride home, as he combed his hair, as he sat down in his studio. He played the video on silent and scrolled through it as he loaded up each track.

Finally, at minutes past midnight, he leaned into his microphone.

“Now, listeners,” he said, “here’s a song for the lovers.”

There and then he played a song of unrequited love, of strangers on trains and secret words and crossed paths, a song that bled with emotion and longing. A song that you sang along to as it played through your earphones. A song that Shouta nodded his head along to on his balcony, Sushi curled up on his lap.

Hizashi closed his eyes as he listened to the song, the video from Ego loaded and his finger hovering over ‘delete’.

One tap and the mystery woman would be gone forever. One tap and this feeling of dejectedness would leave him. He wouldn’t have to think anymore about what she represented, the realisations she had forced upon him without ever introducing herself.

One tap and he wouldn’t be the Shinohara.

He locked his phone instead and set it aside, the video safe for another day.

He told himself the same thing you told yourself as you stared at your bedroom ceiling, thinking of the way Shouta had backed away.

He told himself the same thing Shouta told himself as he thought of your lips and bewildered expression.

I shouldn’t be selfish. This is the way it should be.

#aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #present mic #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #habanero

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radiantroope · 4 years

Text

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter One – Falling Apart

chapter summary: Rafe’s actions when you move to California prove distance does not make the heart grow fonder. You get a phone call that puts your whole life on pause.

warnings: flashbacks are in italics, none

word count: 2k+

author’s note: i kinda hate this but i’m gonna post it anyway. this fic is definitely a slow burn. once again, shout out to @royalmerchant & @diverdcwn for letting me send you the first half of this and convincing it wasn’t complete shit. feedback means everything to me, please let me know what you think so far!!♥️

read the introduction here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

You kept your promise and called Rafe as much as you could — FaceTiming every Saturday for a few hours in the evening. He helped you decorate your on campus apartment as much as he could through the tiny phone screen. You’d eat dinner together and talk about how your week had been. There was a three hour time difference though, so either you were eating very early or Rafe was eating fairly late. Though, you didn’t mind making that sacrifice if it meant you got to talk to him and see his face.

It was all going good for a few months, the semester started off slow for you and your professors seemed nice enough. Thanksgiving rolled around before you knew it and your parents had flown out to visit. They gushed over your quaint little apartment and awed at the large campus that you took them for a stroll around. The three of you FaceTimed the Cameron’s on the morning of Thanksgiving itself and talked to them for a while as Rose frantically ran about the kitchen, insisting that she wanted to help make the feast that year instead of hiring chefs to do it for them.

It was a few days after that, just after your parents flew home, that things changed. Rafe declined more of your calls than he answered. He started missing your Saturday FaceTime dates, stating his workload was too much and he had to miss it. You believed him, of course. You were two Freshmen in college and it was inevitable that the schoolwork was bound to weigh on you eventually.

Sparse phone calls turned into even sparser texts. It was embarrassing, really. If anyone could see how many texts you’d sent to get a three word response a few days later they’d probably laugh in your face. Just before the winter trip to Colorado, he stopped replying all together. He’d either turned his read receipts off or he was ignoring your texts all together because the word ‘Delivered’ managed to slap you in the face everyday.

Your Uber pulled up to the luxurious cabin your family shared with the Cameron’s and a wave of nausea flooded through you. You didn’t know if you were ready to face your best friend and find out what you’d done for him to deliberately ignore you. As you walked through the front door, immediately greeted by a squealing Wheezie, you quickly noticed the absence of the brunette boy amongst your families in the kitchen and living room.

Sarah dragged you to the room she and Wheezie were sharing after you greeted her father and Rose. She barely gave you time to drop your bags by your own room. The teenager immediately jumped into all the melodrama happening in her life. You weren’t shocked to find out she was dating Topper Thornton. You knew the boy had his eye on her for a while and were glad to know he’d taken your advice of asking her out before you left.

“Where’s Rafe?” you questioned sometime later, after dinner with Sarah nestled beside you in your bed.

“He took some job with one of dad’s partners. Something about furthering his resume,” Sarah said, shrugging. To her, it was no big deal that her brother wasn’t there, oblivious to his recent absence in your life.

“Right,” you responded solemnly.

It was hard to hide your obvious disappointment that Rafe had missed the trip. In the thirteen years you’d known him, he’d never missed this trip. He was always so eager to get away from the Outer Banks and it’s muggy weather to spend Christmas surrounded by snow. He snowboarded almost everyday, dragging you up to the mountains with him. He looked like a pro, flying down the slopes with precision and grace. Inevitably he’d have to make his way back up to help you down, but that was part of the fun, laughing as you lost your balance and tumbled into the snow more than once. You’d grab a hot chocolate from the mountain resort after, out of breath and full of giggles.

Christmas morning was especially dreary for you. Your mother took notice of your odd silence over breakfast and placed a comforting hand over yours as you cradled a mug of coffee. You forced a smile, standing to follow everyone into the living room to open gifts. The cabin felt quiet — void of Wheezie’s screaming laughter and Rafe’s thundering footsteps as he chased her around with a flimsy Santa hat atop his messy head of hair. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Ward took over handing out the gifts, a job usually reserved for his son.

“Have you talked to him?”

You sighed through the phone at Janelle’s question. The last time you attempted to reach Rafe was New Year’s Eve. Just as the clock struck midnight, you sent him a standard ‘Happy New Year’ text. Your heart leapt to your throat when a moment later, the three text bubbles popping up. They sat there for a moment, taunting you, before disappearing. You awaited a response, only for one to never come.

By the time the spring break trip to the Bahamas rolled around, you were infuriated. You couldn’t wait to get down there and give Rafe a piece of your mind. Thirteen years of friendship and he couldn’t even text you back. He dropped you like you were last year’s Gucci — like you were nothing to him.

Janelle was the only person who knew Rafe meant more to you than just a best friend. When you were twelve, you told her how it was just a silly crush and you only thought he was cute. When you were fourteen, you admitted he gave you butterflies and you couldn’t get him out of your head. When you were sixteen, you bawled to her when he got his first real girlfriend, confessing you were hopelessly in love with the boy who would never feel the same way. She never told a soul, letting you spill your heart out to her whenever you needed to.

“No, and he’s made it very clear he wants nothing to do with me.”

As the plane landed in the Bahamas on the private airstrip, you breathed a sigh of relief. You couldn’t wait to lay out in the sun by the water and let all your worries wash away. Your grades had slipped a bit after winter break, your mind consumed with anything but school. With a lot of extra work, you managed to get yourself back on track — also with a slight threat from your mother of lowering your monthly direct deposit from their bank account.

