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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 3 years

Text

Your Otaku

Leviathan x poly gn!MC x Mammon

Words - 2818

Content Warnings - panic attacks, lots of angst, but lots of cuddles too (mostly focused on the relationship between Levi & MC)

Prompt/Inspiration - loosely inspired by the “Ruri-chan is my Bae!” event (and I mean loose)

Summary - You, Levi, and Mammon take a trip to the human realm together, and things take a sudden turn for the worse.

AO3

Arm in arm with Mammon, you walked through the convention center with Levi chattering excitedly at your side. You had managed to surprise him with a trip to the human realm to visit a popular anime convention, and he was just beside himself with excitement. The pure joy was practically radiating off him.

“That Q&A was amazing! Omg I never thought I’d get to see them so close. And they actually looked at me! Can you believe it? I know they were looking at me. There was a connection. I just felt it!”

His eyes were glued to the map in front of him, and only occasionally did you have to tug on his sleeve a bit to keep him from bumping into people. He started making plans about where you three should head to next, and come up with a strategy for maximizing the amount of limited edition merchandise he could acquire. He’d need your help obviously. And Mammon’s too. He only had so many arms after all, and as much as he wished he could stand in line for each item himself, he knew he had to be smart about this.

“So, we are gonna meet back up here in an hour, ok?” he said, “Set an alarm so you don’t get distracted and forget the time.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Got it. One hour,” Mammon replied. He wouldn’t admit it, but the idea of scoring limited edition merchandise actually had him rather excited. Perhaps he could grab a couple extra copies so he could resell them later? These nerds sure seemed desperate for these things, so he figured they’d sell like hot cakes and he’d be swimming in money in no time.

The three of you separated and went your different ways to go wait in line. You glanced at the shopping list Levi had given you. It was decorated with little doodles of Azuki-tan, color coded, and organized by priority. You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Levi working diligently to prepare this for you. You knew Mammon had one as well, but it definitely had way fewer hearts and stickers attached to it.

After an hour of line hopping, waiting, and more waiting, your DDD vibrated signaling it was time to meet up with your boys again and see how successful everyone had been. You glanced around and noticed Mammon right away. His face lit up when he saw you, and you returned his smile with one of your own. His arms were full of way more bags than you knew he needed.

“Did you get enough?” you teased, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“Oi! This is all Levi’s stuff remember? I might’ve grabbed a couple extras to make some quick Grimm, but most of this is his!” As much as he tried to deny it, you knew that less than half of those bags were for Levi, and you also knew that only a third were things he had intended to resell. You noticed some TSL merchandise peeking out from one bag that you were positive Mammon bought just for himself.

“Ok, let’s go with that,” you replied, still laughing. Mammon blushed, realizing he had been caught. He should have known better. You always seemed to see right through him. He was thankful you had decided to keep it to yourself though and let him at least pretend you didn’t notice.

CRASH

You snapped your head up and looked in the direction of the loud noise - the same direction you were supposed to be heading. It was only a moment later that you could hear the sound of laughter break out, and you had a sinking feeling that Levi was involved somehow. You didn’t even bother explaining to Mammon what you were thinking, you didn’t need to, you just walked as quickly as you could through the crowded pathways just short of breaking into a full out sprint.

What you saw when you arrived at the meetup spot made your heart ache. Levi was sitting on the ground, on his knees, and scattered around him were what you could only assume were the bags of merchandise he had been carrying. His eyes were laser focused on the objects in front of him as he attempted to gather everything up and put it back into his bags.

Behind him, only a few yards away, stood a group of teenage boys that were cackling as they looked on. It didn’t take you long to piece together what must have happened - Levi had been in a hurry, and the boys knocked him down, causing him to crash into a display, and sending his things flying.

You could catch bits and pieces of their conversation over the laughter and buzz of the convention center. “Loser.” “Weeb.” “Freak.” It made your blood boil. You wanted nothing more than to march over there and deliver a swift kick in the groin to all of them, but you had something much more important to do.

Not wasting anytime, you made your way to Levi, gathering things up as you went. You crouched down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey babe,” you said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek lightly. You knew he didn’t like public displays of affection, but it was the only thing you could think to do to get him to shift his attention to you rather than his surroundings.

It seemed to work, for a moment at least. Levi turned to look at you, shocked to find you suddenly so close, but relieved all the same. You gave him a small smile, and rubbed his back. You could see he was struggling to keep his composure and not shift into his demon form in the middle of all these people. It was also obvious that he was only moments away from crying.

“C’mon, let’s go find somewhere to take a break,” you said, picking up the last of his bags yourself and rising to your feet. Levi gave a small nod and stood up as well, careful to keep his eyes trained on the ground in front of him. He dare not look around. He could feel the eyes of everyone boring into his back, and their whispers echoed in his ears. Freak. Loser. Weirdo. Creep.

He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself. He just wanted to take off running, but he knew it would only make things worse. He’d probably fall again like the loser that he was. He really should have stayed home. Why in hell did he let you convince him to go out today? If he was in his room right now like he should be, none of this would have happened. He was an otaku after all, and this was clearly divine punishment of some kind for him venturing out of his cave.

Mammon soon appeared beside you, “Hey! Ya can’t go takin’ off like that! What if somethin’ woulda happened to…” His voice trailed off as he became aware of his surroundings and noticed the group of teenagers standing a ways away. Their attention had now moved to you, and they were whispering rather loudly amongst themselves, and Mammon did not like the look in their eyes as they stared at you.

He looked back to you and Levi and realized just how shaken up his brother seemed. He could feel the waves of demonic energy rolling off him as he struggled to keep it together.

“Hey, I got this,” he said, moving to take the bags from your hands, “Y’all go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a bit.”

You gave Mammon a small nod, before linking arms with Levi and leading him away. He walked forward, robotically, no longer the bouncing, happy go lucky boyfriend you had seen just a mere hour ago. How quickly things had changed.

You felt so guilty for leaving him alone. You should have stayed with him. You knew he didn’t like crowds. Or people. If you had stopped to think for a moment you would have realized that it would have been better for you all to stick together. But you had let yourself get caught up in Levi’s excitement, and convinced yourself you had nothing to worry about.

Soon you approached a hall lined with closed doors. These seemed to be conference rooms, and a quick look inside told you they were unused.

“Here looks good. We will just rest for a bit inside, ok? Enjoy the peace and quiet,” you said as you opened the door and motioned for Levi to get inside. He listened obediently, not bothering to really pay attention to where he was going or where you had led him. His brain was on autopilot now, and he was just so incredibly tired.

Immediately upon entering the room, Levi’s self control finally started to crumble as his tail made an appearance, dragging along the floor behind him. He leaned his back against the nearest wall, and slid down to the floor, utterly exhausted. Before he could curl into a ball, you had locked the door and climbed into his lap, straddling his legs as you faced him. Once you wrapped your arms around his neck, it was like something just snapped inside him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, clinging to your waist, sobbing uncontrollably.

As Levi cried, you gently stroked his hair and whispered in his ear, “Its ok now. I got you. You’re safe. It’s just us here.” You repeated this over and over again, like a mantra that you hoped would settle into his heart and disrupt what you were sure were very dark, chaotic thoughts.

“This is so not fair!” he wailed, “Why are there normies here?! They shouldn’t be here! This is supposed to MY place. MINE.”

He noticed the shirt he was wearing, and felt incredibly foolish for thinking it would be a good idea to wear it out of the house, “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have worn this. What kind of loser likes a children’s show anyways?”

He grabbed at his Ruri-chan shirt, and you were sure he would have ripped it off himself if you didn’t stop him soon.

“Hey, let’s not remove our clothes while we are out in public, ok?” you said as you gently grabbed his hand to stop the assault on his shirt.

He froze for a moment as he processed your words. You were right after all. Once again he was about to do something reckless and impulsive. How could you even stand to be around someone like him? He was just a gross, yucky shut in. When were you going to realize that and leave him? Surely it was only a matter of time. You would grow tired of his breakdowns. Get bored of his rants. Annoyed with his negativity.

You brought his hand to your lips and gave it a quick kiss before releasing it and pulling his head to your chest. He seemed to be calming down a little now, if only slightly, but you could still feel the rapid beat of his heart and saw his tail twitch beside him. You resumed stroking his hair as you had been earlier, whispering your affirmations and reassurances in his ear.

He wrapped his arms around your waist once more, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. Your words were starting to reach him, and he concentrated on each and every syllable as he tried to ground himself. You were here with him, so he knew it would be ok. Everything always was when you were around.

He hadn’t the faintest idea why exactly you loved him or put up with his eccentricities, but you had never given him reason to doubt you. Not even for a moment. And even though he shared your affection with Mammon, you always made time for him and took an interest in the things that were important to him. You never forgot about him.

And you were always there to encourage him when he was feeling down about himself. That’s right. He was safe with you. The only person that truly understood him and accepted him for who he was, flaws and all. And you were here right now, holding him close, pressing soft kisses to his head. He could feel your warmth in his arms, and his muscles finally started to relax, aching because of how long they had been tensed.

His grip around your waist began to loosen slightly, though he was still holding your firmly, and his body had stopped shaking.

“Feeling a little better?” you smiled, as you tried to sneak a look at his face, but he kept his eyes hidden beneath his bangs.

“Yeah,” he said. Now that he was calmer he was beginning to become aware of the situation he found himself in and it was making him somewhat self conscious, though he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

“Alright,” you laughed, breathing a sigh of relief. You had your favorite otaku back. At some point his tail had disappeared too. As you continued to alternate between hugging him close, kissing the top of his head, and running your fingers through his hair, you felt the last of the tension leave his body.

“Ready to head home now? Or are you feeling up to checking out more of the convention?”, you asked, taking his face in your hands now and gently turning him to look at you.

He was not prepared for the love he saw in your eyes when he finally made eye contact with you. He was expecting something closer to pity, which was ridiculous really since you had never looked at him that way before, but this was a million times better. Without even thinking he kissed you gently on the lips. You could taste the salt from his tears in his kiss, but you didn’t care. It wasn’t often Levi initiated affection like this and you were determined to treasure every second of it.

He pulled away slightly, and rested his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed. You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs and smiled as you felt him lean into your touch.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say, and you knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t the first time you had witnessed him having a meltdown after all, and you had begun to figure out what worked best to soothe him.

You kissed his forehead, “Of course. You’d do the same for me wouldn’t you?”

He looked up at you again as you started to wipe what remained of his tears from his face. He was sure he looked like a complete mess, but somehow you were still smiling at him so sweetly. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and you gave him a soft laugh. That was your Leviathan alright.

“Obviously,” he said, looking away.

“I think there was one more Q&A session scheduled,” you offered, trying to see if he was interested. Finally, he smiled back at you and you could see that familiar sparkle in his eyes. He definitely did not want to miss out on this, not when he had the chance to shake hands with his favorite manga artist. He bet they even had signed copies of the latest release available. And this artist usually had stickers and keychains to pass out. He just had to get a matching set for you and him. And maybe Mammon too. Maybe.

You stood up, your legs stiff from the awkward position you had been sitting in. You hadn’t realized just how uncomfortably you had been positioned until now, and your knees felt like jelly. You started to wobble slightly, but Levi had already gotten up himself and grabbed your arm to steady you.

“C’mon. Let’s go find Mammon and get to the conference hall. If we hurry, I bet we can get some good seats too. Oh is this the one that always hands out keychains and stuff?”, you asked as you stretched your legs and started to test out your ability to walk again.

He smiled even more brightly, knowing that you had remembered, “Yeah! I really wanted a chance at grabbing a matching set. If that’s ok with you, I mean.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. He couldn’t help but blush again. How did you always manage to say just what he wanted to hear? How did you always know what would make him happy? He thought about all the fun you had had together earlier that morning, and all he had to look forward to this evening.

Yeah, he was glad he left his room today.

#gn!mc #poly mc #tw: panic attack #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me levi #levi x mc #levi x poly mc #mammon x mc x levi #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me comfort #levi comfort #levi fanfic #levi angst

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junoscrybeofshadows · 2 years

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Love from the Shadows (Part 1: Duel)

(Thank you to @sasaleleselfships / @scrybeofchance for helping me with the title! Trying to come up with one was really difficult!)

"You’re slacking Grimora! Have you not practice since out last duel?”

“I most certainly have! I am merely holding back for you dear, it would not be fair to use all my might on my opponent. It is simply unjust-Hey!”

“Mind your openings! Your defense is starting to fall short again!”

The sound of laughter fills the air alongside the slashing of metal. Footsteps heavy with weight from a stumble thud against one of the cobblestone paths found within the gardens of the shadow realm. It was a cool spring evening in word of inscription the sun having set no more than an hour ago and yet the land of shadows was full of life. While in other realms tired folk would rest their heads, the realm of shadows was awake. Shadowy forms of rabbits and squirrels scurry throughout the grass and flowers while birds and bats fly high over head. Flowers that only grow beneath the moons light blossom in an array of colors painting small fields in elegant shades of blue and purple while any visitors who often stopped by greeted the keepers of the land with smiles and idle chatter before exploring the expansive land the world had to offer. All was peaceful and tranquil filled with nothing more than the ambiance of nature and the wind filling the air. But deep within the heart of the gardens, just off the path that led towards the house that laid at its a battle was under way.

It was not uncommon thing for such a thing to occur however, as the two two scrybes enjoyed dueling wherever they could only it was not a battle of cards they were playing. But rather one of swords. Grimora was a master at fencing, having learned how to do so from one of her precious ghouls she had developed a knack of shorts for the sport and adored having chancing to spar whenever she could. Unfortunately there were never that many who know how to wield a sword leaving her with only a thin number of opponents to duel against after she learned and soon surpassed Royal long ago. Admittedly she had tried to teach her fellow scrybes but none of them were too keen on learning for one reason or another leaving her with little challenge. That was until one particular visit anyway. The day had been no other she had been out visiting her fellow scrybes and had decided to pay Juno a visit as well only upon reaching the expansive gardens did she find a truly shocking sight. Juno dueling another shadow: if memory served her right it was the gate keeper; in a fencing match out in front of her victorian home. The battle that day had been cut short due to her sudden arrival but in turn good came of it as she found herself someone new to duel with.

Months had past since that day and ever since it became a tradition for the two woman to partake in a duel whenever death herself came to visit. A tradition that brings forth Juno’s smile every time. A quick jab towards her left side pulls Grimora out of her memories as she parries the oncoming assault the force behind it nearly sending her back for a few inches if it were not for the heels of her boots digging into the dirt.

“Growing distracted Grimora?” Juno couldn’t help but taunt as she dodges the soon coming counter attack. Stepping back in a swift set of three dress the ends of her dress flutter as she dodges again her yellow eye bright green with joy as she laughs upon glimpsing the embarrassed look that flashed across the corpse woman’s face. “Don’t you know it’s rude not to pay attention to your combatant in the middle of a duel?”

“Oh hush!”

Another chuckle rumbles out from Juno’s throat but as asked she quickly falls quiet though the smile on her face barely fades away. It was always so rare for Juno to smile but some new the reason why. Her teeth though pearly white were sharp that of a wild wolves; and when they were revealed in a form of a smile..more often and not it would result in someone growing startled. She remember the looks on each of the scrybe’s faces when she revealed it to them. Leshy was neutral about seeing as how his own teeth obtained a certain fang like quality of their own; however P03 and Magnifcus were more..perturbed by the sight though neither said anything about it. Several times she had seen challengers grow fearful of her when she greeted them with an enthusiastic smile..so she learned to hide it. It was an easy task though in truth; she rarely ever smiled before hand so keeping it even more hidden felt like mere child’s play but when she was around Grimora she couldn’t help but smile.

The woman despite her grim appearance and her role as the Scrybe of the Dead was always bubbly and had so much kindness in her heart that many saw her for the sweet caring person that she was. With a smile that could light up a room her chipper behavior was contagious and made almost everyone around her smile. She enjoyed having talking and spending time with others; she knew how to have fun but also how to be serious when a situation called for it. She had a laugh that could warm up someone’s heart as much a her hugs that always provided comfort to those who needed it. And hearing her laugh..seeing her smile it always made Juno’s heart melt and the walls she crafted to crumble and she knew the reason why.

Ever since the day they first met the two woman had grew incredibly close. With Juno seeking refugee in her crypt whenever the sun was too bright for her to handle the two had bonded over countless discussions over literature, card games, and whatever else they could think of discuss. She was the first person that she had truly befriend since her arrival and the admiration and respect she had for the necromancer had no limits. Although there were times she wished for more. To call her something other than her name such as “Darling” or “Sweetheart”. To hold her in an embrace that was more romantic than friendly. To be by her side forever as the one that she cared for most rather than an acquaintance..It was a silly thought. Or at least that’s what she thought anyway. How could someone like Grimora like her in such a way? It was ridiculous! She was too beautiful, two perfect to have the same feeling right? That was what Juno kept telling herself time and time again. That didn’t stop her from wondering..What would happen if she were to say something about it? Would it ruin their friendship? Would her feelings be returned in kind? Her mind began asking those questions until-

“A-HA!” something lightly jabs her in her chest. Blink once her twice her head tilts down to look at her chest; only for her gaze to widen as she sees the end of a saber pointed directly at her heart. Shifting the gaze down across the blade her body completely freezes as a look of shock is painted across her face. Lunging with her right arm extended in front of her was Grimora, smiling, and breathing heavily with her saber pointed right at her. The match was over. “Looks like I win dearie!”

“I- You- How did-”

“You left an opening dear. And here you were saying I had to watch my defenses haha”

“Uh…” How embarrassing. Blinking once again the tension in Juno’s shoulder vanishes as she lets out a sigh. Shaking her head she chuckles as she tucks her saber into the holster that hung from her hip. Extending her now empty hand outwards she helps the other woman up to her feet politely bowing to her shortly after as she gestures her to follow to a near by gazebo. “It appears I have been bested; well done my friend. And as per tradition you can decide what it is we do today. Perhaps you wish to continue our last card game? We never did get to finish it did we?”

The gazebo is decorated with blossoming wisteria flowers, purple petals flutter and cascade onto a neatly set up table that had been crafted prior to their arrival. Adorned with a platter of sweets and cups of tea the table offered a variety of snacks to choose from and was stage in such a way one would have thought it was a scene from a fairytale of sorts rather than the real world. Taking a seat at either ends of the rounded table Juno offers Grimora cup steaming with lemon tea that is swiftly yet politely taken by her fellow scrybe who mewls quietly in thought. More than likely due another tradition of theirs. Just like how they had agreed to spar during each visit they had agreed that whoever won the victor would decide what activity they would do that day. And more often than not it resulted with a game of cards or chest, or a quiet walk throughout the gardens but this time..that wasn’t the case as the answer Grimora soon gives nearly makes the shadow choke on her drink.

“How about you teach me how to Waltz today?”

“What?”

To be continued in Part 2:

#mistystory #juno scrybe of shadows #inscryption oc #inscryption #inscryption grimora #grimora #scrybe of the dead #fan story #fan fiction

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i-rely-on-you · 3 years

Note

Hey could you write a prompt about Farah and Saul worrying about their daughter who goes off with the winx?

Thank you so much for this wonderful promt! I took some liberties with this so I hope my anon likes it anyways ;-)

Happy Valentines folks

Home

It wasn’t like Farah to be clingy. It wasn’t a word that you would usually associate with her.

But ever since her daughter was born things had changed. She had changed.

It had been a little over 7 months ago now that they had welcomed a new light into their lives.

When Farah had first found out she was pregnant she had been shocked to say the least. Pregnancies at her age were quite rare even in their world. For humans even more so than fairies. They didn’t differ that much physiologically speaking but it did happen from time to time.