You saw Ward and your father waiting by the typical black Escalade they used to get around, the driver waiting by the backdoor to take your luggage. Both men embraced you as you stepped off the aircraft and climbed into the running car. Nervousness bubbled in your veins, causing you to bounce your knee beside your father as you began your journey to the beach home Ward owned.

“No Rafe this year, huh Ward?” your father broke the silence with his question, sparring you a glance from the corner of his eye.

“No,” Ward sighed, “He decided to take his own trip to Hawaii with some friends.”

A hurt expression contorted on your face that you quickly masked with a small smile. The two of you had always talked about going to Hawaii one day. He was living out those dreams without you now. Your tone was playful, yet you were anything but, “He’s a busy boy now-a-days, isn’t he?”

Ward laughed and simply nodded in response. Your father gave you a knowing look and a reassuring smile. Though it did nothing to ease the ache in your chest. You turned towards the window and watched the palm trees fly by the closer you got to the beachfront mansion. Your hair fell in your face, effectively masking the salty tears slowly rolling down your cheeks.

You laid on the beach, sunglasses covering slightly puffy and red rimmed eyes. You watched surfers ride the waves and recalled a time where you’d go out and join them. You’d rent a surfboard for the week, forcing Rafe to do the same and try your best to teach him how to surf. You weren’t sure if he was just too big to balance properly or he didn’t care to try, but he still entertained you. He was always in awe with how gracefully you rode the waves, despite him fully believing it was a Pogue sport. You were a Kook and he never quite understood why you loved it so much, but you were good and there was no denying it. He’d sit atop his own board and just watch you with a ghost of a smile, cheering when you pulled off a trick you’d been working on.

The distant memory of Rafe’s laughter echoed in your head as Sarah plopped down beside you and pulled you out of your thoughts. Your parents were all going out that night and she insisted on a girls night with Wheezie involving some expensive wine she’d snuck in her bag from Rose’s collection. The two of you obviously didn’t let the youngest girl in on the alcohol, but she didn’t seem to mind much, just enjoying spending quality time with the two older girls.

You tried your hardest to paint on a smile and indulge the girls the best you could in their conversations and game of Truth. Though your mind kept drifting, eyes burning with tears that you felt would never stop falling. All you could think about was how you and Rafe used to do this — sneak a bottle of his father’s liquor and hide out on the balcony into the late hours of the morning. You’d talk for hours about your lives and the future — a future you never pictured he wouldn’t be a part of.

It had been five years since then. You were almost twenty four now and hadn’t seen your best friend in five years. You stopped going on the family vacations when you realized it was Rafe’s way to keep from seeing you. You’d visit home for a week or two in the Summer, instead of spending the whole three months there like you intended. If your parents weren’t intent on living out the rest of their lives in Kildare, you probably would have never gone back. But they’d done too much for you — gave you everything you had — so you went back for them. Never did you see Rafe, and you couldn’t say you were upset about it. Seeing him would put you back at square one.

You graduated with your Bachelor’s degree and were planning to go for your doctorate in Psychology. Classes started the following week and it seemed like everything was finally falling into place. You were setting yourself up for life. Though, it still felt like something was off — like there was a part of you missing.

You and Janelle still spoke frequently. She always made a point to bring up Rafe, even when you didn’t ask. How he’d been scoring all these great jobs and working on big projects. How he was the happiest she’d ever seen him. Usually you’d mutter a small ‘that’s nice’ in response and change the subject. What made her think you wanted to hear about someone you used to love? Someone who used to be your other half? Why was she so adamant about rubbing it in your face that they were still so close?

You jumped as your ringtone set for your father blasted through the living room. You rushed from the stove where you’d been preparing dinner and picked the device up off the couch. Your voice was chipper as you answered his call, “Hi, daddy!”

“Hi, pumpkin,” your father sounded exhausted, a slight strain to his tone. Before you could question him he was continuing, “There’s.. There’s something you need to know.”

You turned off the stove immediately, heart sinking into your stomach. You remained silent and leaned against the counter to support your shaking frame. With a few words, you felt everything come crumbling down around you.

“It’s your mother, Y/N. You need to come home.”

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#obx fic #outer banks fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe fic #rafe series #rafe imagine #lonely heart #chyna writes

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nah-she-didnt · 4 years

Note

Prompt 32. “Then why are you still here?! Go!”

Hiya, thank you for the prompt! This turned into part 2 of Soldiers.

Soldiers, Pt. 2

The wind whistled through his hair as he finished his third lap around the pitch. The first lap was always slow, deliberate, controlled. The second, he streaked past the stands in a blur of red and gold, but slowed down for the corners, practicing braking and turning until the movements became as natural as breathing. In the third lap, he let go completely.

Today, however, James’ head was not in the practice.

He cursed under his breath as he missed his mark below the third hoop on the south side. He’d slowed down too much to make the play like he’d planned. That sloppiness would never win him the championship match against Slytherin.

He landed hard on the ground and chucked his broom away in frustration. He needed to concentrate. He needed to stop thinking about the betrayal in Lily’s voice or the way she’d flushed with fury. The way Sirius had stood there and refused to defend him. It was all so unfair. Didn’t she realize that he was only working with Dumbledore to keep her safe? Why couldn’t she believe that he was capable of greater things than straight O’s on his exams?

Of course, she had been right, he was being stupid. Stupid to think she wouldn’t be furious with him when she learned of the danger he put himself into. Because that’s what it all came down to. She didn’t want to see him get hurt.

James glanced toward the horizon. The sun had begun to go down now. It wasn’t safe to be alone in the dark these days. He bent down, picked up his broom (which, to his dismay, he had thrown right into a pile of muck), and walked back toward the castle.

He wasn’t surprised at all to see Lily waiting for him in the Great Hall.

A new wave of defiance swept through him, and he did not slow down to greet her.

“I need to talk to you.” Lily’s eyes were rimmed with red as if she’d been crying. James felt his resolve weaken. He willed himself not to break in front of her.

“‘Bout what?” he mumbled as he strode past her. She fell into step beside him, unphased by his brush off.

“James, you can’t do this,” she huffed.

James felt his face grow hot. “God, Lily, if you tell me one more time what I can and can’t do, I’m going to scream.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

James spun around to face her. “Idiot, am I? If I’m such a stupid idiot, as you so clearly believe, then why are you still here?! Go!”

Lily moved toward him until they stood only a few inches apart. She jabbed a finger into the middle of his chest. “Yes, you are being an idiot. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!”

“Of course I do! I’m not going to sit around and watch Voldemort recruit a whole new army right while I waste my life in the fucking library.”

Lily looked around hurriedly. “Shut up, not here,” and she tugged on his arm to pull him behind a tapestry and into a hidden corridor.

Once they were safely hidden from the hall, she rounded on him. “I’m not telling you not to go after them! I want you to burn every last one of them, and I’ll help you do it.” Her eyes were shining now with angry tears. “I’m saying you can’t do this,” she gestured between them, “shut me out like this. We’re partners, remember? Not to mention in two months we’ll be fighting a war together. If we’ve got any shot of making it out alive we’ve got to stick together.”

James could feel the anger draining from him as she spoke. Her resolve steadied him. It was as if he saw her clearly for the first time in his life.

He took both her hands in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to go behind your back.”

“Then why did you?” She wasn’t backing down.

He exhaled deeply. “Because I thought… I dunno, I wanted to protect you from it all.”

Lily rolled her eyes at this. “James, you can’t keep me out of danger. I’m fighting too, remember?”

“I didn’t want to protect you from danger,” he shifted, looking down at his feet to avoid her eyes. “When we got wind that Snape was involved...I didn’t want you to have to see what he’d turned into. I mean,” he laughed slightly, “I’ve hated him for years, it’s no skin off my back. But I know he was someone different to you. I knew you’d find out eventually when we joined the Order properly, but I couldn’t bring myself to ruin your last memories of him while we were still in school.”

James could hear Lily’s breathing slow. She still held his hands in hers, but her grip was softer now. Finally, she spoke.

“I’ve known for years,” she said, barely above a whisper, “I’ve always known who he was. His pureblood mania, his jealousy of you and Sirius for your blood status, his little friends in Slytherin. I’m not stupid, I knew what it all meant. But I stayed anyway.” Her voice had begun to waver slightly, but she pressed on. “Calling me mudblood wasn’t the beginning of the end, it was the final straw.”

He looked at her properly now. She looked much smaller than usual.

He gripped her hands more tightly. “That’s not your fault. You were a little kid, you didn’t know he was bad for you.”

She shook her head. “All the signs were there. I should have broken off from him a long time ago, but I couldn’t. I was weak.”

“Weak?” he laughed and drew her into his chest. “Lily,” he breathed into her hair, “as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been weak a day in your life. Trusting someone is not a sign of weakness, even if they don’t deserve it. Sometimes we just give ourselves to the wrong people.”

She nodded against his quidditch robes. In a sudden moment of panic, he realized that he must smell awful after his workout, but she didn’t seem to mind. She buried her face deeper into him and sighed.

“You can’t lie like that ever again, alright?”

“I know,” he murmured, stroking her hair, “I’m sorry.”

She pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Good. And I’m sorry I called you an idiot. Although, I still think you should tell Dumbledore to shove off until we graduate. You’ve got a quidditch cup to train for, after all.”

James grinned down at her. “And a girlfriend to shower with praise and admiration.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem,” and with a wink, she tugged the front of his robes until he pressed her between the stones of the corridor wall.

#jily angst #jily one shot #nina writes #prompt #anon ask

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nerdyfangirl67 · 4 years

Text

Now I Know - Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Hotch x reader

Warnings: language, slight angst, fluff, wide range of emotions expressed by reader in the letters

Word count: 2248

A/N: This is a sequel to If You Only Knew, set in the future when Aaron finds the letters the reader wrote. The reader is married to Aaron now. And my requests are always open so feel free to send me some!

Aaron is cleaning out the attic and finds the box of letters the reader wrote for him during a relationship break. He reads them and finds out how the reader truly feels

AARON’S POV

It was one of those days when I didn’t know exactly what to do with myself. I had fixed the squeaky step leading up the front porch, replaced the garage door light, and even cleaned the gutters. And it was only one in the afternoon and I wasn’t sure what else to do for the day.

On any typical day off, Y/N and I would be spending time doing something with Jack. Today though was different. Y/N was out with Garcia and Prentiss on a much-needed girls’ shopping trip. Jack was over at a friend’s for a playdate and wouldn’t be back until Y/N picked him up on her way home.

After a quick lunch of a PB&J sandwich with a side of a macaroni salad Y/N had made the other day, I decide to head up to the attic and clean out some of the many boxes that had been pushed aside and forgotten when we had moved into the house.

Pushing open the attic door sends up a dust cloud, causing me to have to wave my arms around like a mad man to clear the entry as I let out a harsh cough. Once the dust clears, I trudge up the rickety stairs, my eyes scanning the room as I reached the top. There were quite a few more boxes than I had anticipated, all strewn haphazardly across the floor.

Heaving out a sigh, I move forward, examining the boxes and decide to start with those marked miscellaneous.

Two hours and six boxes later and the attic looked no cleaner than it had when I started. I start looking for the next box of seemingly random crap when I come across a small wooden container, resting atop a large cardboard box with Aaron written across it.

Curiosity had me stepping forward to grab the wooden container. Intricate designs were carved into the top of the container and a small gold latch held the lid closed. I trace a gentle hand across the top before carefully opening it.

I pull out a thick bundle, quickly realizing that it was a stack of letters wrapped in gold and silver tissue paper. I slowly unwrap the paper, careful not to tear it.

Written in thick, black ink and staring back at me is my name and the address of my old apartment. No name is in the left upper corner, leaving me with a mixed feeling of confusion and curiosity.

After deliberating for a solid five minutes on whether I should open the letters, as all were addressed to me, none of which had a return address, I decided to go for it.

I grab the top letter of the stack and neatly open it. A glance at the paper tells me that it is from Y/N, dated four years ago.

Aaron,

I don’t have words that will ever truly tell you what I feel.

How could you do this to me? To us? I’ve spent the last year falling a little bit more in love with you every day. And I love Jack as if he was mine. He feels like he is.

But you threw that all away. You told me I deserved something, someONE, better and then walked away with my heart.

You are the sun to my moon. How in the hell am I supposed to be me without the biggest part of me?

I hate what you did. I hate that I can’t make myself go into work because I’m afraid that I might run into you. I fucking work in an entirely different unit, on a completely different floor, and yet, your presence hangs over that building like a shadow.

I hate that I let myself become someone who didn’t know who they were without their partner. I hate that I’m constantly looking at the door, hoping you’ll walk back into my apartment, pull me into one of those bear hugs I love, and tell me it was all a mistake and you’ll never leave again. But the thing that I hate most is that I am still in love with you. That’s what I hate the most.

You ripped my heart out and walked away, leaving me a blubbering mess.

How could I ever forgive you?

Y/N

The letter leaves me breathless. She never told me how she felt during that almost two-month break. And I can’t believe that I ever let her feel that way.

It takes me less than a second to rip open the next letter, much more destructively than I had the first.

Aaron,

It hurts so bad. I feel like I’m slowly dying and I can’t bring myself to care. It’s like I was flying and then you brought me crashing to the ground. Hard.