So the shock at finding out had been great. A million different thoughts started flying through her head at once. The most pressing one being “I have to tell Saul.” And so without the slightest bit of hesitation she went out to find him in the middle of a training session.

The look on her face had him on high alert in an instant and he gave over to Sky to continue with training in his place.

Mutely Farah had taken Sauls arm to steer him in the direction of her office where they could talk more privately.

Upon reaching the confines of her office she locked the door behind them and strategically placed herself in the middle of the room. Close enough for him to touch but also far enough away to leave room for him to bolt if he felt the need. Not that she thought he would do that but she wanted to leave all options open and not suffocate him with their situation.

He looked at her and followed her movements with his eyes attentively. “You’re kinda scaring me here Farah. What is going on?” He gave her a small smile to encourage her to talk to him.

Which she did.

“I’m pregnant.”

She couldn’t exactly describe the look on his face as she said it because the emotions that crossed his face in the time span of 4 seconds were overwhelming. His face lit up with a smile so bright one second she thought it would split his face in two and the next he wrinkled up his forehead in confusion and concern while already taking a step towards her. There was no hesitation on his part in touching her arm as he took in her coiled stance.

Stooping down a fraction to look into her eyes he whispered “Are you okay?” and put a hand to her cheek, stroking her skin delicately.

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this hadn’t been one of them. She had expected him to ask wether she was sure or for how long she’d known. Or maybe even outright express concern at her age and the dangers this would bring with it.

But not that.

Scolding herself internally she shook her head at her foolishness of even having thought of him saying such things. This was Saul for Christ’s sake. Her partner of more than three decades. Of course he wouldn’t ask such stupid things.

Taking the shake of her head as a negative to his question he got even more worried and placed is other hand fully on her side, pressing closer. The hand on her face grasping her cheek a little more firmly. Looking deeply concerned he was practically begging her to talk to him with his stormy grey orbs. Tears of worry pooling in the corners of his eyes.

The onslaught of emotions catching her off guard she had to put her hand out on his chest to steady herself.

“I’m fine. We’re fine Saul.” At this the man holding her let out a deep breath sagging with relief. He took her face in both his hands and looked at her with a sheepish smile on his lips. “Why would you scare me like this woman.” his exhale hitting her face like a cool breeze startling her out of her stupor.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me. It is just so much to take in.” With this she let out a puff of air herself in relief touching her forehead to his grasping at his lapels to get closer to him.

Humming in reply he kissed her forehead softly before looking into her eyes again. He took one of her hands and rested them on his chest.

To say he looked ecstatic would’ve been an understatement. The man looked positively out of his mind with glee when he proceeded to let his hands glide down to her sides to stroke her stomach through her dress with his thumbs. She followed his eyes. Looking down at herself in wonder she began to smile herself.

Sucking in a small breath she looked at his thumbs rubbing soft circles into the material of her dress barely enough pressure to feel it. “I was almost ready to leave for my classes today when I felt her.” She mused quietly. “It came so suddenly I was confused at first but then…” she trailed off.

Grinning he looked up into her eyes again before startling all of the sudden, “Wait.” he wondered looking down and up again in one fast movement fixing her with a stare. “Her?” he choked out.

Nodding she felt tears gathering in her own eyes at the look of pure joy on his face. In one swift motion he had his arms around her and had picked her up in a crushing hug. Startled the fairy wound her arms around his neck to steady herself and threw her head back laughing at his antics. “Yes Saul. Her.” she said once the world stopped spinning and she could look at his face again.

Setting her down again softly but still holding her so close, chest to chest breathing hard, her feet barely touching the floor he marvelled “We’re gonna have a little girl?” his breath stocking, choked up with emotion.

Nodding she took his face in her own hands now and kissed him softly. Melting into the kiss Saul and Farah just revelled in the moment letting time pass without consequence. Just holding each other close. Breathing each other in.

They could talk about everything else later but for now they had all they needed in this world. They had each other and this little life they created between them.

Everything else could wait. They could worry about the rest of the world later.

Which brought her to her current predicament.

Worry.

Well maybe worry was a bit too strong a word to use in their situation. But she couldn’t help it. She was being clingy with their daughter and there was no fault in that either seeing as Saul was just as bad as she was with letting their daughter out of their sight.

The school was out for the day and Farah hadn’t settled back into her teaching position fully yet. She just helped a few students out here and there to control their magic, gave advice and tried to do as much as possible without actually teaching. She avoided being away from her little girl currently pressed to her chest as much as she could.

Sitting here in the small stuffed alcove in the courtyard, holding her little baby close, Saul sitting right next to her having an arm wound around her back, Farah had to contemplate giving the very attentive child over to Blooms waiting arms.

“Please please just for a second? I just want to introduce her to the fun she’ll be up to with us when she’s a little older. I swear we’ll be right over there.” the young fire fairy said while pointing over to where Musa, Aisha, Stella and Terra were standing waving at them.

At hearing the fun bit Farah had lifted an eyebrow and fixed her with an expectant glare while tilting her head a little in the direction of the young woman.

Rushing to explain her pupil put out her hands in explanation “Nothing dangerous fun of course! You know I would never let anything happen to her. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.” with that she grew slightly more solemn in her demeanour but not less motivated. Like she just needed to clarify the fact that Farah and her little family of three had grown closer to her in a way that only found family could.

Farah knew that Bloom had grown to be more to her than just a pupil too. She considered her to be more than just a surrogate or a student. She had adopted her into her heart in all ways but on paper.

Her pregnancy had only brought them closer. She loved the girl like she were her own.

Looking over at Saul, Farah waited for the nod she knew was coming from her smiling partner and rested her eyes back on the fire fairy in front of her.

Changing her grip on the infant, Farah detached herself from her daughter and handed her over as carefully as possible. Blooms face betraying her absolute joy at being able to hold her little surrogate sister, stuck out her tongue in concentration as she took a hold of the baby and settled her into her arms with an almost practiced ease.

Cooing at the baby in her arms, Bloom spoke to her softly, “Hello beautiful! How about we say hi to our friends huh?” bending her face down to be at a level with the infants beautiful grey eyes she continued to chatter to her while already having started to march over to her little ragtag group of friends.

With that they were off to the other side of the courtyard not even 15 metres away.

Letting out a small sigh, Farah settled more deeply into Sauls side. His arms coming around her more fully now holding her to him lovingly. Nuzzling her neck he murmured “She’s a good kid.” never taking his eyes off her daughter as she was being shown around her group of friends. Everyone making silly faces at her as they went.

Nodding slightly “I know.” Farah answered softly. Still having her eyes on her daughter she murmured “I will never stop worrying though.” softly enough for Saul to hear.

Nodding into her neck he placed a soft kiss on her skin just above her collar bone before fixing his gaze on their daughter again. She seemed content as she gurgled words nobody could understand while happily petting Bloom on the cheeks with her chubby little hands.

Bloom had taken the hand of their little baby girl in one of hers and was rocking her around softly as if dancing. The little fairy sitting on her hip loving the movement. Musa being the ever prepared pupil had pulled out a tiny bluetooth speaker that was playing a peppy pop song on low volume sitting on a nearby balustrade.

Soon all of the four young women were dancing around with their little ray of sunshine gurgling and screeching in delight in their middle. It was a sight to see.

Watching the kids having so much fun made Farah immeasurably happy and Saul loved seeing her like this. Alight with joy and pride for her children. One of blood and one of choice.

Life was good they decided. For once in their lifetime they loved living.

This was home. There was no other place like it.

fin

@chibsytelford

#fanfic #farah dowling #farah dowling x saul silva #saul silva #fate winx saga

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coldcocoamilk · 3 years

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Whose Horse Is That? -- the social season AU we all want

‘sup! after surviving The Big Game at my job, around a hundred cases of wings later, I’ve finally recovered enough to write again. thank you everyone for your patience as I’ve been working to get this out of my brain. please enjoy the social season au that was asked for!

this work is also available on Archive of Our Own. please read it wherever you are most comfortable reading! as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read my work. ♥

Chapter 1: Arrival

The salty air finally starting to smell a bit fresher. It had been many weeks since Hange last saw dry land, and as she claps her book shut, she takes in the sights from the deck of the ship that had been her temporary home. The Port of London was not exactly attractive, nor did it show off the architecture and class she had been expecting, but still. It was dry land. Finally, it smelled like something more than fish: steam engines, gasoline, and motor oil. It was not exactly ladylike for her, but those smells brought her some joy.

“Hange,” her brother’s voice called out to her. “You shouldn’t stand on the deck while we’re trying to dock. They have a job to do, you know. Your dress might get wet, and it’s cold.”

“But Moblit,” she grinned, “It smells like cars!”

“We have an impression to make,” he reminded her, tugging at her arm gently but firmly. “Besides, I’m serious. We both should get back down.”

She sighed and took the wide-brimmed hat off her head, clutching it to her chest. The air ran through her hair, pulling a few stray clumps out to fly up onto her forehead. “Fine. I just can’t wait to explore.”

The hat came back on, and the two walked back below decks to their quarters. It would only be a half an hour until their shoes stepped back on land, and both were more than excited. Sure, they had a purpose for coming to England: find a lover, secure the family fortune, and have enough children to carry on their legacy. The British social season was the perfect time to do exactly that, and have a little fun while they could.

“What have you been reading lately?” Moblit asked her as they watched the men in charge of docking the boat through the porthole. “I haven’t heard much from you in the past couple days.”

“Oh! It’s a book on human anatomy. There’s a part about a condition called diabetes that is really interesting to me. Apparently, they’ve found out that people with that condition are missing a function of their body. But, we don’t know if we can replace it yet,” Hange explained. “They’re calling it ‘insulin.”

Moblit’s amber eyes flashed. “Do you still want to be a doctor, Miss Hange?”

She felt her cheeks grow warm and chose then to place the book into her suitcase. “It doesn’t matter.”

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and brought his hand up through his hair. “Well, with the way things are looking in the world lately, you could at least be a nurse.”

The sudden stress in her brother’s demeanor wiped the embarrassment from the forefront of her mind. “Listen, if it comes to that, you know I will.”

“We’ll have to go back to America, if we can,” Moblit explained. “But it will be dangerous. I can’t imagine they will be allowing normal sea travel. We might be here longer than we expect.”

“I can learn to love it here,” Hange reasoned.

“You haven’t even seen the city,” Moblit fired back.

With no adequate reply in mind, Hange just sat back down and toyed with the ribbon at the edge of her hat. Of course, her brother would know it is her dream to be a doctor. But women don’t become doctors, she reminded herself. They just become bedside nurses and offer comfort. It seemed like a miserable fate for herself in the medical world. But, if there was a war like they all said there would be, then maybe she could make herself useful. It would be better than nothing, at least.

“I apologize, sister. I shouldn’t talk to you like you’re one of the men.”

“I rather you did, to be quite frank,” She replied. “If we have all this money and power, even if I’m a woman, I should be aware.”

The movement of the boat finally stopped, and a voice from above called out letting them know it was time to deboard. Chatter spread through the boat like wildfire, and soon it was full of the sounds of people grabbing luggage, putting on shoes, and walking towards the exit.

Hange looked at her brother, shrugged, and grabbed the smallest suitcase, knowing it would be a scandal if she grabbed one any bigger. She secured her hat with an extra pin and tucked the stray hairs back under it, smoothed her skirt, and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Finally, land!

As they walked across the dock out to the street, Moblit grinned, finally feeling some of the excited energy Hange did. “By the way Hange, I just want you to know. I respect you. But let me know if you ever want me to stop treating you like the boys.”

“Absolutely,” she replied.

A man stood in front of a car holding a piece of paper with their names on it, and in a quick few minutes, their possessions were stowed, and they were on their way to the residence that would serve them well for the next half-year.

It was a small residence by their standards, and quite small compared to the others in the area, but it would serve them well, nonetheless. The bricks had been recently cleaned and stood out deep red against the white trimming of the house, and when one looked at the shining windows, they also saw brightly colored flowerboxes underneath them. The top floor seemed to boast a large balcony spanning across the whole front of the house, and the grass was surprisingly green for mid-March.

Arriving at the front of the house, three people stood to meet them, one who was quite familiar to the brother-sister pair.

“Kenny!” Moblit shouted, rushing up to give his friend a hug. “It’s been so long!”

Kenny gave Moblit a small smile, a rarity for the man, and a surprise to Hange. “You two were just children when I last saw you. Now you’re out here looking for love.”

“Hange, you’ve gotten so tall,” he remarked. “And you are as beautiful as always. You two will have a great time here.”

“Thank you for having us, Mr. Ackerman,” Hange replied. “I can only hope I’m as beautiful as your home here.”

This earned her another smile, much to her joy. “This is but a cottage, Hange!”

It had been so long since she had seen Kenny smile. Sure, he made sure to keep in touch with the family through letters and photos, but since his sister Kuchel had died, those smiles had become few and far between. His letters never had the same kind of wry wit to them they had in previous years. Still, she knew he was capable of it. Kenny rarely took up the opportunity to make a good joke, but he could only joke if there were people around.

They chatted for a bit on the front steps there, catching up on life and musing about the weather while the two servants brought their luggage in. Finally, Kenny led them inside to the warmth of the foyer, much to the pair’s relief. The combination of the bitter British cold and them trying to get their land legs back meant that standing and chatting, while fun, was quite the chore.

“Moblit, Hange, please meet my two favorite servants. This is Connie and Sasha. If you have any needs or worries during your stay here, please call upon them. They are kind and capable,” Kenny explained as he led them up the stairs. “Hange, your room will be on the last door to the left down this hall, and Sasha’s quarters are right across from yours. There is a washroom just next door, too. Moblit, yours is the same, but down over here,” he gestured to a hall across the way. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to check up on dinner, so take your time to settle in. It should be on the table at around seven o’clock.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ackerman,” the siblings replied together. Moblit walked Hange to her room with Sasha in tow, and then departed off to his own room.

Turning the knob on the door, Hange was greeted with a surprisingly spacious, but cozy room. Deep green velvet curtains were parted to show the street and balcony outside, their tails just barely brushing the floor. The bed was large and four-poster, with curtains for privacy. Her suitcases stood in one corner next to several large wardrobes, and there was a writing desk, end table, and a couch just large enough for two to sit and have tea. The green felt warm, welcoming, and inviting.

“Miss Zoe, Master Ackerman said your favorite color was green, so you were given this room. If you don’t like it, we can always change it,” Sasha spoke up.

“No, I adore it,” Hange replied, walking over to the bed. She pulled back the curtain and flopped onto the bed, sinking into the cushy goodness that was goose down. “I absolutely adore it,” she breathed.

“Would you like me to unpack your bags, Miss Zoe?” Sasha asked, unsure of what to do with her hands.

Feeling the effects of several weeks on a boat combined with the general exhaustion of travel, Hange simply rolled over onto her stomach. “It’s quite alright, Sasha. And please, just call me Hange. Could you please loosen my stays? I’d like to take a nap.”

“With pleasure, Hange.” Sasha’s fingers were swift and adept at loosening the corset, and in no time, she had Hange tucked into bed. “Should I come to you when dinner is about ready, then?”

“Yeah, that sounds good…” Hange trailed off, already half asleep.

The stillness of the bed and dry land. Finally, maybe she could get some good sleep.

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoe #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #my writing #writers on tumblr #alternate universe

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draqcnheartstrinq · 4 years

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Hate That I Want You (Part 3)

Sirius Black x Pure-blood!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: At first it’s hate, then it’s confusion. It grows into a healthy amount of curiosity until it turns into hate once more. But not towards each other, more towards the idea of wanting what you’ve tried to avoid all your life.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: angst, bad family relationships, mild fighting?

Note: So very sorry for basically not updating this story for over two months. That’s just bad even for my standards I hope you enjoy this one though!

HTIWY Masterpost | Part 4

James loves his quidditch, everyone knows it and nobody is surprised when they see him on the quidditch pitch flying along the field. There’s no match planned, no training on the schedule and still Potter is there on his broom whilst his friends sit in a group on the stands.

Occasionally Remus, Lily, Marlene and Sirius have a go at flying themselves. They’re all good, but of course nothing like quidditch king James Potter.

When the five of them are up in the air, the others cheer and watch from down below. Other students sit in the stands too, watching them or just discussing some of their classes, catching up or admiring the Hogwarts Grounds.

The quidditch pitch isn’t only James’ favourite spot, but also that from many others.

You heard a few fellow Slytherins whispering in the library about how amazing it was to just sit there, reflect, watch the clouds go by and do nothing but breathe. Whenever they felt threatened by the copious amounts of assignments and tests they would go there to unwind and relax.

And so, you were now walking up the wooden stairs, towards the seats and the beautiful autumn sky, trying to finally find a way to ease your mind.

You brought a book, one that you had read a thousand times before but couldn’t get enough of and clutched it between your arms until you found a place to get comfortable. The stands weren’t anything fancy but they gave off a cosy pine smell, the sky wasn’t clear but the sun shone through the clouds in a most beautiful way and most of all… Even though you were alone, you didn’t feel like it.

Clusters of friends were scattered around the pitch, chattering along and filling the air with happiness. In a place like this you could never feel alone because of all the friendly faces around. It didn’t matter what name you were given or the blood you were born with. The quidditch pitch was a safe place and thanks to that one Slytherin in the library you now knew that.

Focussing all your attention on the book in your hands, reading every word as if it was the first time, you didn’t realise the giggles zooming through the air above your head were ones you knew. Until the person flew so close you could basically feel the breeze flying over you and messing your hair around.

Lily was trying her very best to lose James who desperately chased her, in a friendly attempt of course. Her laugh pierced the air and brought a smile to many others’ lips. Even to yours without realising it. James, of course, was much faster on his broom and caught up with her in less than thirty seconds. He reached out grabbing her arm in the air, making Lily scream out of joy and also maybe a little because she didn’t like losing.

Her scream brought your attention upwards, away from your book and towards the duo who hysterically laughed at one another. After a while Lily averted her attention to you too and waved with such a happy smile, you felt your heart grow. You waved back, a little more shy than her but at least just as joyful.

As Lily turned her attention back on flying alongside James, you averted your eyes higher up. Remus was there chatting with Marlene about who knows what, both several feet in the air and dangling their legs off the sides. You couldn’t possibly imagine looking that relaxed while sitting on a hovering stick, being a little scared of heights yourself, but they didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Realising you were staring by now you turned back towards your book but something seemed off.

Not the book, there wasn’t a problem with the book.

You felt off, like something was trying to catch your attention but you couldn’t make out what.

Your eyes roamed back over the stands, catching a few Hufflepuffs sitting in a circle, a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw holding hands whilst whispering to each other. You smiled at that, not caring if it made you look like a lunatic.

But what kept you on the edge of your seat like this? What was making you this uncomfortable you could barely concentrate on one single word of your forgotten page?

After several seconds you realised, much to your displeasure, that the “what” was actually a “who”.

There he was once again, with his long messy black hair and his piercing grey eyes, looking right at you as if it was his favourite occupation. Honestly, as of lately you couldn’t tell if Sirius did it on purpose or not. Contrary to the other years at Hogwarts when he used to only give you attention in the form of barking remarks and swift hateful glances, now for almost a week he had seeked you out in any crowd. You did the same to him you had to admit, otherwise you wouldn’t even have know about his prolonged stares.

His looks weren’t friendly, but they weren’t full of hatred anymore either. They were more like a gaze, as if he was looking at you but at the same time right through you, lost in thought.