Whenever you speak, I hang on to every word, as if I was drowning and your words could save me. Well, I’d do anything not to have clung so tightly as you ripped my buoy out from under me and let me drown.

That’s what I’m doing, drowning.

How can I ever live life without you, when I know how good it was with you?

I know it’s all cliches, but that’s how you make me feel. Like a protagonist at the end of a cheesy rom-com, running away with my prince to live happily ever after, except I don’t get my happy ending.

Gosh, it hurts so bad, the pain of losing you. You were my everything and it turns out, I was more of your nothing.

She didn’t sign her name at the bottom of this one. Combining that with the dried, smeared ink on the page and it becomes apparent that she was crying so hard that she couldn’t finish.

A lump settles in my throat, making it hard to breathe as the guilt consumes me. I’m slower this time, as I move to grab another one, afraid of finding out how much I truly hurt her.

Aaron,

I miss you.

And I will always love you.

And if I can’t make you as happy as you make me, then, as much as it will hurt me, I hope you find someone who will.

With love always

Although this one is short, the profoundness of what was written is clear.

She had been willing to give up if she knew I wasn’t happy with her, no matter how much it hurt her.

I open another, ready to see more of what she wrote in these letters.

Aaron,

The past couple of nights I have been having the same dream.

It starts normally. I’m in the kitchen, making breakfast on what I assume is a Saturday morning. Jack comes barreling into the room, excited to help make pancakes. You come in a short while later, much slower and quieter than the first Hotchner did.

In your arms is our four-month-old son, whom you had grabbed from the nursery on your way downstairs. Jack is rambling about a dream he had as he starts pouring a bag of chocolate chips into the pancake batter. I smile at you, which you return with a silent ‘I love you.’

The scene changes and instead of being in the kitchen with the three of you, I am in my bed, waking up to light shining through the crack between the curtains. I roll to my right to find another person in the bed with me.

At first, I think it’s you, with the dark head of hair peeking out from under the quilt. I move my hand to trail through it, realizing it is not you. At all.

My hand, which I had quickly removed upon coming to the realization it wasn’t you, causes the person next to me to stir and turn over, revealing someone nondescript, someone who wasn’t you. I scramble out of the bed, finding that this isn’t the home that I had just been in with you and Jack and our new son.

I scramble towards the door and fly down the hallway, only stopping to open the doors along the way. None of the rooms I open have any evidence of you or Jack existing. There are no pictures, no children’s toys, no red ties casually strewn across the back of the vanity chair, no case files scattered on a bedside table, nothing.

I soon come to the realization that you don’t exist in this version of my life, which absolutely breaks me. I can’t even imagine a life where I didn’t have you or Jack at least as friends.

I couldn’t be happy in this version of my life and I know it. That’s what makes this dream a nightmare. The fact that it shows me what my life could very much end up like if I don’t fight for you, or for Jack.

I don’t want to share my life with anyone but you Aaron. Forget the idea of ‘you deserve someone better’. That doesn’t matter to me because all I want is you. YOU are perfect. YOU make me a better person. YOU make me want to strive for a life full of laughter and love.

No one but you.

Y/N

This letter truly makes me realize what could have happened had Y/N not come to my door, had she not fought for our relationship, for me.

I reach for another one, but just as my fingers grasp it, I hear a car pull up in the driveway. A glance out the window tells me it’s Y/N and Jack.

I set down everything that had been in my lap while I was on the floor and hurry down the stairs to the kitchen. I manage to beat you there and I lean back against the kitchen island as I wait.

Jack comes rushing into the room and excitedly starts telling me about his play date. I admit I was only listening half-heartedly as I watch Y/N enter the kitchen. She has several different bags in her hands, yet she doesn’t seem to be struggling.

I listen to Jack for a while longer before I send him to pick up his room. Although Jack’s room wasn’t the neatest, I mostly sent him there to get a moment alone with Y/N, who had just returned from our bedroom after dropping off her shopping bags.

I stand fully and call out softly across the kitchen. “Come here, Y/N.” I open my arms up, inviting her in for a hug.

She doesn’t even question my request. Rather, she sets down the knife she was using to prep for dinner and steps into my embrace.

I pull her as close to me as I can, wrapping one arm around her waist and another up to pull her head into my chest.

I simply hold her, the feelings that came when reading those letters rising and falling within me. I don’t know how to bring up what was in those letters, but I know I have to. Not only because me reading them was a violation of her privacy, but also because what she wrote about in those letters was something I had never known about, something she never talked about with me.

“Y/N,” I murmur as I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes, her Y/E/C that always seemed to pull me in. “I found the letters you wrote and put in the attic.”

As I watch her, I can see the moment she realizes exactly what I am talking about. Her eyes widen and she moves back a step. She opens her mouth to respond, but I place a gentle hand on her face.

“I never realized how I had made you feel. I always thought that I was doing what was best for you. You didn’t deserve a man who works all the time, who can’t leave the job at the office, who brought home the darkness and evil he saw every day. I thought you deserved better than that.” I pause, brushing away the lone tear that was trailing down her face.

“I realize now though, that despite what my intentions were, I still hurt you. And it kills me that I can’t go back and take that hurt away or keep myself from doing what I did.” I step closer to her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“What I can do is promise you that I will never let you feel that way again. I promise you that I’ll tell you how much I love you and how important you are to me everyday.” I finish my impromptu speech, watching her as she looks at me.

She doesn’t say anything for a while, which honestly scares me. But then she is throwing her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her lips.

The kiss is hard and short before she puts her head on my chest. “Thank you Aaron. I know what I said in those letters and a lot of it came from deep down in me.” She presses a kiss to my t-shirt covered chest. “And to me, you’re perfect. You always have been and you always will.”

A feeling of contentment and happiness bubbles in my chest. And I know that whatever happens, as long as I have her by my side, I’ll be able to get through it.

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years

Text

Day 1 - The Great Candy Cane Disaster

synopsis: Malfoy gets you in trouble so you decide to get back at him but things go a little too far

pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (if you squint)

Words: 2.6k+

A/n - We’re kicking off the first day of my advent calendar with something centered around Draco Malfoy.

Warnings - Swearing

"They look ridiculous," Malfoy muses as you add the final ingredient to your forgetfulness potion.

"They look fine," You roll your eyes, utterly fed up with the boy. Sometimes you wished he'd simply keep his comments to himself. "I wanted to look festive but I have to wear my uniform so antlers were the next best thing."

"They look stupid," He repeats. You adjust the reindeer antlers that sit upon your head like a silent protest.

"Will you just try the potion please?"

"No, why don't you do it?" He bites back, you swear he's being difficult on purpose just to get under your skin. When it came to potions class, you often found yourself paired with Malfoy. On the odd occasions, he was relatively helpful but sometimes he was the exact opposite.

"I did most of the work so you have to try it." You risk pushing the potion cauldron a little, watching the liquid inside almost swish over the edge; that would be the last thing you need in Snape's class.

"I do hope that amongst all this arguing, you managed to finish your potion." Snape's dull voice ringed in your ear."

"Of course Professor," Malfoy recites as professor Snape approaches your table. "she was just about to test it out."

You want to protest but you know better. It's probably just land you in trouble, so you reluctantly pick up a glass vile "fine," and plunge it into the orange potion. You take the smallest of sips. "So, Uh... what were we talking about again?"

"Next time, you two should refrain from shouting across my classroom"

"Yes Professor," you both reply.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

"Wait why?" You question quickly, brows furrowed.

"Careful now, or I'll make it ten." You can hear Malfoy's little snicker beside you as you watch Snape walk away to inspect somebody else's work.

By the time lunch came around, you were utterly fed up with the day. Slumping down at the Gryffindor table, you let out a dramatic sigh suggesting you wanted someone to ask what was wrong. Nobody did. So you sigh again.

"I can't believe you lost us house points," Hermione scolds as if she hasn't done it before. It wasn't a big deal. "why can't you be more responsible."

"You try being partners with Malfoy," you grumble, as you take a couple of sandwiches and place them on your plate. "And besides, Snape was totally unfair."

"Honestly, everyone knows Snape favours Slytherin so you have to be more careful." Hermione was right about that. It was clear Snape favoured his own house and was especially harsh when it came to Gryffindors. Why he hated you so much was unclear but it was something you had come to terms with.

"Gosh it was only ten points, it's not the end of the world Hermione." You take a bite of your sandwich. "Enough about that- I need your help."

"With what?" She asks, bringing her goblet of juice to her lips.

"Learning the duplication spell? It never seems to work for me."

"Why?"

You simply shrug. "If I knew why, I wouldn't ask for help,"

"No- I mean why do you want help with it? You never normally want to study outside of class."

You'd laugh if it wasn't true. Studying, for the most part, wasn't your favourite thing to do and much like Ron, you tended to avoid it as much as possible. You were by no means a bad student, just not as good as Hermione for example. "You're always telling me I should get ahead of my studies and not leave everything to the last minute, Hermione, I'm just trying to be a good student."

For a moment, you think she's seen through your lie but she just smiles a little before pushing her plate to the middle of the table. "Fine. I have to head to the library and get a few books but I'll meet you in the common room later and we can go over it."

"Great," and with that Hermione leaves you with the boys to finish up lunch.

"So tell the truth then," Ron perks up, his mouth full of food.

"Huh?"

"We all know you're not suddenly a model student," he continues. "so why do you suddenly want help with a spell?"

"People can change, Ronald." Hermione always called him that.

"I don't believe that for a minute,"

"Ron's right," Harry agreed. "You once said you wouldn't be caught dead in the library. That doesn't sound like model student behaviour."

"Blasphemy," You state dramatically slapping your hand against the table.

Ron chuckles a little. "Tell us. We won't tell Hermione."

"Fine," You could trust them enough not to keep your secret; they'd proven that value before. "I want to enchant an object and give it to Malfoy."

"Hermione isn't going to like that you're using a spell to get back at Malfoy-" Ron warns with the most playful of smiles. "I can't wait to tell her."

"You just said you wouldn't," you huff, tossing a piece of bread in Ron's direction. "It's just a harmless prank."

"He's messing with you," Harry adds.

"Malfoy's leaving- I'll be right back," you jump up sharply. "Don't head back without me."

Charging over to the Slytherin table, you find Pansy just as she's finishing up. "Great, what do you want?"

"So volatile," you tease. "I need a favour."

"Ha! that's likely," Pansy Parkinson was not your friend. Everyone knew that. In fact, she actively chose to hate on you every moment she got. You liked to think it was just a complicated relationship with one of the biggest bullies in school.

"Can we... talk in private,"

Taking her arm, you drag her out of the great hall as she struggles in your grip. "What do you want?"

"A favour." You repeat. You need Pansy on board or your plan wouldn't work. You weren't close enough to Malfoy, nor did you have access to the Slytherin common room. Pansy did and she was not against breaking the rules.

"Tough luck," she spits, turning sharply on her heel but you reach out to grab her before she can leave.

"Please Pansy,"

"What's in it for me?"

Uh... you hadn't planned that far ahead. "My love and friendship?"

She chokes out a laugh. "Pass."

"Fine, I'll do whatever you want,"

"Whatever I want?" The was a degree of intrigue in her voice as she turned back around that made you worry about her upcoming demand.

"I mean... I'm not gonna like murder someone but you get the idea."

"Do all my Christmas break homework?"

"You can't be serious?" You got enough homework on an average day never mind during the holidays. It was like the professors deliberately didn't want you to have fun. "We've already been set like two essays and-"

"Take it or leave it," she interrupts, a malicious grin graced her beautiful features.

You groan loudly. You didn't really have much choice and she was holding all the cards here. "Fine- okay, I'll do al your homework."

"So, what do you want me to do then?" She wonders, pulling out of your grip.

"I need you to sneak me into the Slytherin common room."

"Is that all?" She raises a brow. "That's easy enough- When?"

"Couple days. I have to prepare first."

"Kay-" Without another word, Pansy turns on her heel and enters the great hall. Guess the conversation was over then. You may now be lumbered with way more homework than you cared to think about but at least she agreed. Heading back to the table, Ron is somehow still eating.

"What was that about?" Harry questions before you can even sit back down.

"Since when you and Parkinson friends?" Ron adds.

"We're not. I'm pretty sure she hates me." You shrug, finishing off your drink. "I needed her help but I had to wait until Malfoy wasn't around"

"Sounds like more effort than it's worth." Ron was more right then he would ever know.

"We should go. We have charms soon."

Classes were relatively easier towards the end of the year excluding any tests but the days still felt way too long. That evening you're sat on the floor beside the roaring reds and oranges of the fire. Hermione is sat across from you with a neat stack of papers and an array of books. Ron and Harry are chatting on the couch just within earshot.

"No offence, Hermione but why do I have to know the entire history of the spell to use it?"

"You wanted my help, didn't you?"

You sigh softly listening to her entire lecture with forged interest. When she's finally stopped telling you about the twins who created the spell, she placed a small leather-bound book on the floor between you; pulling out her wand. "Before you begin, you want to be sure of exactly how many copies you wish to make otherwise it can become uncontrollable," Hermione explains. "Only the caster can stop the uncontrollable duplication." Waving her wand she gently tapped the book. "Geminio." The book shook a little before splitting into two identical books side by side.