Right now, even as you were looking right into his eyes, it was as if he didn’t realise what he was doing. His head didn’t turn or even move an inch to the left or right, his eyebrows didn’t knot together like they did up until a week ago…

Something had been going on inside his head and obviously you couldn’t complain. If Sirius could finally stop holding a grudge against you, purely for the family you were born in, then anyone could right?

Or so you were trying to tell yourself. But you were smarter than to keep on hoping it would get better, it never did in the last six years.

*~*~*~*~*~*

His mood had been swinging from left to right, from cheery and upbeat to plain out irritated by the most insignificant matters.

James talked too loud, Peter chewed with his mouth open, Marlene’s high pitched laugh pierced his ears, professor Mcgonagall called him out for every joke he pulled no matter how subtle they were,... Nothing was going his way.

On top of all of this, there seemed to be an itch in his head he wasn’t able to scratch.

Everywhere Sirius went he saw two particularly unwanted eyes reading a book or concentrating on ink spilling out of the tip of a quill. Green accented robes and an obnoxiously neat skirt flowed around knee length socks, also accented by that same deep colour of emerald green. It’s the kind smile, though, that makes him hate it all more. It’s out of character, those lips aren’t supposed to look that innocent and friendly.

Sirius hasn’t been himself ever since the encounter with you after potions class. He’s tense, stressed even and he doesn’t get why. Was it because you called him out on his obvious ignorance? Maybe because the words that left your mouth that day were both filled with obvious anger but also hurt?

You had genuinely sounded hurt, Sirius now realises that. You looked at him as if he had grown two heads, opening your mouth just slightly before closing it. The corners of your lips turned downwards and your eyes lost the sparkle of that always present wit. Your shoulders had slumped down and you made yourself as tiny as you could without being too obvious about it.

The conversation still rang inside his head every time he so much as caught a glance of your silhouette.

“You honestly still believe I stand for what my family stands for?”

Your voice was so small, you had almost whispered it and if his attention wasn’t solely focussed on you he would have probably missed what you were saying.

He knows his reaction to your fragile demeanour made you stand up straight again. As if seeing his perplexed eyes was enough to remember what you were dealing with. He could see it in the way you pulled your books against your chest, how you twisted your face into a scowl.

That angry look, that was the one he recognised.

It made him snap back at you, like he always did, trying to put you back into place. But your answers…

They weren’t what he expected, they weren’t what he wanted to hear. His plan was to confront you, to finally get the hateful words to spill from your mouth and proof his friends wrong, so he could tell them how wrong they were about trusting and defending you.

“Do your family’s actions reflect onto you? Have you ever considered I could be in the same bloody situation as you are, or is the hate towards Slytherins just so damn huge it doesn’t even matter what my opinions are? You’re just going to keep accusing me of sh*t I’ve never done, or better, never even said!

“I never shared their love for our bloodstatus let alone my whole opinion on who’s worthy and who is not! It may be a surprise to you, Black”, you made sure to spit out his surname as if it was a pawn on a chessboard, “but I consider someone worthy as soon as they step foot in this world, from there on it’s up to themselves if they deserve to walk among the others or not.”

Those definitely weren’t the words he expected.

That night wasn’t one where sleep found him quickly. Questions kept sliding through his mind, all basically asking the same damn thing.

“Some people don’t wish to be disowned and thrown on the streets, Sirius! Of all people I would think you would be the most understanding of that!”

Was he wrong all along?

Now he sat at dinner, three weeks later, with a fake smile plastered on his lips. Irritation, rage, frustration,... Confusion.

All those years he had known you, walking along with your parents at King’s Cross, not once had you stepped out of line with them. When they grimaced at muggleborns, you turned your head the other way. When your parents talked to his you made sure to get as far away as possible. He always held that against you, believing you wanted to get away because he, a friend of muggleborns, was there right next to them.

Were you just scared?

He had heard stories from his parents, from before he ran away and left them for good.

“The (Y/L/N)s had a particular encounter with a mudblood, Walburga, have you heard?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Don’t worry though, they put the vile bastard in it’s place.”

He remembers conversations like that too vividly, vulgar and sickening details following suit.

How you hadn’t left after all that your family had done, said and inflicted upon innocents… It remains a mystery to him. It’s why he always saw you as one of them. You didn’t seem bothered or even fazed by all of it. You never talked back, never gave a kick.

When someone asked you about it you just ignored the question and went on with your day.

How could you? Why would you?

Sirius questions everything, sitting there whilst shoving potatoes around his plate.

You remain a mystery he can’t seem to solve.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When the owls come flying through the Great Hall the next morning, you expect to see grandma’s tiny brown one to land in front of you, lay down a letter and ask for some petting. It’s routine by now and it’s what keeps you grounded, makes you realise there’s someone outside of these school walls that still cares.

This time that doesn’t happen, though. You see other people receiving The Daily Prophet, others get letters from their parents and family at home.

Grandma’s owl never appears.

Instead you see a black one, as dark as the nights on Hogwarts grounds, fly towards you. It lands gracefully and for several seconds you can’t help but stare.

This isn’t what’s supposed to happen, grandma never forgets to write.

Even though this isn’t the owl you expected, you still recognise the stark yellow eyes that contrast with the deep feathers. It’s your family’s owl.

The loud screech of the bird takes you back to where you are, momentarily pushing down the panic away from your head. It settles deep, making you feel nauseous as you take the letter from the sharp beak. Your owl flies away without any hesitation.

Other people around you have been alerted by the loud noise coming from your place as well. Of course they have to keep staring, making your nerves even more prominent. You do as you do best, though. You plaster a fake not bothered look on your face, lay down the letter next to your plate and keep eating like nothing had happened, like your stomach wasn’t refusing every bite you took.

As you tried to calm down, over time you were able to make out the details of the letter. The handwriting of your mother on the front, the big black seal known to be your family’s,...

And then you noticed the obvious red colour of the envelope.

The letter was a Howler. You were definitely not opening that in front of everyone, it was staying shut until you were in your room, alone, with no roommates to disturb you.

For the remaining time of breakfast you kept your eyes on your plate, anxiously thinking about what could be written inside. You dreaded having to listen to your mother’s voice, most probably screaming at you for some unknown reason.

But most importantly, why didn’t grandma write?

Why did it have to be your parents instead?

Lost inside your own thoughts, leaving breakfast on auto-pilot and with a blank stare in your eyes, you just forgot

You didn’t even realise you left the Howler right next to your still half full plate.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sirius saw everything, never diverting his eyes away from you for more than ten seconds.

He saw your hopeful smile when the owls started flying in, saw how that smile slowly turned into a frown the longer you waited. Your lips had fully fallen open when a black owl landed in front of you.

He saw your hesitation, heard the loud shriek that made you jump in your seat.

He saw the red envelope.

And there it was again, that unbothered look you always glued onto your face, the one that makes him angry every single time he sees it.

He always addressed it to you actually not caring, but now he just couldn’t. You had looked so devastated and almost terrified just a second ago.

Were you hiding what you were feeling?

Was that what that look was? You just didn’t want others to see what kept going on inside that confusing head of yours?

That would be exactly what Slytherins were good at. Sirius now sees the sly move, realises how good you are at lying. Not with words but with your demeanour.

He definitely doesn’t miss you leaving, head down shoulders slumped because even you aren’t that good at telling lies. He spots the red paper still on the table, left and forgotten about.

There’s a big decision now, right in front of him. Is he stooping that low?

“You okay there, Sirius? You’ve been awfully quiet”, Lily remarks and everyone turns their heads his way.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just not been feeling too well since waking up.”

“Have you guys gone partying without us again?” Marlene asks with a pout hanging off her lips, big round puppy eyes following not long after.

“We wouldn’t dare”, Peter answers before everyone chuckles at the thought of that happening last time. The girls had been mad for weeks.

“I’m done here, I’m full as can be”, Remus says after a while, standing up and pushing off from the table, “If anyone feels like joining me before having to leave for class-”

He can’t even finish his sentence before basically everyone at the table follows his lead and leaves their plates for what they are. All except Sirius.

“Aren’t you coming, mate?”

“I’m going to talk to my brother first, it’s been a while”, Sirius responds, not lifting his gaze from the Slytherin table. Unbeknown to his friends it’s not because his brother is sat there.

“As you wish. Let’s get going, guys!”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Just when you’re about to turn another corner, you snap out of it.

Emptiness is refilled by panic and you’re running before you’ve even realised you were standing still.

The letter! How could you forget to take the stupid letter?!

Your heart beats like crazy and your breathing is deep and irregular. How much more could go wrong today? It’s only half past eight in the morning, classes haven’t started yet and here you are, running your lungs out of your body because of a Howler your family left you.

When the entrance of The Great Hall comes into sight you finally let yourself slow down. Still your legs move in an obvious fast pace, stressed and rigid with your hands fidgeting in front of your stomach.

Just as you reach the grand doorway Sirius Black walks through. You see him hesitate for a second, locks eyes before he quickly gathers himself and walks the other direction. You couldn’t care less at this moment. He’s not what’s concerning you right now. It’s that bloody red letter right next to your plate.

You enter, scan the Slytherin table trying to recall the exact place you sat at.

Penny still sits there, the fifth year Slytherin you know from spending too much time in the library. She sat not too far away from where you had been eating only minutes ago.

As you pass seat after seat, even passing the one you could swear you had been seated, you didn’t see a single letter. No Daily Prophets, no regular white letters,...

Not your very prominent red letter.

“No”, you breathe out. No one hears you.

“Please, it has to be here.” This time you speak louder.

“Everything okay, (Y/N)?”

You look up, silently thanking Merlin for this sweet girl, Penny, for at least caring enough to check on you. You’re quite sure you look like you’ve seen a ghost, figuratively speaking of course.

“No, I-I’m sorry for bothering but have you seen an envelope lying right at this spot? A red one?”

You wait as she looks down to where your letter should’ve been. The longer she takes the more you lose hope.

It’s been several seconds now, you’re almost sure she’s going to ignore your question and get on with her day but then she speaks up as if she only just realised what you asked.

“The Howler you received?”

Of course she knew you received a Howler, Penny was known for being an observant girl, still you had slightly hoped she didn’t notice. You had hoped no one noticed. Obviously that wasn’t the case.

“Yes, Penny, the Howler”, you answer slightly annoyed she had to bring it up in front of her friends. She seems to realise her mistake, though, and looks at you with apology written across her face.

“Actually, yeah we saw”, Duncan who sits in front of the girl answers, “Sirius Black picked it up and left.”

That’s when everything starts to spin. The words have barely reached your ears but you know enough, he’s going to ruin you. This is going to ruin everything.

You swear tears are starting to form in your eyes but rapid blinks keep them from rolling down. You can’t lose it now, not in front of everyone. The breathy voice that leaves your lips is a dead giveaway of what is going through your head right now, though.

“And you just let him take it?” It’s barely a whisper, but you know Penny heard well enough. She turns her head down to her plate, guilt prominently edged onto her features.

“We thought he was going to bring it to you”, Duncan answers, also slightly taken aback by your demeanor.

You shake your head, not believing what’s happening still. “Oh yeah, because we all know Sirius Black is such a good friend of mine.”

The response is filled with frustration and most probably a lot of obvious resentment, but you can’t get yourself to care about that right now. You’re running again, this time out of The Great Hall, trying to catch up with the guy who has your whole future on this school right between his fingers.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He feels wrong. The red envelope clutched in his right hand is burning into his skin. This doesn’t feel right, no matter who the piece of paper belongs to. Why did he do it? Is he so desperate to make your life hell? Is he so set on proving you’re a horrible person?

Sirius doesn’t have the answers to his own questions, he regrets taking the letter and it’s now stressing him out.

This isn’t about doing the right thing anymore. Now he is being the horrible person out of the two of you. He debates walking back to your spot and laying it right where he had picked it up, but it was too late for that. Everyone would’ve seen what he did, if he went back they would only confront him about it.

The more distance he puts between himself and The Great Hall the worse he feels. He takes steps by two, looking down at the red letter in his hand with your name elegantly written on the front. It’s definitely a Howler from your parents, he recognises the black stamp that seals the lid from the many letters your family had sent to his parents.

Why would they send you a Howler?

Maybe they were going to praise you? That could be it, they were only trying to brag about how good of a Slytherin their precious daughter is. Amazing grades, never out of line, always proper and prim,...

But the more he thinks about it the more he starts to question whether his friends were right.

Howlers weren’t sent by loving parents, they were always sent by people who had some bone to pick. Sirius remembers the time Martha, a Hufflepuff, received a Howler from her grandparents, yelling at her because apparently if she didn’t start studying for her OWLs she would be in big trouble when she got back home.

Or that time when Kyle tried to pull a prank on one of the professors but injured a student instead, his parents were livid.

Sirius stops walking, now taking that bloody letter into both hands, staring at it as if he wanted to burn it right then and there.

Anger fills his head as he focuses on your mother’s handwriting. What could your parents possibly be humiliating you for? There was not a chance you were doing anything wrong, anything against their standards. You studied hard, got amazing grades, were good at pretty much anything that involved magic.

The fact he was becoming concerned for you, a (Y/L/N), confuses him to no end and it makes him even more livid.

Nothing made sense anymore.

“Sirius Black!”

Your loud voice echoed through the halls like never before. Not once has Sirius ever heard you scream in all those years he knew you. It takes him back to reality, out of his thoughts and into the world where he can feel nothing but loathing at your mere presence.

After the initial shock he turns around, a prominent glare is fixed onto his face.

And there you are, getting closer with every second, walking with loud steps but still as gracious as ever.

Before he realises it you’re right in front of him, eyes wide and deep breaths filling the air between you. You’re seething, staring daggers at him. If looks could kill, Sirius would be lying on the ground with a cut open throat right now.

“If you give it back I won’t speak a word about this to anyone, Black.”

He expected you to make a scene, but you surprised him with an almost gentle voice, a whisper so no one else could hear but him. It’s a big contrast to your body language.

Your outstretched hand is patiently waiting for him to lay the letter on your palm.

“No can do, (Y/L/N).”

He turns away from you, trying to walk away as quickly as possible but you don’t let him.

Sirius feels his hair being tugged backwards, his scalp stinging from the pull. You know it’s a low blow, almost childish if this was any other situation but you’re so angry, so furious, so full of hatred right now that it’s the only thing that makes you feel satisfied.

His guard is down as he is too distracted and startled by the move you just pulled, literally, that it’s easy for you to grab for the envelope in his hand.

When he feels the paper slipping between his fingers he grips on tight, refusing to let go. He’s in too deep by now, he’s not giving up on that letter.

Sirius never meant for you to be humiliated, as nasty as he could be sometimes, never once did it cross his mind to harass or demoralize you in front of everyone at school. His hatred was private, he made sure only you knew about his distaste. Yes, others picked up on the grudge between you two after a while but never was anything said in full public view.

Never, absolutely never did he mean for this to get so far.

One of you must have pulled too hard, maybe the stamp was weak from the beginning,...

When the black seal broke away from the envelope there wasn’t enough time to realise what was happening.

Before either of you could react your mother’s loud voice filled the hallways and you were there in the middle of everyone listening.

Sirius stumbled back out of pure shock, eyes wide pleading for something to stop this.

Had he gone too far?

Yes, he did. He realised it as soon as he saw your face.

Your tears dripped and hit the floor right between your feet.

TAGLIST:

@iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire @wangmangagavroche @songforhema @fortisfiliae @the-apple-princess @youlook-likehell @oliviaharddyy @slytherpuffgal @supermassiveblackhope @this-silent-area @madmaiden2890 @simply-hamilton @cindywayne @aikeia @coffeeismylife28 @remusandsiriusxreader @evolutionofkatep

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heathers-wig · 4 years

Text

last kiss oneshot aka a sad heathers-wig making a duncney oneshot at 1AM and getting emotional over the duncney parallels because i’m THAT bitch

listen,,,,, i know. i have no shame. making duncney content in 2020? to old taylor swift songs? my pride has evaporated, so please td tumblr, have mercy.

also @ my few non-td mutuals and non-writer mutuals: do not judge me more than you already have please i’m begging.

available on ao3 here

I still remember the look on your face

Lit through the darkness at 1:58

The words that you whispered

For just us to know

You told me you loved me

So why did you go away?

A somber reflection of her own face stared back at Courtney as the brown eyed girl stared, saddened, outside one of the jet’s windows. The Jumbo-Jet had been flying for hours, to wherever the show’s next location was, and the rest of her team was fast asleep; even Cody, who was terrified of Sierra rubbing his feet at the dead of the night. Sierra herself had been worn out after hours of cutting out perfectly shaped pieces of paper of a Gwen silhouette and then destroying it — she had taken so much joy out of it, and had done it so flawlessly, that Courtney was sure it had become a routine over the few years Total Drama had been airing on TV. After today, Courtney would gladly join Sierra, if she wasn’t so busy making a list on how much of a back-stabbing, helio-phobic goth-loving liar that Gwen was.

God, Gwen; just the name made Courtney want to let out one of the most pathetic sobs that had ever been seen on television. She knew it was stupid, she honestly did, that she trusted Gwen — it wasn’t anything she said, or really anything that she did, that deemed Gwen as untrustworthy, it was more like the feeling of being unsettled that came after every time Duncan’s name would worm its way into the conversation, and the way Gwen had tensed and how the goth’s cheeks would become slightly pinker, yet her skin somehow paler; in hindsight, it was so dreadfully and painfully obvious that this would happen, and how inevitable it was that this sad, beautifully breathtaking destruction would crumble down on the fragments of happiness in Courtney’s life, but maybe that’s why Courtney and Gwen were drawn together in the first place. To prove the paparazzi wrong, or maybe because Courtney really believed that Gwen wouldn’t stoop as low and confirm the public’s suspicions. However, time had slowly gone by and Courtney learned the hard, cruel way that they were absolutely right.

Chef, who had never taken any sort of liking or pity on Courtney — except when she had sued Chris, he had begrudgingly admitted that he was impressed — had been nice (or cruel, Courtney couldn’t decide which one was more accurate,) enough to show the brunette the clip herself. Herself hugging Duncan (who she now nicknamed Dumbcan in her own mind — ugh, the jerk!) so lovingly after being separated for what felt like ages, and feeling her heart soar when he said he thought of her while he was gone —

— But that was all a lie. A lie that made Courtney feel secure in her deteriorating relationship, a lie that allowed Duncan an easy way out, a lie that filled Gwen’s stomach to the brim with fluttering butterflies. Courtney had to watch, with something that felt all too familiar to horror, as Duncan and Gwen embraced and slowly leaned towards each other, all while knowing and ignoring the brunette outside who was just so happy that she had her boyfriend back and someone she could call the closest to a best friend was still in the game with her. It was almost ironic how that ended. Almost.

Now, staring out the window, Courtney couldn’t help but wander how this could have possibly happened. Of course, she knew the actual answer; Gwen falling for Duncan after her public and awful breakup with Trent, and Duncan losing interest in her as Courtney thought more and more of their relationship as long-term versus until one of them had gotten a sudden sweep of common sense and dumped the other. Whenever Courtney had tried to construct the words in her head of what she would say to Duncan when she eventually had to actually face him, the thoughts that were so carefully balanced on the tip of her tongue would come tumbling back down to the pit of her stomach. Throwing a pity party and tantrum when breaking up with Duncan would be inevitable — she knew it, as much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it — but the feeling of dread she felt when looking back on their initial relationship was too much to bear.

It was ironic, wasn’t it, how she was the first to lean in, while Duncan had took the final lean out? And how he didn’t even have enough guts to breakup with her to begin with? Sure, it would definitely hurt, but she was almost positive that it would be nowhere near the amount of heartache she felt while watching that clip.