"And this spell works on anything?"

"To a degree. Keep in mind while they are identical, the other copy is considered worthless as after a while it'll start to degrade. So you give it a try,"

You pull out your wand and with a flick. "Geminio." Nothing happened. So you try again.

"juh-MIN-ee-oh," Hermione corrects your pronunciation slowly. "And don't flourish your wand so much. Just a smooth and simple flick," she readies her wand and flicks. "Geminio."

The book splits into another. Show off.

You flick your wand "Geminio." Again nothing happens.

"You're not very good at this," Ron teases from the side.

Hermione takes your wand hand in hers. "Let's try together, okay, ready?" You nod a little. Hermione guides your hand. "Geminio." You both say together and this time the book splits. You smile brightly.

"It worked!"

"Good job."

"Now I can put my plan in motion."

"What plan? I thought you just wanted help with your studies?"

"Oh- yes, that's what I meant." Her eyes narrow in and you offer an innocent smile. "Well, I'm off to bed- Good night."

It's a couple of days before you decide to finally get back at Malfoy. That time was mostly spent in classes and practising the spell. While everyone else is distracted having dinner, you follow Pansy through the halls of Hogwarts and down to the dungeons.

"So why are you doing this?" She asks but she doesn't sound too interested in an actual answer.

"Malfoy got me in trouble and I wish to share the Christmas spirit."

"By giving him... a candy cane?"

"Yeah," Your smile brightens. "Candy canes are the perfect Christmas treat. He has to be the one to touch it okay? No one else or it'll ruin it."

"Weird." She seems suspicious. "But fine. You're still doing all my homework."

"Yes. I know." You roll your eyes. Every time you've spoken to her in the past few days she's mentioned her homework. Stepping into the Slytherin common room felt weird; you don't know what you were expecting it to look like. You guess you just imagined them all to look the same but in different colours however, that was certainly not the case. It was... darker in here somewhat creepier.

"Then I'll make sure he's the one to get it."

"Promise?"

"Just leave before I call Snape."

"Alright, alright, Thanks for this."

Sneaking out the Slytherin common room, you head back to the great hall as if nothing had happened. Joining Harry, Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

"Where have you been?" Hermione quickly asks and your mind draws a blank.

"Huh- oh! I wasn't hungry but now I am- So what did I miss?"

"Nothing really," Harry shrugs.

"Hermione was lecturing us," Ron follows up.

"Sounds about right," you chuckle.

It's hard to pay attention as you wait for Malfoy to finish his dinner. Staring intensely at the Slytherin table; only catching bits and pieces of the conversation happening around you. When you notice Malfoy leaving, you sit up a little straighter.

"What are you looking at?" Hermione clicks before your eyes, drawing your attention back.

"...nothing,"

"Do you fancy Malfoy or something?"

"What?" You turn to her, completely shocked and sort of offended. You and Malfoy would be a... weird combination to say the least. "No. Don't be silly."

"You have been staring at him since sitting down," Ron adds, a smirk on his lips. He knew exactly why you were distracted so his comment was just to rile you up.

"I don't fancy him- shut up." You growl back. "I'm heading back to the common room."

"I think I'll come too," Hermione stated, clearing up the almost none existent mess she had made. LI wanna do a little reading before bed."

You offer a small smile. If you say no, she'll be suspicious so you kind of just have to go along with it. Harry and Ron end up joining you. The halls are pretty empty as the four of you head back, it was still pretty early to be fair. You're idly chatting away to Hermione when you hear your name echo through the hallway. While taking note of it, you choose to ignore it and continue walking but then it happens again. Louder this time. You grab Hermione and Ron, by the wrists and pull them a little faster. "Hurry up,"

"What why?" Hermione protests pulling out of your grip.

"Because."

"Stop!" You know the voice belongs to Malfoy; it's hard to miss. When you finally turn around to look, you see him charging towards you looking very angry. "What can I do for you Malfoy?" You ask innocently, putting on your best smile but he doesn't stop. You back up until you're against a wall and he is standing before you. It doesn't seem like the time but still, you reach up and pull a candy cane that seems to be stuck to his best. "Didn't know you liked candy canes so much. Saving this one for later were we?"

He doesn't see the funny side. "I know it was you,"

"I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Leave her alone, Malfoy." Hermione defends, walking up behind him.

"Yeah shove off," Ron growls.

"You're not funny," the Slytherin snaps, taking a step back and taking your wrist. "You either come with me or I tell Snape that you filled the room with candy canes."

"How could I do that? I can't even get in the Slytherin common room."

"Your name was on the card."

"Is that why you wanted to learn the Geminio charm?" Busted.

"I used the Geminio spell on a candy cane so when Malfoy picked it up, they would start multiplying." You admit.

"We can't get it to stop."

"How is that my problem," you protest as he tries to drag you along with him.

"Did you remember to set an amount?"

"Uh... I knew I forgot something."

As much as you struggle you do end up going with Draco. He doesn’t say anything the entire way but his grip suggests that he's still very angry and as the door opens and some candy canes spill out, you realise you may have gone a little too far. You had originally expected a hundred copies or so but this was way more and they didn't seem to be stopping as they spilt out onto the corridor.

"Well... Shit. Probably should have brought Hermione with us."

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #Harry Potter #draco malfoy imagine

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sillyrabbit81 · 4 years

Text

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.6k

Warnings: smut, swearing, Dom vibes, dirty talk

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 14 Part 16

Part 15

After lunch, Liam took me on a tour of his house. We skipped the ground floor as I had already seen pretty much everything.

The first floor was a complete mystery to me. First, Liam showed me his study. It had two desks; on one, Liam had a fancy-looking PC, the other had a laptop and scripts and other paperwork scattered around. It had a large built-in bookcase with only a few books in it, most of them mine. I frowned at this. For an avid reader, he had a small collection. There was also a tiny bathroom, a guest bedroom which Liam says sometimes Ryan stays in.

The last room was a cinema room, all painted black with three rows of reclining chairs set on raised platforms with a projector screen. "This is fantastic," I said. There were cupboards, also black to store discs. When I opened them, I saw Liam's movie collection was also surprisingly bare. "For someone in the film industry, you don't have a lot of movies."

"I do, but most of them are back in London. It's the same thing with all my books and half my wardrobe. I don't know how long I'll be here. If the show is a success and gets picked up for another series, I might ship some of it here."

I let his words sink in. I don't know why, but it never really occurred to me that he may pick up and leave in six months. I felt myself close up and shut down. Regret started to set in. I tried to ignore it and tell myself to cross that bridge when the time comes. I forced a smile as I closed the cupboards and said to Liam, "What's next?"

We went up to the second floor. Liam's bedroom was there with another two bedrooms and a sitting room. The final floor was where the real master bedroom was. It had the gorgeous bathroom we were in last night and a huge bedroom that took up nearly the whole space. It had an even bigger wardrobe than Liam's, split in two with distinct areas for each partner. The bedroom had its own lounge area, and the whole room was arranged like a hotel suite complete with en-suite balcony and city views. It was exceptional. I was so blown away by the house, mansion really, that for a while, I forgot to worry about the future.

"Why didn't you use this as your bedroom? It's amazing."

Liam shrugged. "I did when I first moved in. But it was too big for just me. I felt lonely up here, and it was that bit harder for Cole to come and see me. I almost moved down to the first-floor bedroom, but it doesn't have a dressing room, so I went to the one I'm in now. What do you think?"

I was leaning on the balcony railing, looking towards the city. The trees were a colourful mix of green, red and gold. A few were starting to lose their leaves. It was so pretty. I felt Liam come up behind me and wrap his arms around me. He put his chin on my shoulder, and we both looked out towards the city. "Of the house? It's amazing. I don't know how else to describe it. I mean, it's a bit much for me. I'd cry if I had to clean it. But I assume you have cleaners?" Liam nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't live in a place this big without a cleaner."

"I'm glad you like it. I want you to be comfortable when you come over."

I interlaced my fingers with his and held them against my belly. "I'm definitely comfortable right now." We stood there for a while and relaxed into each other. Thoughts of Liam leaving reared it's ugly head a few times, but I ignored it. Instead, I focused on now. All I could do was enjoy the time I had with Liam and make the best of it.

Soon the wind started to pick up, and I grew cold. Liam took me back inside.

"I've got to work out for a bit," Liam said as we took the stairs down. "Do you think you can keep yourself occupied for an hour or so?"

"I could join you if you want? I didn't go to the gym yesterday so I could do with some exercise."

"Yeah, ok, let do it."

Liam went into his dressing room, and I changed in his room. I put on a pair of white and black ankle grazer tights and a white sports bra. I felt good in it and knew I looked good too. I went over to the chair to put my shoes and socks on and caught Liam looking through the door.

He was dressed already in shorts and a singlet. Guys always seem to get dressed so quickly. It takes me ages to dress unless I'm in a rush. Liam leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me. I ignored him as I did my shoes up.

"You look good in that." He said. I caught myself straightening my back, and a warm tingle flowed through me. I liked his little compliments.

"Thanks," I said, getting up. I put my hair in a ponytail, deliberately sticking my chest out as I did.

"Is that what you normally wear to the gym?"

"I usually wear a singlet over the top."

"But not today?" A smile spread over his face.

I smiled and said airily, "Nope, not today."

"I know what you're doing, Sweetheart." He walked past me, patting my bottom as he did. I tried to look innocent. "Come on. Let's go."

Liam put some music on and got started. Cole heard the music and came in, plopping himself on his mat in the corner. I blocked both of them out as much as I could and focused on the music. I was not going to get caught looking at Liam. I was going to make him look at me.

I got on the bike to do a bit of cardio. After warming up, I spent 10 minutes doing some interval training and worked up a decent sweat. I went over to the barbell, removed several weights, muttering "fucking hero" under my breath. I started my weights with a few sets of deadlifts. I noticed Liam in the corner of my eye with a kettlebell. He was sweaty too and looked amazing doing his lifts, but I pulled my eyes away. He was watching me. Good. I tried hard to keep the smirk off my face, but it was bloody difficult.

I focussed on my next exercise. I changed the weight again for the overhead press. These were hard for me, as my upper body was weaker than my lower body. I did these as quickly as possible because I hated them and only did them now because I knew they would drive Liam to distraction.

I did some goblet squats with a dumbbell before moving to my favourite, the weighted hip thrust. I got the barbell again, sat with my back against a bench, and brought the barbell to my hips. I planted my feet, and exhaling, I leaned back onto the bench, squeezing my glutes until my upper body and hips are straight. Then I lowered and exhaled again and repeated the exercise. When I had finished the set, I lowered myself to the floor and rested.

"Do you do that at the gym?" Liam asked.

I didn't look at him, knowing I would smile if I did. "Yeah. Why? Am I doing it wrong?" I knew full well I was doing it right.

"No, your form is lovely," I ordered myself not to blush. Liam paused and asked, "Are there men at your gym?" Got him.

"Yeah, it's usually 75% men."

"Lucky bastards." I looked at him and giggled. I wanted to smack myself. I was trying to be sexy, not a fucking child. He was sitting on a bench press. His legs were on either side of the bench, and his elbows rested on his knees. He was still sweating, his curls plastered to his forehead. His arms glistened. I wanted him to fuck me so badly.

Composing myself, I said. "I have another set to do."

"I'm finished." He said, "Go ahead. I'll wait."

I got back into position and repeated the set. When I finished, I lowered myself back to the floor. Liam asked. "Done yet?" Liam was standing now. He had moved closer and had his hands on his hips.

"One more." I was excited. My heart rate was raised, not just from the exercise.

Liam growled impatiently.

I started my last set, and my body was trembling. I didn't know if I could do the full set. I was too excited, too turned on. Liam entered my field of vision, watching me as I worked. I wasn't going to be able to do it with him watching. I closed my eyes, found my focus, and continued.

As I finished and rolled the barbell away, Liam lifted it and put it away. I laid down on my back and stretched out my muscles.

Liam stood over me. "You did that on purpose." It wasn't a question.

Still trying to play innocent, I said, "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just working out."

"Get up."

"I'm stretching."

"You're done. Get up."

I smiled at him and put my hand out. "Help me up?"

He grasped my hand and lifted me. He pulled me close and kissed me hard. "You're a fucking tease." He said. He didn't let me go. He held me tighter, his hand resting on my arse.

I started to protest that I didn't know what he was talking about, but he spanked me and said. "Don't deny it." He said, lifting me and wrapping my legs around his waist. "You know you were trying to get me hard." I could feel him against me. It had worked. "Since it worked, you can deal with it." His voice had taken on the gravelly tone he used when he was turned-on. It thrilled me. I put my arms around Liam's neck. Kissing me again, he walked out of the room. His lips tasted salty as I kissed him back.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"I'm giving you what you want. I'm going to fuck you."

"I didn't say that I wanted that," I said. Oh, but I did want that.

"You didn't have to," Liam said. He pushed me against the wall in the elevator as he pressed the button. "You know what to say if you want me to stop." He looked me in the eyes, "Anytime you want me to stop, I will. Don't hesitate or do anything you don't want to." I nodded to show him I understood. "Good."