What killed her the most was that she could still remember the electric blue eyes of his that seemed to illuminate the darkness of night that day she rebelled, the very day she would now do anything to erase from history. The look of initial shock on his face when Courtney grabbed his face and smashed their lips together in one electrifying kiss... it was painful to remember such a time. If Courtney tried hard enough, she was sure she could hear the slight chatter of their friends behind them and the crickets around them and maybe even the humming of porch lights next to them. Possibly even pick up on the slight smell of cigarettes that followed Duncan everywhere (like his criminal record, as Courtney would snidely berate him, though those days were left to wither in the past), or unfortunately the resting puddle of vomit next to the porch.

“Enjoy a peanut butter-less life,” he had remarked, the words still ringing in Courtney’s head almost two years later.

“Thanks,” Courtney herself had quipped, leaning up against him. “Enjoy prison,”

“I will,” the juvenile smirked. It all felt like such a long time ago. Had it all meant nothing? Maybe it had been broadcasted around the world, but it was such a private and intimate moment between them that felt like it was for them and them alone — and yet he cheated? He turned around and kissed up her best friend with little to no remorse? Did it mean anything to him? She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

If it did, wouldn’t he had stayed? Wouldn’t he had wanted to talk things out, instead of hurting her in the worst way possible? Wouldn’t he have meant every ‘I love you,’ he said while they were still dating with no second thought? Did he even mean every ‘I love you’? Or were they just lies that tasted as sweet as honey on his tongue, that he spoon-fed to Courtney every now and then to keep her from leaving him.

She wasn’t sure what haunted her more; knowing that Duncan felt no regret for what he did or having a last kiss with no knowledge of its significance.

I do recall now

The smell of the rain

Fresh on the pavement

I ran off the plane

That July ninth

The beat of your heart

It jumps through your skin

I can still feel your arms

As odd as it felt, a few weeks have gone by since her nasty breakup with Duncan. She finally got to shove Gwen (who was swelling up from her allergic reaction at a concerning rate, but Courtney had no pity left for Gwen in her heart that the goth and Duncan were responsible for breaking) off of Chris’s jet, but to her disappointment it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as she hoped it would be. Sure, seeing Gwen’s falling figure struggle to open the parachute brought a smile to her face and earned a chuckle from Heather (and a maniacal laugh from Sierra), but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to personally shove Duncan off the plane herself, but she wouldn’t be as kind to him as she was with Gwen; she’d be taking the parachute right before she shoved the fatal push.

The feeling that came after Gwen’s elimination was hard to describe — of course, sheer joy immediately after, but after the cameras stopped rolling and Chris instructed them all to head to bed, panic took its place. Courtney knew she was a target from her fellow teammates — Heather probably wanted to chop all her hair off for flirting with her dear Alejandro; Courtney almost wished the two would get together and save Courtney the heartbreak she’d have to face that there was no one left for her. Duncan would of course crave Courtney’s elimination, and Alejandro and Sierra would probably agree to anything so as long as it wasn’t them, or Cody, in Sierra’s case. Just about everything seemed to be going her way, wasn’t it?

Courtney wasn’t even sure if she cared at this point. Should she? Of course, winning would be a great payment for everything she’s had to put up with on Total Drama, this season in particular, but at the same time, with Gwen officially out of the running, following her and going back home would feel even better.

Home. Courtney hadn’t been there in ages, and at this point she wasn’t sure what she considered home to be. There was the pristine mansion she was raised in by her lawyer parents, and while that place might have looked like the front of a magazine cover, it felt like an empty ghost of a home. Not a single thing was out of place — not a throw pillow or piece of silverware. Her parents were either always at work, travelling for a case, or holed up in their respective offices; there was rarely “family time”. Courtney was fine with this, though; that’s just how things were for the Castillo family.

There was Camp Wawanakwa, as evil and ironic as it was. For a few weeks, she lived with teenagers, not the reality stars they were now. When her friends from debate club sometimes dragged her to a rewatch of the first season, it was odd to see how different they were all back then, but at the same time, they really hadn’t changed at all. Though Courtney was unsure if she would ever step foot on that island ever again, it would always hold a place in her heart — good or bad? She hadn’t decided yet — for the beginning of whatever her life was now.

Her apartment was an option, as well. It wasn’t as much home as just the place she so happened to live in. No emotional attachment whatsoever; some boxes were still stacked in a spare coat closet, all neatly labeled in a thick Sharpie. It wasn’t that Courtney was disorganized or lazy, more like there was no use in unpacking all of her belongings in a temporary home. She moved out of her parents’ mansion as college crept closer and closer, and she hadn’t lived with her parents since last summer.

That summer felt alien at this point, looking at old photographs that were neatly organized on her cellphone. She remembered her family went on a month-long vacation in Europe, and Duncan had come to pick her up from the airport, much to her parents’ displeasure. The Castillos and Duncan did not get along, but tried to be civil for Courtney’s sake — they knew how much it could upset her when they were constantly at odds. Being civil was nowhere easy for either parties, but seeing Courtney’s happiness and hope that there was just maybe a hope that she and Duncan would be able to have a future together made it worth it.

However, seeing his arm around her waist with easy smiles on both of their lips made Courtney’s stomach lurch, just knowing what he would do a little more than a year later. It brought back too many memories that were painful to recall, and came all at once with no warning, much like a band-aid being harshly torn off the surface of a child’s knee.

That day it had been raining all afternoon, and there was still a slight drizzle and mist in the air when Courtney’s family had landed. Duncan was there, at the pickup area, with brunch for herself and her entire family from some local cafe — as much as he would deny it, deep down she just knew he was a sweetheart — and as soon as he could, he wrapped his arms around Courtney, which Courtney had gladly returned.

The smell of rose and cigarettes, a smell that had become the twisted combination of the aromas surrounding Courtney and Duncan, filled Courtney’s nose, and she couldn’t help but bask in how glorious it felt, to simply be embraced by Duncan. No bickering, no making out, just a simple sign of affection was all it took for Courtney to feel at peace. They were so close, she could’ve swore she could feel the faint beat of his heart underneath his t-shirt.

It was such a quick, and rather insignificant moment, of their relationship, that Courtney couldn’t figure out, for the life of her, why it stuck with her. Maybe because it was insignificant in the long run it was so cherishable to her — a quick, stolen moment of sweet nothings that was caught in the middle of the timeline of her rather messy and confusing relationship with Duncan.

Did Duncan still remember that July ninth? Probably not. Realistically, not. In fact, he was probably busy daydreaming making out with his new girlfriend in another all new spot on Gwen’s neck that made them feel something new that they never felt with Trent or Courtney. Not at all reminiscing on Courtney unwillingly falling in love with Duncan that July ninth in front of her parents, not at all remembering the imprint he left on her heart (though it did give her a sense of satisfaction that all Duncan could do was wish, as Courtney could gladly say she heard Gwen’s shrieks of terror as she plummeted towards the Earth at a rapid pace with a broken parachute).

Feeling a sudden chill in the air, Courtney runs her hands up and down her upper arms. As much as she hated him for it, she could still feel Duncan’s arms wrapping themselves around her, and she felt less colder.

She doubted Duncan remembered the smell of lingering rain on the pavement that July ninth, or the hand squeeze and smile she gave him, or her parents finally warming up to him when he remembered their favorite brunch meal.

She doubted he would even want to remember any of it.

But now I’ll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don’t know how to be something you missed

Never thought we’d have a last kiss

Never imagined we’d end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

Courtney wasn’t sure what to feel; upset? Angered? Humiliated? Robbed of winning, yet again? Maybe even a little relieved? They were all emotions she had felt before on the previous times she had been eliminated from Total Drama, but considering the circumstances... Courtney decided a combination of all would be the most appropriate.

She was upset she allowed herself to cheat for Alejandro, who she was only really using to spite Duncan (not like Duncan had even batted an eye, which admittedly really stung), and she was fully aware Alejandro didn’t return her feelings, but God, she hadn’t felt any joy in what felt like ages, maybe she felt Alejandro would, what, reward her? All she got was a kiss after she freshened up, and it wasn’t even that good to begin with — too much tongue for her liking.

Duncan knew how to kiss me just right. Crossed her mind, but as soon as it surfaces, she shoves it far, far down.

And she was angry, so angry that she had allowed herself to be used and manipulated, on International TV no less! She looked like exactly what she was, and she did not like it in any way, whatsoever — weak. And with that, humiliation; being cheated on, blanked, used and then sent packing with that trashy, gossip-craving Blaineley of all people was such a huge hit to her pride, Courtney was unsure if her pride would ever be able to recover, even five years from now. God, that was pathetic, the thought of still being sensitive to her Total Drama World Tour experience as a full-on adult. Definition of embarrassing. Her ego was massively bruised, and had taken such a fall that Courtney was sure she would never allow herself to get close to anyone ever again. Was it selfish? Maybe. But a businesswoman has to do what she has to do to be successful and strong, and if that meant ghosting everyone and plunging herself into her work — so be it.

However... a small, incredibly fragile fraction of herself was so relieved. Of course, she wanted to win, to show to her ex-friend and boyfriend she was more than capable of destroying them, but she had already endured so much humiliation during that season that she felt her shoulders relax a little rather than tense up before she jumped off the plane. Though the cameras didn’t show it, Courtney found herself smiling like a lunatic — like Izzy, as she had now come to realize, not that she enjoyed acknowledging it one bit — as she dived off the jet, finally free from Chris, the cameras and most of all, Duncan.

But now that she was back at her bleak apartment, she realized that cruelly ironically enough that he was more present in her own dorm even when he was across the world, with no thought or emotion to spare in her direction. The couch reeked of him, where he had spent New Years’ Eve and where they ended up falling asleep at 4 in the morning; the coffee table underneath her bare fingers felt like him, where an engraving of D+C was proudly displayed on the corner; the fridge seemed to still have him traced all over it, where she and Duncan had a huge argument in front of before he had slipped out the words “I love you” for the first time, and even the coat racket was imprinted with Duncan, where one of his jackets still hung, firm from months of not being used. Though a part of her wanted to reach out for it and wrap it around herself for some source of comfort, Courtney knew she shouldn’t — she couldn’t. But...

It was ridiculous. A stupid, humiliating and reckless idea that would take the mere shreds left of her ego, dignity and pride and bury them six feet under. But right now, nobody would know... there was no paparazzi or roommate around to expose her, and she did feel awfully cold....

Grabbing the collar of the jacket, Courtney wrapped it around her shoulders and (shamefully, she couldn’t believe she was allowing her pride to stoop even lower than it already had) dashed in her pristine bedroom and immediately opened one of her drawers; Duncan’s drawer, which was filled with even more memories, both good and bad. To be fair, they were once all good, but now they left a sour sting on Courtney’s tongue. She tore through the drawer, before fixating on one item and pulling it out — one of Duncan’s many copies of his infamous skull t-shirt.

Without even meaning to, Courtney found herself crumbling like a piece of wet gingerbread. How pathetic are you? She mentally scolded herself, but at that moment she found herself realizing she simply didn’t care. After a lifetime of being as cold and emotionless as she could be, a boy of all things is what broke her down. After being rid of Total Drama — for now, Courtney had to remind herself — and the travel, the cameras and the clothes, and now just in her pajamas and dreadfully Duncan’s jacket, Courtney couldn’t help but unleash the full power of the sobs that had been building up in Courtney since the breakup.

How was she going to get past this? Would she always be remembered as the bitch that a criminal cheated on on TV? What about her future? Would this all affect her chances in office? How could her ego possibly come back from this? Most of all, how would she cope knowing that Duncan, the nuisance criminal she’s despised for around two or three years, was gone for good and was never, ever coming back, no matter how much Courtney craved for it?

Would Duncan even miss her? Would he ever, someday in the future, when things with Gwen were rocky? Would he remember Courtney, and think of her as something he missed? Was that even a title Courtney had the chance of claiming?

Courtney craved Duncan. She wanted his presence in her apartment, she wanted his arms around her, his lips pressed on her own; she hadn’t, didn’t and probably would never have wanted a last kiss, and knowing that they were as good as done with no chance of having another stolen kiss — it was too much. How could she have let them end like this?

“D... Duncan,” The name forces itself out of Courtney’s throat and through her lips, crumpling his shirt in her hands and bringing her knees to the ground, where she continues to sob. Tossing one more item from the drawer — the wooden skull, with D+C engraved on it, looking as new as it did years ago — she hurls it at the mirror in the corner of her room, its impact cracking the glass.

Maybe in the morning Courtney would care, but at that moment, all she wanted was to be comforted by the one person who couldn’t, wouldn’t and would never comfort her ever again. All she knew was that she would never stop craving Duncan, no matter who was by her side or made her smile and laugh and shower her with kisses — the whole time she would be wishing it was Duncan instead, sharing a kiss that would be far from their last.

I do remember

The swing in your step

The life of the party, you’re showing off again

And I roll my eyes and then

You pull me in

I’m not much for dancing

But for you I did

Because I love your handshake

Meetin’ my father

I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets

How you kissed me when I was in the middle of saying something

There’s not a day that I don’t miss those rude interruptions

Courtney despised the nights that followed post-World Tour elimination; they were filled with nightmares of happier times that mocked Courtney, nightmares that were dressed like perfect, safe and welcoming dreams. Nightmares that felt like incredible dreams at first, until Courtney woke up and remembered how alone she truly was.

That night it was a random, and rather insignificant, memory of a wild party that Duncan had dragged her to. It was hosted by the cousin of a friend of Geoff’s friend, and of course Geoff and Duncan insisted that Bridgette, Courtney and DJ to come with, as much as Courtney was opposed to the idea. Duncan always made impacts, for lack of better word, on the guests, that would usually result in him adding a hundred followers to his Instagram, starting a riot and Courtney having to bail him out of jail or being kicked out by the host; it was a gamble each time.

That night, Duncan had chosen to boast in front of a group of guests on all the laws he had broken and tattoos he had gotten — just Duncan’s usual load of shit.

Courtney had rolled her eyes and sneered in disgust — just Courtney’s typical reaction to said load of shit. “God, Duncan, those tattoos are disgusting, I don’t see how you put up with them,” She had scowled. Duncan shrugged and wrapped his arm around her, leaning into Courtney, intently watching her incredibly dark and hypnotizing (at least, they were to him) eyes widen in surprise.

“You’re just no fun,” Duncan lamely insulted, poking his tongue out at her and showcasing his tongue piercing that made Courtney’s nose scrunch up.

“I am plenty of fun!” Courtney snapped.

“Really? Prove it,” Duncan challenged, jerking his head toward the dance floor. Courtney gave him a withering glare that would have turned anyone else to a mere pile of dust, before gripping his wrist and dragging her with him, determined to prove him wrong. Unbeknownst to her, he was grinning like an enamored puppy behind her.

As a slow song came on, Courtney wrapped her arms around Duncan’s neck while her wrapped his around her waist as they slowly swayed around to the beat of the song. Just as Duncan dipped her down, and Courtney felt a glamorous sensation as they both leaned toward each other and —

— suddenly, Duncan impaled a hook through Courtney (that looked all too familiar to the one he had spooked her with a long time ago) that Courtney hadn’t even noticed he had, before dropping her on the dance floor, her white dress staining with red blood like wine, as everyone else continued dancing to the romantic melody, paying no glance to Courtney.

She felt light headed while her eyelids felt like three tons, and as she fell on her knees, hunched over from the wound, she couldn’t help but notice as her eyes began to flutter shut no one spared a glance at her way; not even Duncan, who was back with his friends, showcasing the book like it was a trophy. As Courtney knew she was breathing her last breath, Duncan glanced her way and gave a crooked smirk, his eyes flashing hot with satisfaction at her pain. The ocean blue in his eyes had become a ferocious storm.

Courtney had jarred awake, hot, sweaty, emotional and desperate with the time of 2:34 staring back at her from her alarm clock. Courtney sighed with relief upon the realization it was just another nightmare about her ex-boyfriend, one that was rather cheesy anyway — what she would give to not be haunted by him as she still was. Unfortunately, as much as she hated the fact, she knew he still roamed her consciousness, subconsciousness and unconsciousness because of the fact she still loved him, even after everything, and a fraction of that love would probably live on for years to come until Courtney was on her deathbed.

With that comforting thought, Courtney groaned and turned away from her clock and towards the wall, studying the plaster like her life depended on it; anything to get her away from the angry electric blue that followed her even when her eyes were sealed shut.

It was plain annoying how she knew that she still loved Duncan, no matter how many times she was forced to re-live the brutal truth that he no longer loved her whenever she came face-to-face with a tabloid at the checkout line when she would occasionally get groceries, or search his name on the Internet to see how he was coping; maybe Courtney couldn’t face the truth, couldn’t face that maybe she was no longer in love with Duncan but instead with the memories of him that were scattered about her life.

It felt odd going to her parents’ and not having to deal with her father staring Duncan down, and for Duncan to stare right back, passive-aggressively. Not to watch both men clench each other’s hands firmly while looking at the other dead in the eye when Courtney introduced them. Now whenever she went to her parents’, all she felt was the sore reminder that in the end, the Castillos were right — Duncan was nothing but trouble and pain in the end.

It was painful going to the mall without Duncan to lean on, or his hand to clutch as they would lazily walk around the shops. Or how Courtney no longer had to unfold each of Duncan’s clothes from being inside-out in the laundry or hand a mountain of objects found in Duncan’s pockets to him before stuffing his pants in the washer. Duncan used to (or maybe he still did, Courtney would have no idea,) stuff anything and everything he possibly could into his pockets — keys, empty wrappers of gum, cigarettes or small things he’d pick pocketed, even spare change (though Courtney used to mock him for still carrying pennies around — who does that? She’d tease).

“That’s what you get for always walking with your hands in your pockets,” Courtney used to barate. “Someday, you’re going to end up washing your wallet if it isn’t for me,”

“Yeah, well, you’ll always be here, so that’s not a concern,” Duncan had winked back.

All Courtney could do now was scowl at how that had aged.

Hell, Courtney found herself missing their arguments — mostly over the small and rather unimportant things, they were ironically some of her fondest memories. Half the time their arguments would end up with the two making out after Duncan had silenced her with a kiss, and Courtney was now well-aware no one would ever interrupt her in such a way ever again.

Duncan was the only person who Courtney would allow to interrupt her, though now he wouldn’t want to even listen to her, let alone care enough to plant a kiss on her lips when she was in the middle of talking. Courtney had never wanted someone to interrupt her more than she wanted Duncan to.

And I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is that

I don't know how to be something you miss

Never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep

And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe

And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are

Hope it's nice where you are

( TIME JUMP: 4 Months after TDAS )

Two months after coming home, Courtney found herself slowly healing from the damage that Duncan had caused on her heart. Two more months after that, Courtney found herself genuinely able to smile after that without the desire for Duncan and Gwen to be by her side; a year after that, Total Drama All Stars has been done for four months and Courtney lived day-to-day life without thinking of either Duncan or Gwen.

Courtney had been laying low for that time; obnoxious, gossip-hungry tabloids had asked for a “statement” from her whenever Gwen or Duncan or one of her ex-contestants found themselves on a headline, but Courtney shot them down every time — her ego might have taken a huge hit from World Tour and that episode from All Stars, but she wasn’t desperate enough to willingly make an appearance and be interviewed by Celebrity Manhunt.

The questions for “statements” seemed to blur over time; do you have any words of advice for Heather, who suspects Alejandro of cheating? Have you heard Trent’s new single? Rumor has it it’s about Gwen and Duncan! Speaking of Gwen and Duncan, if they were reading this, what would you say to them?

It was an endless and rather tiring cycle of the paparazzi trying to lure a reaction out of her, which Courtney refused to give into.

However, one day as Courtney was loading her groceries on a conveyor belt at the local grocery store, a headline from a tabloid caught her eye. All Courtney read were the words Totally Dramatic, and Courtney knew she should look away — they were the same magazine that publicly called Courtney a bitch a few months ago, which she would never forget. Though she had self-control in public, she found that at 11PM on a Friday night she had little to no self-control and found herself pulling open her laptop and typing Totally Dramatic in the search bar on Safari.

Almost immediately, the faces of her ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend take over her screen, with the text underneath that’s all too hard to miss — Gwuncan Engagement Rumors Confirmed!?

Courtney could feel her the pit of her stomach drop and her heart shatter as it crashed to the ground below her.

It wasn’t that she missed Duncan — she didn’t! It was just that she so good at her job of avoiding Gwen and Duncan’s names like the plague she was blissfully unaware that they had gotten back together.

She would be lying if Courtney said she hadn’t thought of reaching out to Gwen — and shamefully, it would be a lie if Courtney swore she never considered sending a drunk text to Duncan (thankfully, she never had; it was a nightmare just thinking of the embarrassment that would cause) — but always decided against it because of three reasonings; there was no way either would want to hear from her, they hated her guts and Courtney would never allow her dignity to stoop as low as it had during the third season ever again.

But now — now Courtney was sure she would never reach out. Not even a quick Congratulations! text, not a gift basket, not even show up to Gwen’s bachelorette party if she felt bold enough. Courtney was positive that she was reduced to the stalking ex, browsing through both of their Instagrams, watching them mature and fall back in love through their own photographs. It was... strange, to say the least.

What was this feeling that was erupting inside her? It wasn’t jealousy, she had gotten over Duncan months ago, but it wasn’t sadness, resentment or anger, either. It was like the feeling of realizing that, as ironically and unbelievable as it was, the two had grown up without Courtney, and all she could do was watch from a distance. Watch them slowly move on from their memories of Courtney — both bad and good — until the mention of her left both indifferent; Courtney was almost positive that being hated by the two would be less painful than knowing that at one point, they were the closest and best people in her life and now they couldn’t care less on how Courtney was.

Courtney used to watch Gwen paint and draw with such concentration that she was sure she would be held accountable for messing her art up if she just so much as breathed too loudly. The furrow between her brows would deepen and the stormy gray of her eyes would be clouded over with concentration and care, and Courtney found herself wishing that she was as passionate about something as Gwen was of her art. Sure, she had her studies in law, but Gwen’s skills — they were truly beautiful. She used to watch Gwen’s head very thrown back a little when she laughed a little too hard, and how tears would leak from the corner of her eyes from laughter so easily. Or how whenever Gwen dyed her hair again, she would unintentionally run her fingers through it all of the time, leaving Courtney wandering just how soft her hair could possibly be with her double-conditioning. But now she would witness all of Gwen’s happiness through her phone’s screen when she would look up her name on Instagram.

Courtney also used to watch Duncan do so many miscellaneous things that it would be impossible to list them all; like how his eyes would glint with joy whenever he would successfully break a law, a small shot of success and pride to keep him going. Or how, as much as he stated he hated them, always showing great amounts of concern when his friends or family were stressed and immediately began brainstorming how to make them feel better. Or how no matter how tough he pretended to be, when he slept, he just looked so peaceful that it was impossible to find yourself able to avoid falling for him. But now all she’d be seeing of him was his face plastered on a tabloid, probably with his arms around Gwen’s waist.

Maybe she was being overdramatic, but it really was ironic how at one point, she had held them both so close she could feel them breathe but now all she felt was herself slowly becoming more and more insignificant to the two of them, until she was nothing more than just a blurry memory and a face that was hard to recall among others.

Someday in the future, she could already picture herself casually asking Bridgette how Duncan was, since he was still friends with Geoff and DJ, afterall — what would she be expecting? For him to be struggling to make a living and pay rent? For Duncan to be unhappy with his life and relationship? For Gwen and Duncan to experience as much pain as they inflicted on her?

Deep down, she knew the real answer; no matter how many times they’d backstab the other, Courtney just wanted Gwen and Duncan to have the best, even if it killed her to admit it.

A small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if they felt the same about her, too.

And I hope the sun shines

And it's a beautiful day

And something reminds you

You wish you had stayed

You can plan for a change in weather and time

But I never planned on you changing your mind

Maybe one day Duncan would look back on their relationship like Courtney had been doing for months — or maybe, a small part of her hoped, he had been.

All Courtney could hope for was that someday in the future, when Courtney had found peace and Gwen and Duncan were happily moving on to whatever chapter of their lives lied ahead of them, something small would catch Duncan’s eye — a picture of her on the news, a box that reeked of memories of her, even the mere mention of her name — would send him back in time to when they were sixteen and still in love and clueless to the cruel world around them, and maybe a small part of him that he thought died when he was a teenager would blossom again with the wish that he had stayed; they would always be their own biggest what-ifs.

Courtney had planned anything and everything in her life ahead of time; one thing she hadn’t ever expected? Duncan to give up on her and leave her with a last kiss while she still craved for more. And while he had moved on, Courtney was stuck in the past, but that was okay — if he could move on, so could she, and her while that may take time, she was fully prepared to wait it out; she may have been painted as the villain of the story, but she also deserved her happily ever after.

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is that

I don’t know how to be something you miss

Never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

Just like our last kiss

Forever the name on my lips

Just like our last

#duncney #writing angsty and sad duncney in 2020?#couldn’t be me #total drama #td courtney #td duncan #gwuncan #td gwen #total drama world tour #total drama all stars #pls td tumblr forgive me #WHY DID I WRITE SM #song fic #song fic oneshots are my jam #please forgive me for writing all of this #enjoy angsty courtney is it obvious i love her with my entire heart

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fall-to-rise-98 · 3 years

Text

Divergent, Eric+OC

Kingdom Fall: Amity Reject

Before choosing Dauntless at her choosing ceremony and becoming a true Dauntless member Amity-born Anna never felt accepted in her faction, but she took a leap of faith and learned fast how to make it through initiation. She took her aptitude test and got Divergent though, having shown an affinity for three other factions: Abnegation, Erudite, and Candor. Peace was something she wasn’t accustom to and she had been known to become violent at times, so that ruled out Amity. Dauntless was for the brave and courageous, which she could manage. Although some fears she thought seemed permanently etched onto her soul. Before choosing Dauntless Anna had also never known true love, then she met Eric. The cold, stone-faced leader of the Dauntless initiates. They butted heads from the moment they met with Anna’s sarcastic, cynical personality and his quick temper. It took some time for Anna to break through Eric’s metal armor and as dangerous as she knew it was to be near him, her being Divergent, it excited her all the same. Her life was at risk being around Eric, but this was what she wanted when she left behind Amity: the chance to finally be free. If she had to die eventually, just for the sweet taste of freedom, then she was determined to go out with a bang.

A/N: Each post for this story may be short or long, depending on how much creative juice I can squeeze out. Each post may or may not be in order, just enjoy the ride. I will update as often as I can, since I am also writing another fanfic for Little Vampire on my main fanfiction account here ⎯ https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13791424/1/Sweet-But-Psycho. Also, trigger warnings abound: vulgar language, physical abuse, mental abuse, adult themes (y’all know what that means), mentions of suicide (won’t go into detail), death, and of course ⎯ violence.

The Choosing Ceremony: Part 1

Raise Hell

youtube

Bored.

Anna felt her eyelids trying to shut of their own accord, thought she chanted in her mind: stay awake, stay awake.

Stay, a-fucking-wake.

She wasn’t quite comfortable though, the position she was in. Wedged between her step-father (abusive asshole) and her mother (the lamb in the lion’s den) in a row of stiff, plastic chairs. Surrounded by smiling, juiced-up crowd of other Amity citizens.

Fools, the lot of them.

Hopped up on happy serum. Everyone always gets a dose of the sickly sweet, bright pink liquid once a week. It was a potent potion made to “keep the sins of anger at bay,” which Anna found absolutely ridiculous.

It felt like a violation of free will.

She happened to like the idea of free will. It was something she longed for and had wanted for many years. Especially when her mother Kimberly decided she wanted to settle down with the man who tormented them both on a daily basis, which Anna could not stand. At all.

Sometimes she would lay in her bed at night, unable to sleep and covered in bruises, feeling sorry for her mother. Sometimes Anna thought her mother would have been better off growing a spine, just like she did.

She didn’t want to accept the abuse any longer, especially after the incident almost a year ago on her sixteenth birthday. It was the most terrifying moment she ever experienced in her life.

The night was rainy, but it wasn’t noiseless. She could hear the faint melody of the Amity sector. The shrill singing of small children, the merry laughter of adults. It was all outside of her house though. There was a different kind of noise inside her home, where happiness and joy seemed a million miles away.

It was the sound of silence, a calm before the storm. The atmosphere in the house was thick and could not be cut so easily with a knife. A heavy, ominous presence hung in between the casual “pass the salt” or “how was school today?” chatter. No “did you have a good day?”

No “happy birthday, sweetie.”

Andrew sat at her left at the kitchen table during dinner, as quiet and menacing as a snake slithering in the grassy fields. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Strike you dead, if by the look on his face.

Something was getting under his skin bad and her mother was doing nothing except cowering in her seat to her right, trying to keep up a happy charade with a fake smile plastered on her face. It faltered often, but no one ever commented.

No one cared enough to speak out and ask some serious questions.

To involve themselves in our family drama, to help.

Help was not something the Amity community usually gave out, from kindness of their hearts or just out of pure curiosity. Why does Anna keep to herself and always has a negative outlook on life? Why does Kimberly never talk to anyone?

To everyone else, Andrew is viewed as an angel. A model citizen with a charming attitude and good soul.

If only the Amity people would stop turning a blind eye to everything around them. Maybe the world would really be a better place. Everyone just might be able to get along.

Then Andrew turned to her with a smile on his face, it was sudden and filled with dazzling teeth. He was a handsome man for his age, mid-forties with a head full of thick salt and pepper hair. Green eyes the color of jade, staring her down with malice. Hardened and angry.

What had she done this time? She was being responsive to every question or comment, asked by either of them. Eating her dinner quietly otherwise, head bent down to avoid confrontation. It was a defense mechanism Anna knew worked best with Andrew and most of the time she tried hard to keep her step-father placate.

This was how you survived in her house.

“How was your day, baby girl?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

Anna snapped to attention, her startled dark-blue eyes meeting the amused expression on Andrew’s face. She was taken aback at the pet name, one she hadn’t heard him use in years, and glanced at her mother.

She hesitated, a pause of breath which irritated Andrew.

Kimberly was staring at her second husband with the look of a frightened animal, gaping mouth and teary-eyed. There was something in her eyes, all wide and watery, that made Anna’s blood run cold.

It was a look she only saw once.

The first time Andrew took his anger out on them.

But that was then and this is now.

Andrew was glaring at Anna now, slamming his knife down on the table. “When I ask a question I expect you to know the answer immediately and respond back to me. Have we not had this conversation before?”

Her mother surprised her.

She spoke out against Andrew, although as timid and small as the plea was.

“Andrew, don’t. Please.”

Andrew turned away from Anna then, but Anna knew it would only be brief and the strike would be swift. Once for speaking out of turn, across the mouth.

Twice for telling him what to do, on the hand.

Three times for standing up to him, which Anna only experienced one time.

It made her angry. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this. Her fingers gripped tightly to her silverware as she studied the scene before her.

Prepared to either watch as her step-father descended upon her mother or step in between the two with the threat of a studded belt across the ass.

Andrew was satisfied only mildly when Kimberly shrunk even further into her chair and raised an eyebrow, “Why not? You never said anything when I brought it up before. So I obviously assumed I had the right to ask Anna herself.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

What in the flying fuck was going on between these two?

Something was off with both of them, a feeling of dread filling the pit of her stomach making it toss and turn the food contents she was previously piling down her throat.

Though fear crept in there was also confusion and mild curiosity. Alarm bells rang off in her head though. Voices telling her to run away, get up from the table and run away, get away from the whole situation now.

Kimberly glanced over at her daughter and choked on a sob, “Happy birthday. I love you, baby, I hope you know that.”

She felt sick suddenly, then jumped to her feet at the feeling of a rough hand brushing her thigh. Anna felt the scream in her throat, but managed to keep it from filling the house.

Andrew would not like that.

It could have been a mistake.

But he was grinning at her now, glancing from the expression on her face to the face of her mother. Kimberly felt anger course through her momentarily and she blurted out, “Stop it! Don’t you touch her like that.”

In an instant, as fast as a lightning bolt appearing and disappearing, Andrew was on his feet with the knife and leaping over the table at Kimberly.

Anna felt her vision blur for a moment, then go blood red at hearing her mother’s horrifying scream. She heard the plates fall from the table and shatter, heard the chair her mother was sitting in hit the ground with a thud as he tackled her to the floor.

It filled her with absolute rage.

Andrew had only intended on scaring Kimberly, threatening her with the knife against the throat, but enraged as Anna jumped onto his back he flung her off with ease.

Then turned to her, a frightening smile on his face.

The smile of a psychopath.

“You see, I had a little talk with your mother the other night after dinner. It was really interesting. You left rather quickly, talking about how you were going to check up on a friend before bed. That was a mistake, you know. You have no friends.”

Anna was winded, having hit the table with her shoulders which scraped it’s wooden legs across the oak flooring, and hitched a breath at Andrew’s words. At this point Kimberly was scrambling away, for the stairs, leaving Anna to fend for herself.

Why wouldn’t her mother do something about this man?

What was going on this time?

“As you know your mother is 8 years older than I am and these past couple of years together have not suited her well. But you, my dear, have grown into a fine young woman and I feel it may be time for a change around here.”

She scrambled to her feet, prepared now to defend herself until she couldn’t.

This was one battle she wasn’t going down without a fight for.

What needed to change was his ego, his pride. His sadistic cruelty.

Andrew was faster, grabbing onto her legs as she started to run. He lunged at her like a football linebacker and they both fell to the floor. He laughed when she wriggled underneath him and fought to turn her on her back.

“Come on, don’t you want to wrestle with your step-daddy?”

Since then Anna began to train during her free time. Of course there was no use for gym equipment in Amity because of the farming business, but she had seen videos on her tablet (stolen from one of the Erudite-born at school) on how to build muscle and strength.

Exercise videos that were played during health class, but not performed in the school. There was no physical education in her school that required actual physical labor. That was saved for after school. Chores, either at home or on the farm.

She didn’t want to ever be put in that position again. Since that night Anna was preparing herself, physically and mentally, for the choosing ceremony. The choosing ceremony she was finally attending after six months of hard work and waiting. She would be free.

She would finally be happy.

Andrew was expecting her to remain in Amity, he had said so himself the night before, but Kimberly had not spoken a word in three days.

Anna glanced back and forth between them both, hiding behind a curtain of pale blonde hair. It was freshly washed as of this morning and she was wearing tan shorts with a bright, yellow tank-top. She knew once she chose Dauntless she would be running towards the train with the other initiates, she always came to the ceremonies with her “family” and she loved watching the Dauntless run for the fast-moving locomotive.

They were always shouting and screaming, but out of pure excitement.

It was their new beginning and now it would be her new beginning.

Although sitting quiet and stiff among the other Amity she was listening for the names of each new Dauntless initiate.

Hardy, Ian. Candor.

Higgins, Samantha. Erudite.

Jonas, Zeke. Candor.

Larson, Holiday. Abnegation.

Maddox, Avery. Erudite.

Marsden, Jamie. Abnegation.

“Thatcher, Anna.”

It was time.

Her time.

#divergent #eric coulter #oc #fanfic #short stories

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nishigo · 4 years

Text

lunar new year. // todoroki shouto x reader.

lunar new year. // todoroki shouto x reader

hello! hope you have had a lovely day, here’s a little todoroki love for you all as the Chinese New Year starts tomorrow! much love to you all~

words : 1528

tw : none , fluffy fluff !

request status at time of post : open !

in which he failed the first time to convey his feelings, but luckily, he had another shot.

————

Todoroki glances at the small house, tilting his head softly as he glanced from the red packets in his hands to the soft glow of the candles guiding towards the backyard. He heard the chatter in the background, how everyone from class had joined together to celebrate the lunar new year. Although rarely celebrated in Japan, many of those in the area decided to support their Chinese neighbors and cheerfully greet the new year. It was also another reason to party, which no one could deny. Your parents had decided to go to their friend's house to celebrate, leaving you with just the house to yourself until tomorrow. It was smaller than most, however, after doing a small raffle, your name was drawn from the jar and here he was, in front of your home.

Todoroki has just gotten back from seeing his mother in the hospital, in which he had finished ranting to her about what would partake in the night. Of course he was nervous, you were the only person who could make him feel such a way. His mom reassured him that everything would be fine, but what if it was not? He shook his head, no time for that now. It is also where he got his red packets from, as everyone was forced to bring something as a token of cheer, whether it be food or games, and needless to say, the boy was not exactly poor. His mother insisted to stick to tradition, smiling at her son as he took them with a swift nod but slight concern. A sigh escaped his lips as he began to walk towards the back, hoping for the best as he kept a relatively cool demeanor.

Todoroki walked into your backyard and took in the sight. It has a large tree sprouting from the ground, lanterns of all colors, shapes, and sizes hanging with various symbols in both Chinese and Japanese wishing good luck for the new year. Bamboo lined along the white picket fence, little red banners hanging off their small branches with stars and more writing Todoroki did not recognize. All around the tree were small tables, and various red mats were sprawled around them for his friends to sit and talk, whether about school or how excited they were. A long table lined the side of the house, food decorating every inch of it. The smell of moon cake, rice, pork dumplings, and duck filled his nose, making his mouth water slightly as he walked closer. The whole place was brightly lit up, decorations of stars of gold and red painting his vision, along with various peonies, carnations, and orchids. It was amazing how much effort you had put into making this an enjoyable experience for all, and frankly, he was touched.

“It’s Todoroki!” The boy whipped his head around and looked at the owner of the voice, who happened to be Midoriya. He sported a red sweater and black pants, grinning from ear to ear. Actually, everyone was decked out somehow with the color, whether it be a simple bracelet to Kirishima, who had on a red outfit head to toe. Todoroki got pulled towards the food, where he finally saw you for the first time this night.

You had your hair brushed out and away from your face, eyes sparkling as you served food and made conversation with all of your friends. Your energetic attitude was contagious, and Todoroki could not help but smile at how cute you were when you were passionate about something. Sporting a red jean jacket and gold bracelets, earrings, and necklaces, you looked right at home as you explained to Iida what eating long noodles symbolizes to the Chinese. As he picked up a plate and began to grab some food, he caught your eyesight and gladly went up to him to talk

“Hey! Todoroki, I am so glad you could make it! And- Oh! Red envelopes? Here, let’s add them to the pile over here, I will be handing them out later after everyone settles down from the food.” You took them from him quickly, putting them into a basket full to the brim of various family names and money. Turning back around to face him, you paused as you opened your mouth slowly and began again.

“Hey, Todo, mind heading inside with me? I need to pull out some more food, looks like noodles and dumplings are running out.” Todoroki blushes lightly at the nickname as he nodded, watching as you made your way towards the back door and allowed him to slip in with you and towards the kitchen.

Trays of food were stacked on top of each other, still piping hot as he shuffled quietly behind you. You took a deep inhale, exhaling loudly as you took some trays and separated them from the rest, supposedly what was needed more outside. It was a bit weird for once, since both of you were quiet and there was no one else around. Maybe this was an opening, maybe he could-

“Take these outside for me, will you?” He retracted his outstretched arm, quietly sighing as he nodded and grabbed the various trays and doing obediently as he was told.