When the lift opened, he took me to the bathroom we had used last night. I chuckled when I saw his clothes were still in a pile on the floor. He had let the water out of the bath and replaced my robe.

Liam took me over to the shower. "Shoes off," he said, and I took my shoes and socks off while he did the same. "Let your hair down." I pulled the band out and shook my hair until the curls fell around my shoulders. "Take your pants off." I lowered my tights slowly and stepped out of them. Liam did the same I could see how hard he was now. He continued to tell me to undress as he did the same until we both stood, our bodies bare.

He was beautiful standing there naked and hard. His arms looked more impressive than usual because of his work out. I wanted to touch him. I stepped closer to him and put my hand on his bicep. I felt my way up his arm, over his shoulder and across his collarbone. I stood on my toes to kiss his neck while I felt his chest. I reached my hands around his back and pressed myself against him. "Get in," he said. "Hurry."

I let him go and got into the shower. The temperature was perfect, and I let the water run all over me. I ran my hands through my hair to make sure it was all wet before turning around and facing Liam. He turned me around until I met the wall and used his body to shepherd me until my whole body was against it.

The tiles were cold, instantly making my nipples grow hard and tingly, sending ripples of pleasure down to my sex. My arms were pulled behind my back, elbows bent and forearms next to each other. Liam's body pushed into me, holding them there. In this position, I was helpless, and at his will, he could do what he wanted. It excited me. My whole centre throbbed. I wanted him. He was taking too long.

Liam's knees forced my legs apart, and I could feel my slick arousal on my thighs. He tilted my hips so my bottom jutted out. I thought of how I must look, arse out, legs apart, arms behind my back with my breasts and face pushed into the wall, his huge body covering mine. He leaned his head on the tiles next to mine, and his teeth nipped at my ear. I shivered in pleasure, in desperation and need.

I cried out in shock and relief as I felt Liam's fingers reaching around and parting my slit. "Fuck," he growled into my ear. "You feel so fucking good." He found my clit and played with me.

I cried out. I was so aroused I was almost too sensitive for his touch to feel good. I tried to pull away, but Liam's hold was firm. His fingers followed my every movement, not willing to let go until their mission was complete. He kissed and bit my neck and shoulders, adding more sensations to my already overwhelmed body. I didn't think I'd be able to take it.

Then it felt good, better than good, and I was able to stay still and let him have me. Liam's fingers danced over me. My cries quickened, and my body felt tight. I knew my climax was fast approaching.

Liam knew too. "Are you going to cum, Lana?" He stopped kissing me and watched my face. I couldn't say anything. I was too strung out, too close. I nodded as best I could. Liam put his hand into my hair and pulled my head back.

"After you cum I'm going to stick my cock into your tight wet pussy and fuck you until I cum. Is that what you wanted, Lana? Is that what you wanted when you got dressed in your skin-tight clothes? When you wore that bra that pushed your perky little tits together? When you lifted those weights, and I had to watch you thrust your arse and hips around? Is this what you wanted?" I tied to say yes, but instead, I came undone.

Liam kissed me, his mouth consuming me, his tongue owning my mouth as little aftershocks rippled through me. He took what little breath I had, and I was left gasping. The sound of the shower was suddenly thunderous in my ears as my senses returned. The stream of water was hot against my cooling skin, but it felt good. I was still gasping when I felt Liam's cock at my entrance. He stood up straight, releasing my hair and arms. Although they ached, I put my arms against the wall to brace for what I knew was to come.

His hands steadied my hips as his cock parted me, opening me up to him. I heard him groan as he entered me. I was tight from my orgasm, but I was so wet and relaxed he slid in quickly. His size stretched me until I was full, and he had sheathed himself completely. He wasted no time and immediately ploughed into me. Each thrust was rough, almost reaching the point of painful, but always just shy. I pushed back into him, arching my back further to give his movements more room.

His fingers dug deep into my hips as he forced them back to meet his. Each push seemed to elicit a deep exhale from Liam's throat, a growl that grew more shallow with each moment. I heard him bellow as his hands reached up for my shoulders. He pulled my shoulders down as he pushed so hard into me, I thought I would split in two. He held me there for a moment as he let go into me, and I cried out, unsure if it hurt or felt like heaven. I felt him release inside me, pulling me down while he pushed into me. I almost cried no more, but it would have been a lie because the hurt was too sweet.

Liam's head lulled onto my back as he released my shoulders and regained his breath. He lifted his head to turn me around. With my back against the tiles, he once more leaned into me, this time just to hold me, his head buried in my neck. I held him to me, wanting his comfort, and he kissed my neck softly, moving up to my face and kissing my lips.

He was smiling as he brushed my hair off my face. Then he moved me under the water. He found the body wash, couldn't find a sponge or anything so he just used his hands to wash me. He ran his hands all over my body, and it felt heavenly. He rubbed my shoulders, massaging deep into me, his thumbs moving so deeply they almost hurt. Any tension I had left fell away, and I felt light and free. He gave himself a quick wash before he stepped out and brought me a robe and slipped one on himself.

"Finally, you decide to cover up," I said as I watched him use a towel to dry his hair. His curls were a cute little mess on his head almost fluffing up like a duckling.

"Yeah, righto mate." He said, using my slang back at me.

I laughed. "Seems I'll make an Aussie out of you yet."

"Pull your head in," Liam said, complete with a halfway decent accent.

"What the hell? I don't think I've told you that one!"

Liam smiled and kissed me on the nose. "That one I learned from Boyd."

"Who's Boyd?"

"Boyd McCarthy. He is going to play my best friend. He's helped me out with a few phrases. However, I don't entirely trust him. He tried to get me to believe in drop bears."

"I like him already," I said as I gathered my clothes.

"Well, you'll meet him on Thursday."

"I still don't know what to wear to that."

Liam had his clothes, and we went downstairs. "I can take you shopping tomorrow if you'd like."

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Usually, high-end fashion boutiques or department stores."

I thought for a minute. We had arrived in the bedroom, and Liam went into his dressing room.

"Ok. I think a department store. They will have everything I need, shoes and a bag. We won't have to go to a million places."

"If you want to go to a few boutiques as well, I don't mind. We can take as long as you want."

I shook my head. "I don't like clothes shopping. I order most of my stuff online. I'd rather spend a day online shopping than dealing with crowds in shopping centres. I'm only agreeing to go into a shop because I have no idea what's in fashion or if I enough time to get the right dress online." I looked at my bag, "Hey Liam, what are we doing for dinner? Are we staying in?"

"What does it look like?" Liam came out in his tracksuit pants.

"Fair enough, tracky dacks it is."

Part 16

#original character #original fiction #romantic story #happy ever after

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