The night unpaused after that brief moment alone with you. His heart was racing inside his chest. Jeez, it’s as if you used his own fire quirk against himself, he was heating up just looking at you. He went on to sit at your table along with Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka. He chewed his food silently, internally praising you for your delicious seasoning on the pork buns. With his cheeks stuffed, the conversation varied in the night, but all he could focus on was you. He saw words come out of your lips, but no response was made on his part. Just sitting by you was enough for him, and he was content with the positioning. It was bugging him, though, that he had not completed his final motive, and he only had a little time left to succeed.

The hours began to lengthen, and soon enough, people were starting to leave. You had handed out all the red envelopes and it was fun to see people jump for joy at how much cash they were getting. One by one, he watched as his classmates received a hug and a wave from you, holding various leftovers as the food coma was beginning to hit and drowsiness arose. He waved off his friends goodbye, cracking a small smile as he then turned around to see you working hard to get everything put away. With a large amount of pity from him, he sighed and began to help you pack up tables and stack mats. Lanterns were turned off one by one, and with a quick flick of his fingers, a frosty blast sent all of the candles out, nothing but smoke left.

Inside, you two panted as the effects of doing so much hit you all at once. Stretching slightly, you pulled your hair tie down and he watched as your face was cupped by your lovely locks. Now, since it was just the two of you and silence, he decided to break out. May his mother’s words be true, and with courage, he spoke.

“Y/N, a word?” You glanced back at him in small confusion, grinning from ear to ear as you shuffled close to him, signaling for him to continue.

“I missed it at the beginning of January, and I was meant to tell you that night. However, I never gained the courage to do so, so tonight…” He took a shaky inhale, glancing away softly as he pulled out a packet he had saved for you along with some deep red roses, making you stop in your tracks in awe.

“I wanted to try again, since the lunar new year is another beginning. Basically, I am here to say I’m in love with you. No, wait, scratch that, I’m infatuated with you. You make my head spin and makes me freeze up and melt at the same time. So, would you happen to want to become...a couple?” He repeated his phrase that he had said over a million times in the mirror, hoping that his words would be enough. He could not read your reaction for a second, but soon enough, tears began to flow out of your eyes as you nodded sweetly, taking his red envelope and flowers into your hands and quickly grabbing him into a hug. Although Todoroki did stumble a bit, he caught his balance and hugged back, a breath of relief flying into his lungs before he began to smile and bury his face into your neck shyly. A sweet blush overtook both your faces, and innocently, you pecked his cheek with the brightest smile in existence and he mimicked your actions back at you. Elated, exhilarated, overjoyed, you two were many things, but to describe it the best...

You both were over the moon as the ringing of fireworks popped in the background, signaling the start of the new lunar year and your relationship.

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serpentmythos · 4 years

Text

Scars - Baron Draxum/OC One Shot

3.8k words, SWF (Mentions of gore, blood, and mild nudity)

A monstrous snarl echoed through the maze of tunnels that was New York's Underground City, followed by the slamming of something heavy on metal. A clawed hand lashed out, ripping paper from corkboard and sending pages fluttering through the air, only to settle haphazardly across the concrete beneath. Baron Draxum grit his teeth, eyeing the discarded notes with the purest of malice and malcontent. "Now now, My Lord, that can't be good for your blood pressure..." A mythic-sounding female voice sounded from behind him, one that the warring warrior scientist had grown accustomed to hearing as time passed. He let out another snarl, looking over his shoulder to glare at the immortal Queen of Egypt. "Your Majesty..." He growled, tone filled with warning, one that the woman clearly didn't heed.

Nafretiri chuckled and shook her head, folding her arms under her chest and giving him a knowing grin. "Errors in your stoichiometry again?" She questioned, and Draxum groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead and dragging it down his face. "No matter what I try, I can't seem to get the same results as the first!" He griped, turning around and slamming his hands on the metal lab table, making laboratory glassware shudder and shake in protest. A few empty test tubes rolled off the table and threatened the shatter on the ground, but with a snap of her fingers, a golden aura surrounded them. The tubes floated lazily through the air before righting themselves back into their proper racks. "Well, you certainly aren't going to get the same results by throwing a tantrum."

“You’d be wise to hold your tongue, woman.” Draxum warned, which made the enchantress roll her one remaining eye and scowl. “And a Baron would be wise to not order a Queen’s silence.” She snapped back without missing a beat. Draxum sighed, not having an appetite for Nafretiri’s sass at the moment. He needed to figure out what was going wrong in his formula notes, but now that a distraction was here in the form of The Oracle, his mind had little energy left to devote to focusing on his work… Watching the way his shoulders relaxed, and hearing the breath that left his lips, Nafretiri smirked.

“Come away from the table, Draxum. Allow me to help you with relieving a little stress.” She spoke, waving her hand and materializing a golden staff, a striking cobra coiled around the upper quarter of it. The Baron let out a low chuckle, knowing precisely what the enchantress was referring to. “With pleasure, Your Majesty.” He muttered, producing a pair of purple seed pods in his palm. A wicked grin spread across Nafretiri’s wine red lips, gold snake bite piercings glinting in the dim green light of the underground laboratory. Draxum turned, an insane grin of his own plastered on his face. The two relocated to a more spacious and open area of the lab, standing on opposing sides of the great room. Crushing a seed pod in each hand, a toxic purple slime encrusted up the length of Draxum’s arms, spikes erupting from various places upon his limbs. With the subtlest of nods, Nafretiri raised her arms, one clutching her staff, the other facing her open palm towards the male in front of her. Her palm brushed against the back of the golden cobra’s hood, its ruby eyes beginning to glow a brilliant red. The same golden miasma that surrounded the test tubes earlier began to envelope the cobra and her empty hand, a golden aura flickering from her eye as well. “O Geb, Mighty Lord of Land and Earth, lend me your Might!” She called, voice echoing with a bizarre power that had since been lost to times long ago. “Rise ye, soldiers, my Sentinels of the Desert Sands! Strike down this enemy of The Pharaoh, so your Queen commands it!”

As she recited her incantation, she moved her other arm out towards him, her open palm now facing the ground beneath her. Sand began cascading down from her palm, and pouring out of the golden cobra’s gaping mouth, the grit flowing freely around its bared fangs. Slowly the mounting piles of sand began to take shape, morphing themselves into pairs of tall and imposing looking golems, broad-shouldered and solidly built. Draxum’s grin only grew as he witnessed The Oracle channeling her magic. It was other-worldly, graceful, powerful to behold. No matter how many times he had borne witness to it, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and his skin prickle with excitement. The woman before him truly was a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps if he could convince her to join his cause…? He didn’t have the luxury of time to finish his internal musings, as one of her Sentinels rushed him, stone spear poised to impale itself through his abdominal cavity. He raised his arms into a quick guard, the stone spear point shattering upon impact with his armored limbs. A swipe of his hand summoned a massive vine, the wood-y plant’s flesh colored the same toxic purple as his arms. The vine twirled and whipped about, thrusting itself through the Sentinel’s chest. With one swift flicking motion, the sand golem was sent flying through the air, crashing into another and both collapsing into dust. The sheer giddiness the Baron felt was clear in his expression. Golems could not feel the same pain that he and The Oracle could. Draxum could be as ruthless and destructive as he wanted to be with them, with no fear of repercussions. He could rip them apart and fling them about like ragdolls without a care. And sometimes that was the purest form of joy in the world.

And thanks to Nafretiri’s magic, there were endless waves of the sand brutes to work through, further honing his skill, perfecting his fighting style, testing the limits of his stamina. This was a challenge, and oh, how Draxum loved a good challenge. Despite the seemingly infinite supply of golems, he made it his silent goal to push Nafretiri’s defenses back, to corner her, to exercise his superiority over the Queen. He would tear down her walls of Sentinels one by one until there was nothing left! Force that haughty woman to bow before him! Another Sentinel fell, and another. Vines whipped and flailed, writhed and stabbed, cutting down the golems one by one as they rushed mindlessly towards the warrior scientist. Ones that managed to slip though his botanical defenses, Draxum finished off himself with nothing more than a few well-placed strikes. The more golems she created, the more Draxum found himself falling into a frenzy, relishing in the delight that the sandy carnage surrounding him brought. But, he might have been the only one enjoying it…

Across from the Baron, behind the much taller forms of the Sentinels, Nafretiri’s arms quaked. Sweat beaded along her brow, and her teeth gritted together from the strain. Usually Draxum was satisfied with just a few dozen golems slaughtered, but he was pushing well into the hundreds, now. This was far more than she could handle without more advanced preparations! As each Sentinel fell to Draxum’s might, Nafretiri felt her consciousness fading. She was only barely aware of the toxic purple vines creeping closer to her, and Draxum pressing further into her defenses. A vine swept a wave of Sentinels out of the way, and it coiled itself snugly around her waist. However, it had only just begun to bring her closer to Draxum, when everything went dark. Her body slumped and her grip on her staff slackened, before the golden artifact slipped out of her fingers entirely, falling to the floor with a metallic clatter. Without her staff to channel her magic, the Sentinels froze in place and soon collapsed into piles of sand once again, before slowly beginning to fade from existence entirely. Draxum let out a laugh of triumph, and as the last Sentinels began to freeze and fall at his cloven feet, he prepared to gloat over his apparent victory. Except, instead of the Queen standing there with a displeased scowl like he expected, her slack form in his vine caught him off guard. “Nafretiri…?” Her name had barely left his lips before her body went completely limp, head falling forward and her golden mantle falling, the crown rolling away from her and coming to rest at his feet.

His eyes went wide in shock, and slowly he began to approach the unconscious body of the Queen. “Your… Majesty?” Draxum questioned, reaching out to lift her chin. However, when his clawed fingers were just a few inches away from her, a great golden spark leapt from her body to his, electrifying him and making him snarl in pain and surprise. He grit his teeth and withdrew his hand, as a warmth cascading from his hand up and through his body. He looked up when the pulses of magic began radiating from his form, and the same pulses came from the slumped form of the enchantress in his vines. A few more pulses, this time slower, before the magical energy froze in the air. Draxum looked about in confusion, letting out a small shout when the energy suddenly imploded in on the two, and promptly exploded back out, only this time it was different.

The explosion of magical energy seemed to transform the empty room they were in. Great stone pillars erupted from the ground, stone walls came alive with colorful murals depicting hunts, coronation ceremonies, images of war. Gold, ghostly silhouettes of hundreds of people began to fill the room, their faint and echoing voices chattering in a tongue he couldn’t understand. A pair of great wooden doors swung open, and music swelled. A procession began to file in, and figures that he could only assume were religious ones entered first, swinging metal pots of burning incense and filling the air with smoke. He tried to dodge out of the way but froze instead, when he realized that the ghostly priestesses simply… Walked right through him. As if HE were the apparition here... The musicians came next, plucking their harps and lutes, shaking strange loops of metal that made sounds like tambourines, banging their animal skin drums, clapping their hands to a beat he was unfamiliar with. His eyes widened further as the next group came in, taking him aback completely. He stumbled back and tripped over Nafretiri’s crown, falling to the ground as the dancers moved in. The chiming of bells reached him, flowing skeins of dyed, sheer muslin graced every woman, with thick gilded necklaces being the only thing obscuring their breasts from prying eyes. His eyes fell on one dancer in particular, and familiarity tugged hard at his mind. Why did he feel as if he knew her...?

Her hair was woven into dozens upon dozens of braids, multitudes of fine gold and glass beads adorning each one. Her makeup accentuated her beautiful face, but what sparked his memory wasn’t her face, but instead it was her eyes… That same piercing gaze that always seemed to look into his very soul… “Nafre…tiri?” He asked, slowly coming to a stand as the apparition of the now-mortal enchantress made her way towards him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her graceful form, her dance was absolutely hypnotizing! The way her body moved and flexed, each motion flowing into the next so smoothly… It took his breath away. He tried to reach out to her, but the door slammed shut behind the end of the procession, and the celebration scene suddenly flashed out of existence. He started as they were suddenly in a courtyard, two young men vying for the affections of a now more modestly (well, modest by ancient standards) dressed Nafretiri. One tried to woo her with gifts of tigers’ pelts and exotic perfumes, while the other recited poems of his own writing. The next scene flashed, and she was kneeling with one of the young men in some kind of religious temple, in front of rectangular pool, floating flowers on the water and praying to a massive stone statue of a falcon-headed man. Movement out of the corner of his eye made Draxum turn his head, and the first young man from before was hiding behind a pillar, scowling and his eyes filled with heartbreak and bitter envy.

The hazy apparitions continued to show the progression of Nafretiri’s life. The passing of the previous Pharaoh from illness, the younger of his twin sons ascending to the throne with Nafretiri as his Queen, the older twin becoming his advisor. The couple in the Pharaoh’s bed chambers, bodies obscured by a veil, but silhouettes depicting a passionate embrace and a kiss that only two lovers could ever hope to share. A religious ceremony with the Pharaoh and his Queen sitting on raised thrones carried by soldiers, Nafretiri’s belly swollen and round with child. The pained screaming of the new mother as she lay in an ornately decorated pool of water, squeezing her King’s hand as midwives attended to the birthing of the young prince. The crying baby boy being lifted from the water, his umbilical cord cut with a knife, and both cord and afterbirth placed in a dish for sacrifice to the goddesses in exchange for the child’s protection. Nafretiri whimpered as the midwife handed her the little prince, and through her tears of pain she was smiling the dreamiest of smiles. She whispered something that sounded like a blessing (Draxum couldn’t be sure, this birthing process as a whole was something he had never seen before), kissing the crying baby’s forehead and nuzzling him close to her breast. The child grew before his eyes, from a crying newborn, to a babbling baby, and finally a rambunctious toddler that the slaves and nursemaids would chase endlessly throughout the palace. The Pharaoh scooped the boy into his arms, laughing heartily and carrying the prince outside to his mother, where she was dressed for a journey and seated in a barge for a trip down river. She bid a tearful farewell to her son, and kissed her husband, before a blessing was said over the barge by priests, and sailed off down the river, fading away.

It was only now that Draxum realized that the Pharaoh’s advisor had been present through every apparition, always nearby, but never truly getting involved. Always eyeing his brother and nephew with malice. But this time, he noticed the absence of the older twin. Draxum caught a glimpse of the man behind another pillar, holding a perforated earthen ware pot, with a muslin lid secured over the top with a red cord, and a manic grin on his face. The half-mutant snarled a bit, not liking the look of that pot in the slightest. Something was amiss. Some more timed passed, and the Pharaoh and little prince were napping peacefully in the Pharaoh’s bed chamber. Silent as a mouse, the advisor crept in, carefully setting down the pot and undoing the red cord. Tipping the pot over with his foot, ashen gray and tan scales of an Egyptian cobra could be seen. Slowly, the serpent slithered its way out of the ceramic vessel. It lifted a portion of its body off of the floor, raising its head before slithering towards the bed, silently moving its body under the linen covers, where the ruler and young heir were sleeping. The advisor picked up the pot and closed the wooden door to the bed chamber. Not long after, as the advisor was walking down the hall, the high-pitched and pained shrieking of the toddler prince, and the panicked shouts of the Pharaoh sent the palace staff sprinting towards the bed chamber.

The scene that flashed next, was a gut wrenching one. Nafretiri walking up from the tomb of her now-mummified husband and son, eyes puffy, and red from crying. The older twin feigned sympathy, hugging the woman, comforting her. It made Draxum’s blood boil. The funerary procession marched somberly back through the desert to the capital city. The apparitions progressed further, showing the older twin rising to rule, and exercising his newfound power in such a ruthless fashion that it shocked even Draxum. Monuments of the old Pharaoh were toppled, his burial tomb destroyed, scrolls burned, murals torn down, and repainted. Those who mentioned the old king or young prince were publically executed. This new Pharaoh took every step he could to erase his brother and nephew from the annals of history. Nafretiri simply sat back and… Watched it all happen. She spent a majority of her time in the palace locked in her bed chamber. The Queen grew thin, her eyes sunken, her once-beautiful face having turned gaunt from grief. To see the apparition before him, and comparing it to the immortal enchantress he knew now, it was like comparing night and day. To see the strong and powerful woman he knew so weak… Draxum felt a tightness in his chest. His heart ached for her. He wanted to reach out to the apparition, to pull it close to him, and comfort her. But those feelings were brief. They were soon replaced with the deepest rage, and bottomless hate, for the man who did this to her. He let out a roar and lunged for the form of the new Pharaoh, but the scene changed again.

Nafretiri and the Pharaoh were arguing. Nafretiri yelling through tears and the Pharaoh drawing ever closer to her, clearly demanding that she hand something over. When the woman continued to refuse, Draxum’s anger only mounted higher as the Pharaoh seized his wife, and plunged his hand into her right eye, ripping the beautiful green orb from its socket and throwing it to the floor. The sound of the blood pounding in his ears and his vision going red obscured the sight of Nafretiri crumpling to the floor and clutching her face, and droned out the poor Queen’s shrieks of unimaginable pain. Draxum lunged once more for the Pharaoh’s apparition, but obviously phased right through him. He was about to try again when there was a gasp from behind him, and the Baron whirled around as the scene surrounding him faded. They were back in his lab, Nafretiri had regained consciousness! In his anger the vine that restrained her had rotted away, leaving the immortal Enchantress in a crumpled heap on the floor. She was panting, her eye wide, and hands shaking. Slowly, Draxum approached her, picking up her fallen crown and holding it out to her.

It took Nafretiri a moment to register what was happening, but she looked up at Draxum holding her crown out to her. Nodding in silent thanks, she took the crown and placed it back on to her head. “I fail to understand…” Draxum spoke, making Nafretiri glare up at him in disdain. “You know damn well that if I overexert myself, I lose control of my-“

“I’m not talking about that!” Draxum interrupted, startling the woman. Growling, he was clenching his fists as his face went dark. “I fail to understand how you don’t hold the same hatred for humanity that I do! That wretched waste of organic material… That, false king… What he did was unforgivable, scarred you for life!” He shouted.

Nafretiri looked down at her hands, as she slowly came back to a stand, piecing together what happened when she passed out. She remembered… Bits and pieces of her past life floating through in a dream like state. She must’ve projected her dream into the real world when she fainted and lost control of her power. Draxum… Draxum witnessed everything. The treachery that lead to her death. The disgraceful acts that left her permanently disfigured, even now, thousands of years later. She was, as he said, scarred for life… “That was nearly three thousand years ago, Draxum…” She muttered, refusing to look up, her hair obscuring most of her face from him. “As the Mighty Ra’s solar barque sails ever forward, bringing with it one new day after another, scars begin to fade away…”

Draxum came forward, grabbing her chin and forcefully lifting her face to look at him as he leaned in, staring at the muslin bandages that obscured her hollow right eye socket from the rest of world. Her remaining eye was wet with tears, something he wasn’t expecting. His mind briefly flitted back to the crying, grieving Queen in the apparition of her dream. “Scars may fade, but they never truly heal, do they?” He snarled, but it wasn’t as threatening as before. She jerked her head out of his grip, turning and kneeling down to pick up her golden staff. “Touché…” She responded, looking over her staff and keeping her back turned to him.

Pursing his lips, Draxum stood there for a while, before coming closer to her. The armor on his arms cracked and flaked, decaying away from his skin and returning his limbs to normal. Just as she turned back to face him, she felt a tightness wrap itself around her body. She came face to face (or rather, face to chest) with the warring warrior scientist, the half mutant pulling her into a hug. It was a strange thing for Draxum to do. She expected such action from Huginn and Muninn, but from Draxum… Her vision went blurry as more tears formed, and she failed in choking back a sob, wrapping her arms around the Baron and burying her face into his chest. The Queen leaned into him, crying her heart out as all the painful memories came flooding back. He squeezed her a bit tighter, placing a hand on her head. “I’m sorry, Nafretiri…” He muttered, not expecting a reply. After what seemed like ages, the tears began to slow, and her sobs were replaced by whimpering hiccups. “I need to get back to work now…” Was all Draxum said before letting go of her and turning to walk back into the main part of his lab, leaving her there to dry her tears and regain her composure.

Huginn and Muninn flew down from their perch in the rafters, draping a small blanket around her shoulders. “C’mon, gorgeous, we’ll escort you back to your hotel…” Muninn spoke softly, Huginn nodding in agreement and gently pushing the Queen in the direction of the lab's exit. Draxum watched his gargoyle minions tend to the grieving Queen from the darkened hallway, gritting his teeth as his mind recalled all that he saw. Snarling, he shoved himself off the wall and strode off back into the lab, picking up his discarded notes and working on them with renewed spite, vigor, and determination. His eyes drifted up to the test tubes that Nafretiri saved from breaking earlier, reaching over to pick one up. Growling, he shattered the glass in his hand and dropped the shards to the floor. Humanity will pay for their transgressions… Not just towards yokai and mutant-kind, but towards Nafretiri as well. Humanity and their ancestors will suffer. They will all… Suffer.

(A/N: Please leave comments and criticisms, I wanna know how I can improve my writing ; u ; Reblogs > Likes.)

#rottmnt #rottmnt baron draxum #baron draxum #rottmnt oc #one shot #hurt/comfort

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rayesketchit42 · 4 years

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When you befriend the king pt. 4

“Loser”

Oc Fic| DarkWing Duck 91’ universe.Zeke Corvo and Dave “dorky” Curant @dorky-crow

Bullying, Slurs, offensive language

A/N Sorry I made him cry. Also if you haven't noticed I tend to update warnings per chapter to show a heads up of what happens in the chapter. Also a chance to see the type of person Zeke really is under all that trouble he deals with in this one (psst he is a sap).

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Zeke was wandering around the back streets of St.carnad, since he left school so early he didn't want to head home yet, he was still paying for messing up Micheal’s face a week ago. Zeke smiled thinking about that again. The joy of that soon erased as Dave’s shocked expression replaced Micheals look of fear in Zeke’s mind. Zeke just shook his head to get rid of it physically. Why did that bother him so much? He had a reason for making things clear with that dork, least Zeke thought he knew those reasons before.

Zeke sighed and lowered his head to look at the ground, he spotted a rock and gave it a kick sending it flying when he did. He walked up to where it landed and gave it another lighter kick. It went forward again and Zeke continued this as he walked. Focusing on the rock the whole time as he thought to himself a bit.

He thought he was just annoyed with the black bird always coming to him and sticking to his side almost like he was glued to Zeke. That wasn’t it though. Zeke thought maybe it was because of what having him around did for Zeke’s rep. But, that hadn’t really affected him too much really. Outside the way people stared when they were together. Zeked annoyed thinking of the way the nurses at school acted when Dave and him were in her office. He gave the rock a swift kick and sent it into the air this time. Zeke didn’t care where it landed as he just looked at his feet.

“Uh maybe you should try to join a team in high school” A voice said to him

Zeke looked up to see Mac he was holding the rock that Zeke just sent flying in his hand. The Pigeon looking it over ss if it wasn’t just a simple pebble. He then smiled down to Zeke.

“Playing hooky? Or did the school tell you not to bother today since you like to cause trouble?” Mac teased him as he dropped the rock. Mac then lowered himself down to one of his knees to be at eye level with Zeke. “I have some stuff to help take care of today. I'm sure it’ll be okay to have a little extra help from a tag along.”

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“Hmm so you left after being in the office and telling that kid off uh?” Mac asked as Zeke and him were sitting in the car.

Mac had been running all over the place meeting up with some people Zeke assumed it had to do with family business. Not once asking Zeke what happened and didn’t say anything about having to talk to his dad about him skipping. Even when the school called, Zeke didn’t know Mac was the one who got those calls till now. Even after that he didn’t ask. So Zeke just told him what happened, something about Mac always drew that out of him even if it wasn’t always right away.

“Guess they were just worried that the kid was in danger being around the trouble maker.” Mac stated simply as he parked the car in an empty lot.

Zeke was staring out the window looking at the backside of the buildings the lot was used for. Only three other cars were parked here, Zeke giving them more attention than Mac before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Was it really that much a bother to deal with this kid hanging around you?” Mac asked as he removed his glass pretending they needed to be cleaned. “You don’t spend time around anyone your own age really. Only ever spent time around your grandfather. And his associates, seems you may be a little awkward around people your own age.” was all Mac offered to say on the matter.

It did give the young dracula parrot some things to think about as the days went on. Zeke went to school the next day. Dave stayed away though. Zeke didn’t even see him till their math class, where the little bird didn’t even bother to give him a hello, not verbally or even with a look. Seemed like he was trying to avoid looking at him altogether. It was for the best Zeke felt though.

The following day Zeke skipped out on a class and was hiding out where no teacher would bother him. Sitting in the farthest corner of the school's library.

“Guess that idiot lost his bodyguard finally”

“He probably was paying that kid to work for him so we would leave dorky alone.”

“Ha he couldn’t even pay someone enough to stick around him!”

Zeke could overhear a conversation on the other side of one of the book cases, he got up and removed a book on one of the higher shelves. Using the empty space it left as a pep hole as he could see a few kids on the other side. He recognized some of them, it was one of the kids he beat up a while ago, and another was the kid who tried to trip Dave in the hallway. Zeke placed the book back and left shortly after.

Three days after that Zeke had started to notice that Dave was always alone. Zeke one day watching from an empty class room window. Always saw the kid come to school alone, no one to greet him, and he never waited for anyone else. He would leave his dad’s car after getting dropped off. Found somewhere to sit and worte in a notebook or read a book. At lunch he sat by himself, no one ever dared to sit at the same table. If he couldn’t get a table he sat on the floor along the wall of the commons. Always walked to each class alone too. During all of that time of seeing this Zeke realized he never heard Dave’s voice once. He was just so quiet.

Zeke couldn’t understand how that could be seeing as the kid never shut up when he was around Zeke. Always going on about some fairy tale he liked or some new cooking tricked he heard about and what to try. Like putting zucchini into a chocolate cake to make it wet? Something like that. Sounded gross.

I kind of miss it though.

Zeke found himself thinking. A whole two weeks had passed now since he told Dave to leave him alone. Dave had only hung around him for three days before that, yet that kid seemed to flock to Zeke like he had always done before. His consistent chatter, the way he had to walk faster to keep up with Zeke. The way his attention always snapped to Zeke right away when Zeke would go to talk. Zeke found himself walking into the commons lost in his thoughts of the black bird when feeling someone bump into him.

“O oh i’m sorry I wasn’t”

Zeke looked down right away as soon as that voice registered to him. Only now seeing he was blocking the exit of the lunch line. But more importantly he happened to do so when Dave was leaving the line with his food. He didn’t spill anything, he just got some stuff tossed around on his plastic tray. Dave straightened some things up before looking up and his eyes widened when seeing Zeke, he went to speak but stopped and looked back down to his food.

“S sorry.” He said again then walked around Zeke making his way to an empty table.

“What an idiot. Like he couldn’t see him he's freaking huge.”

Zeke was quick to glare at the kid talking. Then moved on out of the way standing off against the walls as he tried to look in the commons again for Dave. Feeling stupid at how much the sound of the bird voice changed his mood. And even more when he smiled once finding the small bird again. Dave was fixing up his tray of food putting everything back into place and did a small little wiggle to get settled into his spot as he was about to eat.

That was just him being a dork through and through. Zeke frowned a bit he didn’t realize he actually enjoyed having someone around like Dave used to be. Dave didn’t seem scared of him just seemed to be doing what Zeke wanted by staying away from him. So that meant Zeke could fix things with him. Zeke just had no idea on how to do that. Mac may have a point in what he said the other day. Zeke knew how to talk to the adults that were always around his grandpa but he didn’t know how to talk normally. At least not like how everyone at school talked to each other. Maybe it didn’t matter what he said as long as he said something. Zeke gave himself the boost he needed. But stopped when catching a group of kids heading over to Dave.

“Hey dorky!” One of them called out getting Dave’s attention when they did “We saw you walk away from the parrot kid, guess your little friendship didn’t last uh?”

Dave got quiet at the mention of Zeke and went to speak but was soon cut off as the kids kept the conversation going.

“Guess the rumor was true you couldn’t pay him enough anymore uh?”

“Pay?” Dave asked confused

“More like he got sick of being around this idiot.” the third kid added in as he laughed

“Or, he find out about Dorky?”

“Ohh you mean about how hes a little ol fag?”

“Chased Zeke right off”

Dave looked away from them and down to his tray of fo as the kids kept hammering in the word and how Zeke got some sense in him to get Dave to leave him alone. Dave was yanked out from thought when one of the kids frocely grabbed him

“Hey were talking to you, or did us bring up your crush get you to gay to listen?”

Soon after Dave felt the sudden luck warm milk from his tray poured onto his head, as the kid holding him started to laugh. The third kid of the group followed up by dropping the rest of his lunch on his head.

“Oh my god ha!” the kid holding him said and dropped Dave to the floor as he laughed.

Dave stared at the ground as he could see food and milk drip off his head. Listening to the kids laugh around him loudly. He tightened his hands into fists and clenched his eyes shut trying to hold back the tears burning at his eyes. But suddenly the laughing stopped, Dave slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head up to see Zeke standing in front of him, he held his hand out to the little bird who was slow to take it. With barely any effort Zeke pulled Dave up to his feet and brushed off some corn kernels that were on his shoulder off. Dave was about to speak but Zeke held up his hand to tell him not to.

“Oh making new friends uh” Zeke said in a tone that sent a bit of a chill into the air. “ mm don’t know how I feel about that im a bit of the jealous type you see.” Zeke began to say as he headed towards the kids who were kicked to run away soon as he stepped closer. “Pft bunch of wimps.”

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Zeke was leaning against the wall of the bathroom as Dave cleaned himself off. Zeke was surprised how chipper he seemed to be right now.Happily humming as he dried the milk off himself and tried removing the stains on his shirt. Zeke was expecting him to be crying at least. He knew what he would say though if he asked about it, Zeke just grew more annoyed with himself and let out an annoyed gorn.

“Oh sorry is the humming too much?” Dave asked suddenly

“No just… about the other day I want to..I mean I didn’t really mean it.” Zeke tried to talk but he just couldn’t get the words right when he did.

As he struggled to the talk the little bird smiled and walked over to Zeke

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“What part?”

“Well you didn’t really say we're friends but did you mean that?” Dave pressed

Zeke was quite a moment as he looked the bird over, he looked like a mess still even after trying to clean himself up. Without a word Zeke took off his grey hoodie and handed it over to Dave to wear. That would at least cover his shirt up he figured. Dave just stared at the hoodie when Zeke held it out to him.

“Just put it on Dave.”

Dave quickly took it from Zeke. As he pulled it over himself and he tried to smooth it out once on. It slightly sagged around the black bird since he was so small compared to Zeke. But, he smiled anyway once it was on. Zeke rubbed at the back of his neck before he went to speak.

“I don’t really know how to have friends.”

“That's okay I’ve never had friends!” Dave was quick to say, even if that was more sad than reassuring. “B but I would like to be friends with you Zeke.” Dave then fumbled with his hands a bit “I promise I won't bug you like before.”

Zeke felt his chest tighten but smiled at Dave “Nah it’s fine, do what you want. Yell out my name in the hall if you see me talk my ears off whatever. Don’t worry so much about that stuff I well kind of missed it to be honest with you.”

Dave smiled back happily “Then can I hang around you again?”

“May be best if you do, you seem to attract trouble when I’m not around.” Zeke joked a bit. "For now that's just how we'll leave things as is. Alright?"

Dave just nodded accepting that easily, the bell then rung and ended their moment as the hallways soon erupted from the noise of kids filling them headed to their next class.

#oc fic #dave dorky curant #zeke crovo

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years

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Titan 4

Previously on Titan

From the elevator, the guests could hear how busy the penthouse grew with every ding and opening of the doors. Every light was on, and every door was opened leading out onto the balconies and patios. Albert slept uneasily on a pile of coats on the guest bed, and no one knew as they were distracted with re-welcoming the returned lovebirds. The murmur of friends and family, mixed with the music and the evening and the summer breeze that whispered in from the balcony.

The dining room table was full-- glasses of mixed levels, empty and full bottles of wine, lots of amazing food. The faces around it all laughed and talked over and across of each other, while the evening grew long and deep into the night, unnoticed by anyone at all.

While it was once very empty, despite Kara’s best attempts, the penthouse warmed with its new furniture and nicknacks. After just a month back, it all felt still new and familiar at the same time. The city was the same, the work was the same, and yet everything was skewed slightly, and they were different people.

As everyone finally sat down, as Kara finally finished fluttering around the table, and Lena finished topping off glasses and chatting with Eliza about some shared research methods, as Jss mocks James for his cover story, and earns a laugh from Kat who yells down the table for Lucy to recall a time in Budapest, and so on and so forth, the couple finally found themselves sitting close together at dinner.

Kara winked at Lena between a smile and a talk with her sister. Lena smiled at all of it and decided that she needed more nights like that.

“Thank you everyone, for coming to this dinner, and I guess a welcome back party,” Kara stood from her chair after earning a slight nudge from Lena.

The voices chattered their approval, clapping their hands and making the host blush slightly.

“But we didn’t invite you here just as a re-house warming.”

“Are you leaving again?” Alex interrupted.

“Adopting?” Eliza smiled over her glass of wine.

“Engaged?” Nia squealed.

“Close. Um,” Kara gulped and looked at Lena. “We wanted everyone here to tell them-- well… we had to explain-- about how… see--”

“What Kara is trying to say,” Lena stood and rubbed Kara’s shoulder. “Is that before we came back, I asked Kara to marry me.”

“I knew it!” James shook his head as he wagged his finger, leaning forward at the table. “I told you Lucy.”

“And we got married,” she continued, the shock registering quite quickly. “A very quick afternoon trip to the courthouse, and a honeymoon planned for the summer.”

The quiet was a noticeable difference from the hubbub of the party. Kara gulped again and sipped her wine more eagerly. She felt Lena grip her shoulder and then hug her bicep tight as she could. It was an anchor when Kara very badly wanted to float away and disappear.

At one end of the table, Eliza looked to J’onn for confirmation, earning a slight nod as he smiled into his glass. In the quiet, the mother looked at both of the girls, the same ones she watched grow up together and face some of the most difficult things anyone could imagine-- and she saw how right it seemed.

With a small movement, the matriarch pushed out her chair and made her way around toward the center of the table, where she paused near the couple.

“I am so happy for you, both,” Eliza smiled, eyes growing glasses. She hugged Lena and Kara to her.

The table lashed out with its energy, disbelief and joy raged together in smiles and hugs and jokes and cheers. Down the line, the gobsmacked members of the makeshift family shared in on the celebration because they were too surprised to do much else.

“Welcome to the family,” Eliza smiled as she held Lena’s cheeks. She hugged her tightly and Lena clung to the motherly figure as tightly as she could, burying her nose there.

Among the hugs and all, the mother swallowed Lena in an embrace and kissed her cheek before whispering how much she loved her and wanted her in her family. Lena cried, she couldn’t help it and she hated how happy it made her.

“Does this mean no wedding?” Alex furrowed. “I thought you would want the whole wedding experience.”

“Um,” Kara squinted slightly and looked to her wife. “I think we’re okay without it. It was more important that we just committed, to be a team.”

“But the fancy dress, and the reception, and your family?” Maggie offered, swooning at the thought of her own as she looked at the ring Lena put on.

“We didn’t think you all would mind missing a rather large swaray,” Lena shrugged.

“It’s just something to think about.”

Kara offered a smile and wrapped her arm around her wife’s waist.

“A nice dress would be fun,” she shrugged.

When she was seventeen years old, Lena Luthor fell in love with two things at the exact same time. One, was her beautiful, kind, funny best friend, who had hair like wheat and eyes like the ocean, who ate all of the snacks she set out and still wanted more, who liked to sit and soak up the sun until her skin was burnt.

The second, of course, was the complex system of nerves that connected the bran to the rest of the body. During an anatomy class geared toward mechanical studies, Lena fell absolutely head over heels for the way the body worked and how it could heal and adapt, and more important, how tiny impulses that fired at alarming speeds operated the simplest of movements at a near constant pace. It was a computer, and she was obsessed with computers.

It became her life’s mission to love and understand each of her passions, one she took up very eagerly.

“We had a deal, Sam,” Lena shook her head as she dug into the open guts of a computer-esque system that took up a rather large desk in the corner of the building.

“We did, and you were supposed to be living a stress-free life in South America, but we’re compromising.”

Big brown eyes waited anxiously, surveying the working hands as she leaned against the desk. She was reluctant to admit her job was easier with Lena back. The mega-corporation was a multi-headed beast that required many skilled wranglers, and Lena wasn’t apt to hire many of them, because that would involve trust.

But she had a weakness for the ones she did.

“I’m supposed to be planning my honeymoon, just so you know.”

Lena didn’t look up from her work as she spoke, but rather surveyed after soldering.

“It’s a quick trip, and then you can get back to being ridiculously adorable with Kara. I can’t make it there and to the conference in Paris, where I was summoned.”

“I’d rather answer to the EU assembly than go to Metropolis.”

“And I’d rather go speak at the university, but they settled for you, and it’s commencement. Think of all the impressionable kids that need to hear your words.”

Flattery wasn’t as effective as it was on most, but Sam knew it got her somewhere with her boss. She also knew that Lena was fighting it for reasons other than wanting to stay home all of a sudden.

“The deal was, I do busy work and help with the management side of my company, in exchange for two uninterrupted days of research,” she reminded her appointed president of the company that bore her name. “You do your thing, and I get to do mine. I keep strict hours. I’m learning to cook.”

“Kara can order out for a night,” Sam reminded her. “She can take Ruby for pizza. Then both of them are fed, and hopefully one will keep the other out of trouble.”

“That’s too much responsibility for Ruby.”

“Fly in for the evening, do your speech, shake some hands. The press will be fantastic, and after your marriage news broke, we kind of need something else in the headlines.”

“First, Eliza guilts me, and then Maggie. I didn’t expect you to also be in on this conspiracy to make me have a wedding.”

“No one is making you, I think we just would have liked to have been there,” she shrugged. “And the press loves a good story.”

“There’s no story,” Lena grumbled, exasperated and annoyed. “She’s not some stranger I picked up on the street.”

“A quickie marriage, a swift and quiet return after fleeing in the night-- it’s a very particular story.”

“I’m going to go on this trip, just to get away from all of you.”

“You’ll go then?” Sam didn’t wait. She hugged her friend and earned a grimace before melting. Lena Luthor wasn’t the hardest person to convince when she felt something. “Think of it as a pre-honeymoon,” Sam sang as she wiggled her eyebrows and made her way back towards her own office.

The penthouse was alive as Kara trudged her way home, slightly sloppy from the sudden shower that popped up on her commute home from a long day of hunting down a lead to a very old story she hoped to turn into a rather long article. She expected a few hours of quiet. Thursdays were Lena’s night at the lab, but after her day, Kara was excited to see her wife.

She hadn’t necessarily gotten used to that word-- wife. Kara wrestled with her coat as she tugged the sticky fabric from her arms and fiddled with the ring on her finger. Lena Luthor was her wife. They were forever. The seventeen year old in her was still kind of surprised by it.

Two months back, and they were a married couple that lived in the same city that was nearly torn apart because of them, and that was challenging. Maybe Lena planned n the joys of the first year of marriage as the thing that helped them get over the hump.

“Son of a --”

The pans rattled in the kitchen, blurring out the inevitable swearing.

“How hard is it to make a damn lasagna?” Lena complained as she stared at the mess in the pan.

The rest of the counter was covered in food and bowls, and the smell was a little different, not exactly what Eliza or even Alex could mix up.

“Hey, honey,” Kara muttered as a particularly despondent Lena furrowed at her mess. “I didn’t expect you home… and cooking?”

“I really wanted some comfort food, and Eliza’s lasagna is my favorite, but I can’t get it right,” she pouted, swirling the goopy mess in the pan. “And Sam is making me go to Metropolis.”

“Hm, okay interesting.”

The former hero slowly circled, avoiding her wife only to reach around and fill up two glasses of wine from the half empty bottle on the counter. Sometimes there was no really understanding Lena and her moods, there was simply surviving them.

“Did you see that article?” Lena asked, taking out more things to chop and cook.

“Mhm.”

“Prison paroles employment and education plan.”

“Mmm,” Kara nodded into her glass of wine as she sipped and watched.

“He’s an ass. I should have burned that house down in Metropolis. I should have emptied his accounts. All of them.”

“Yeah.”

“And I have to go to Metropolis. I didn’t even want to come back to National City.”

The pan clanged into the sink as Lena gave up her struggle and tossed it aside, distraught at her failure and everything else.

She was new to the marriage thing, but Kara knew better than to point out the fact that her wife wanted to come back-- felt the need to come back, were the exact words. She definitely wasn’t going to point that out though. She definitely wasn’t going to take the brunt of the pent up anger that was evident toward the lasagna.

“Hey, look, I poured you more wine,” Kara offered, kissing her wife’s cheek and handing over the new cup.

“I have to go to Metropolis, and I have to learn how to make lasagna.”

“Sit, yeah, sit down and drink,” she tutted.

“Why did you make me come back?”

“Because I am a terrible person, and I am only happy when you’re miserable,” Kara explained as she started to dig through the cabinet.

“Don’t say that, you’re spectacular,” Lena disagreed eagerly. “You’re my wife. You can’t say things like that.”

“Before I could though?”

“Well no.”

On the space she cleared, Kara began her work as best she could, prepared to provide sustenance to her worried wife. Sometimes, she was learning, making a peanut butter sandwich after a long day and drinking a very expensive bottle of wine was all that being married meant.

“I’ll go with you, if you want,” Kara offered as she cut the sandwich in half.

“It’s just for a night.”

“Still. I like a night away. A fancy hotel with the good soaps and all that privacy.”

With a smile, Kara handed over half of her sandwich to her wife.

“Are you…. Do you want to spend money?”

“Shut up.”

Lena smiled into her glass while she picked at the sandwich. She didn’t worry about the mess and she didn’t think too hard about much else than a trip with Kara. That was how she survived most of the time.

“We came back here as a team,” Kara explained, her blush moving to her ears as she spoke with conviction. “I’d go anywhere with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll thank Sam for giving us a vacation,” she smiled before taking a big bite.

“I have to work.”

“Right, yes, but hotel sex.”

“Today was a really shitty day before you came home,” Lena sighed contentedly as she shared the rest of her sandwich after her wife inhaled her own part. “And you’re slightly damp still.”

“The hazards of marrying a Luthor-- perpetually damp.”

100 notes · View notes

mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Doctor, Doctor - Thomas

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 10,229

Summary: Thomas cares about your health. And with that, he cares enough to give you a healthy dose of Vitamin D when you ask for Doctor Thomas’ prognosis.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Really poorly done Role Playing, Oral (both receiving), Sexy Finger Sucking, Doggy, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Choking, Dirty Talk, Side Sex, Over stimulation, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Teasing

Notes: A belated birthday fic for my favorite Cubs fan in the world, Julia aka @savage-stilinski. I hope you enjoy your man in all his fine glory. Note, this ALMOST could read as a sequel to Infected but it is a separate, standalone story.

The gentle sound of the waves splashing against the sand outside lulled you from your sleep, blinking tired eyes open slowly. The chilled air made you shiver and curl more into the blankets, huddling into the warm body that slept peacefully beside you. The scent of bacon blended with the salty air, a hint of greenery hovering through the air. A roaring gurgle met your ears, earning a sigh from your lips. The last thing you wanted was to leave the comfort of the bed, but food was calling.

“Tommy, breakfast,” you murmured, nudging the deadweight body beside you. The man shifted, his arm resting on his stomach and his head lolled to the side on his pillow. His pale pink lips parted with his steady breaths and a small bit of drool dribbling down his chin, caramel orbs hidden behind his eyelids. Chocolate locks were spiked in random directions, splayed wildly on his head. It screamed of sleep, having been tousled restlessly from the pillow he slept on. The blanket had been stolen through the night by you, a small fraction left to cover his lower half, leaving his bare torso to rise and fall without shelter. Even in the coldest nights, Thomas was a furnace, providing you warmth and comfort. “Thomas, breakfast.”

You heard his faint mumble, unable to discern his words. With a huff, you rolled out of the bed, taking the blanket with you. Thomas didn’t seem to care, only rolling onto his stomach, hugging your pillow to his chest. Without waiting for the man to wake up, you grabbed your clothes for the day, changing in the bathroom to head out. Your baggy pajamas were discarded in a pile and swapped for a comfortable tank top and jeans, your boots on your feet. Thomas was left with a single kiss to the forehead that made him smile in his sleep, hugging the pillow more.

The walk through the Safe Haven was refreshing, people up and working already, though the sun had barely arisen over the mountains in the east. Waves were shared by the occupants of paradise, smiles growing on their faces. It made you smile in return, kicking off your boots to walk through the oceanic waves that frothed against the sand on your way to the kitchens. The water was cold and the breeze was calming, making your hair float around your form in billows. The low chatter around you made your heart thud with joy, the blue sky above your head a change from the destroyed world you were used to for so long. Even if you had been safe from the cruelties of the world for weeks now, every day still felt new.

Frypan greeted you with a plate of eggs, toast and bacon when you walked into the kitchen. The eggs were sunny side up and the bacon made a smile. The plate was happiness incarnate held in the palms of your hands. A giggle left your lips, thanking the former glade’s cook, finding the friends you spent years with at your normal table. Minho was trying to steal Brenda’s bacon, the short haired girl swatting his hand away and jabbing a fist in his side. Newt shifted uncomfortable across from them, scratching at his bandaged torso as he ate his toast.

“Stop scratching it. It’s healing,” you scolded, planting yourself beside the Brit. Your long time friend glowered at you from the corner of his eye, sipping his juice. “Don’t give me that look. You should be glad that stab didn’t kill you!”

“I should be dead though,” he whispered dejectedly.

“No. No negativity, Newt,” you huffed, waving your bacon at him. “You are safe. You aren’t infected. Thomas was able to give you the cure because Teresa made enough. You aren’t dead. You are here with us. And we are glad you are.”

“I know. I’m glad I’m here too,” he said, giving you a side hug. “And you are too.”

“Love you, Newtie.”

“Love you, Y/N.”

“You guys are a load of depression,” Minho cut in, specks of bacon flying from his mouth. You grimaced in disgust, shaking your head. “We are in the Safe Haven. You have no Flare virus. We are all together.”

“I just said that, Minho,” you huffed.

“I just said it better.”

“You guys are children,” Brenda sighed.

“Enough of that,” Newt chuckled. “Where is your other half, Y/N?”

“Tommy?” you clarified, the three nodding. “Sleeping, of course. I tried to wake him up for breakfast, but he wouldn’t wake up. So, I left him. I’m not missing out on food because my lump of a boyfriend wouldn’t get out of bed.”

“So, how long before he flies through that door and drags you away?” Newt chuckled, making your brow rise.

“What? He wouldn’t-”

“Yeah, he will,” Minho confirmed.

“No!”

“Yeah,” Brenda reiterated.

“Oh, my god, guys. Thomas is not going to run through that door screaming-”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck me.”

Thomas stormed through the kitchen, all eyes on the flustered man. He was panting and sweating, his hair still untame from rest. His eyes were wide and slightly red to match his face. Panic was laced on every feature on his face, the distressed look he gave as he approached making you frown. His clothes were wrinkled, his sweats hanging low on his hips, unchanged after he awoke, and a blue henley on his body. He had obviously through the clothes on before rushing out of the tiny hut you called home. Even his boots were still untied.

“You’re ok,” he breathed, running a veiny hand through his hair. You moved so he could collapse beside you, his head in your shoulder. “I was so worried when I woke up and you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you went or if you were safe.”

“I’m fine, Tommy.”

“But something could have happened!” he scolded. “You should have woken me up before you left.”

“I tried-”

“We need to head home and make sure you are ok, baby.”

You huffed. Thomas was the sweetest man you could ever wish to date. Since meeting him in the Glade, he had cared for you like nothing else. He protected you, he supported you, and he loved you. You loved him back. His strength of heart and willful spirit lured you in, keeping you trapped. You wanted nothing else than to be by his side through everything, especially now that you were free from WICKED’s clawed grasp.

However, ever since he woke up after getting shot by Janson, he had been on your case twenty-four-seven. You had gotten infected through the airborne virus since you were unknowingly not immune. Thomas was devastated, but he was determined to find you a cure. In his hand when you helped pull him into the berg were two vials of serum that he mumbled were the cure before passing out from blood loss. It saved you and Newt, who was barely clinging to life between a stab to the chest and his infection.

Now that he was awake from his gunshot wound that was almost completely healed, he wanted to make sure the cure was, indeed, a cure. Every day, he took it upon himself to check your vitals, testing to see if the virus had somehow returned and he was at risk of losing you yet again. At least three times a day, you would hear the words ‘How are you feeling?’ fall from his mouth before a hand pressed to your forehead.

Honestly, his caring nature and the need to make sure you were safe was a mixture of emotions. It was caring and made you fuzzy inside, knowing that he was worried and wanted you to be safe. But, it was irksome.

“Why don’t you ever dote on Newt?” you asked the man, taking a bite of your eggs. “He was infected too, you know!”

“He isn’t my girlfriend and the love of my life,” Thomas told you. You giggled when Newt feigned heartbreak. “Besides, he has Minho to dote on him!”

“But Minho doesn’t give a rat’s ass because Newt is perfectly healthy! There are no signs of the Flare!”

“This is accurate,” Minho teased.

“That is besides the point,” Thomas argued, taking your hand. “We have to get you checked on.”

“But, my bacon-” you cried, getting dragged off. You whimpered sadly whe of your bacon, giving you a wink from afar. “I love you, Thomas. But you’re going to drive me insane.”

“Less talking, more making sure you are ok.”

“You owe me bacon, asshole.”

It wasn’t until nightfall that you could sneak away. Thomas had kept you close since your abrupt disappearance from your calling for food until Vince requested his help on some building plans. Thomas was always helping Vince plan, and you were proud of him for assuming such a leadership role, but he expected you to stay in bed.

Ha. Nope.

You wandered down to the beach, seeing the flames of a fire flickering in the distance. It was normal that her friends would make a small bonfire on the beach to relax after a long day, and that’s exactly where they were now. The former gladers were sat around the fire, joined in part by Brenda and a few friends from Maze B, drinking Gally’s special drink he whipped up. Newt was the first to see you approaching, grabbing you a jar with the pale yellow liquid.

“Finally escape Doctor Thomas?” he joked. You glared at him while collapsing in the sand, sipping the bitterly strong drink.

“Not funny.”

“It kind of is,” Minho laughed. He received a swift boot to the head, the runner groaning.

“It’s not! I spent all day by his side because he didn’t want me running off again,” you sneered. “He literally expected me to stay in bed all day and not do anything.”

“Aw, Doctor Thomas taking care of you,” Minho poked.

“He’s always checking on his patient,” Aris laughed.

“Does he ask what level of pain you are? Then you can make a face to express it. Like this,” Frypan joke, making a pained, strained face.

“He always checking your temperature, tucking you into bed before feeding you some soup,” Brenda laughed.

“Guys, it’s not funny,” you seethed. “Trust me. I love Thomas so fucking much. He means the world to me. He makes me so happy and I’m glad I can be here with him today. I shouldn’t be here because of the Flare and he made it possible to live. He’s the best man I have ever met, no offense guys.” You glanced at the guy gladers who shrugged. “I feel special with him and I look up to him.

“But, he’s driving me insane. Every day is the same. I love that he cares and I love knowing that he wants me to be safe. But, he’s so worried that I’m going to be sick again that he’s going overboard. I’m suffocating under him because he just… ugh!” You fell back on the sand, arms spread wide. “I hate him. I hate him. I hate him! Why does my boyfriend have to care so much?!”

“Because he loves you?”

“That was rhetorical, Minho!” you growled, throwing sand his way. “I know he does! But, I just need him to calm down! I’m not on the verge of death and he’s treating me like some fragile baby bird that isn’t ready to leave the nest. I am losing my mind because he’s always there to make sure I’m not sick. I love his compassion but I hate his compassion!”

“That’s… redundant.”

You blinked, standing from your spot. “Come here, Minho. I’m going to strangle you and you will wish I will have had the Flare because then people won’t question why your body is scattered across the beach!”

Brenda held you by the waist, dragging your flailing form away. “Come on. We are going on a walk.”

“I don’t want a walk! I want to kill Minho!”

“Naw. I think she wants Doctor Thomas to give her a prescription,” Minho teased with a wink. “Of his dick!”

Your face was bright red. “You’re dead, Minho. You hear me? DEAD.”

“Walk!” Brenda forced, pushing you down the sandy walkway. Grumbles filled the dark air, your feet trudging away from the group. The drink in your hand was tipped back, sliding down your throat with a burning elegance. Brenda watched you silently, sipping her own drink. “You know, I don’t see what the big deal is. Having Thomas checking up on you like that, playing personal doctor. I’d think you would enjoy that more.”

“It’s frustrating!”

“No,” Brenda laughed. “It’s kind of hot, Y/N. I can only imagine what things he could do to you while playing doctor. And you tell me once that the sex is amazing. Just thinking about what an attractive guy like that could do when he drags you away to make sure you are ok gets me hot.”

“That’s my boyfriend you are talking about, Bren,” you deadpanned.

“I know. But, you can’t tell me you aren’t the least bit aroused by Thomas constantly taking care of you,” she pressed.

“I mean, I guess…”

“Y/N, let me spell this out to you. You have a hot ass man that loves you with all his heart. He is there for you to give you whatever you need. Just think about when he goes to give you your next check up how he strips you down and pleases you all night long.”

“Jesus, Bren!” you screeched, shaking your head in a flustered state. “Stop thinking about this please!”

“What? You guys are hot and I ship it. I’d live to know that he can fuck you like you deserve,” she laughed. Your face turned beet red at her words. “I’m just trying to say this. Why are you complaining about it? I get that it’s annoying because he does it all the time. But, embrace it!”

“Embrace it?” you asked into your drink.

She nodded with a evil grin. “Let Doctor Thomas do his job and give you the treatment you deserve.”

You stared at the girl, mouth parting in surprise. No words came out, your lips sealing together and curling upright. Brenda noticed the smile that grew, bouncing like a kid in a candy store. She nudged your side, wiggling her eyebrows as you walked, divulging the plan you were concocting.

The door slammed shut behind Thomas the following evening. He was exhausted, his body sluggish after his long day. His boots were kicked off, a hand running through his hair to feel the sweat that seeped from the top of his head. The sun pounded on him while he built a new hut on the edge of town. The sleeves of his henley were pushed up. The buttons were completely undone, showing off the dark chest hairs that were splayed across his pecs.

“Tommy?” you called from your room, Thomas’ ears perking up. His heart lifted, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. He had miraculously managed to convince you to stay in while he was working, but a small part of him worried since he couldn’t check on you all day. To know you were home, safe and sound, put his nerves at ease. The only thing that could drop it is if you developed the Flare again and were going to Crank out on him the second he walked into the room.

He didn’t need to move forward. He saw the shadow of your form on the wall, hearing your footsteps patter against the ground, stepping out of the room. You stayed near the doorway, leaning on it almost seductively. You appearance made the runner’s heart freeze, his pants growing tighter and his body heat no longer from the setting sun that had scorched his skin.

“Holy…”

You played with the lacy designed robe that did nothing to conceal your body, the mesh design see through. It ended at your mid thigh, the material skimming them as it swayed. Under the black robe was the blue lingerie set he loved the most. The bra pushed your breasts up until they were ready to spill out of the top, almost see through so he could see your breasts clearly. The flowers beautifully decorated your chest, hugging to your skin. The bottoms matched with the flower design, hugging your core and backside in just the right way. A tiny bow was plastered in the middle, acting as a landmark for the center he wanted to be part of.

You bit your lips that were more red than normal - a lip gloss that was salvaged from the ruins of the fallen world outside the Safe Haven making them shimmer. Your eyes were shadowed from some eye make up, the glance from the side of your eye making your eyes clouded with mystery and beauty. Your stance made you look sexy, willingly waiting for him to advance on you. You noticed the man fidget where he stood, keeping from launching himself across the house to ravage you.

“You know,” you started, voice sultry. “I’m not feeling too well. I was wondering if you could give me a proper diagnosis, Doctor Thomas. Help a girl out, please? Your patient is ready.”

Thomas’ normally caramel eyes flashed completely black, taking slow, calculated steps in your direction. You remained where you stood, waiting until he was flesh against you, towering above you in overwhelming glory. His hands cupped your face, thumbs skimming the outline of your jaw, brushing your glimmering lips. The gesture made you mewl, sinking into his touch.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear you aren’t feeling too well, miss,” he played along, the low octave of his voice making it gruff and husky. “Please, tell me all about what is going on. How are you feeling?”

Thomas knocked over the basket of laundry that was on the table just inside the room in search for a pad of old paper and a dying pen. You giggled, tilting your head as he pretended to write. “Well, I have this horrible ache that I can’t seem to get rid of. I’m always hungry for some sausage. And I have all this pent up energy that doesn’t seem to go away. I really need your help, Doctor.”

Thomas glanced up from the paper, biting his lip. “I see. Well, I will need to run some extra tests on you first to make a proper diagnosis.”

He was backing you into the room, your legs hitting the bed in a flash. The pad of paper was tossed into the hallway outside the room, the page having some scribbles that was supposed to resemble words. In the process of walking to the bed, Thomas’ strong hands moved from your face to your hands, moving slowly up your arms to your shoulders. The silky robe you were wearing to cover your lingerie was pushed from your body, melting off your arms into a puddle on the floor. The steps left it forgot and unneeded, your underwear soon to follow.

His luscious lips were attached to yours in a fiery kiss before your back even met the lumpy mattress. The former runner laid on his side, propped up on his elbow to hover over you as you laid back completely. The kiss was smooth yet messy, lips dragging against each other in a sloppy fashion. His strong hand skimmed against your waist, letting his lips work magic up above. The soft smack of lips against lips filled the small room,open-mouth kisses shared without remorse. Tongues twisted and tangled together, circling each other in blissful silence. His lips commanded every kiss, dictating when he would pull back for air before dipping back down for another greedy intake. Teeth occasionally clashed and noses frequently bumped, both of you beginning to get a high from the sensual kisses, his tongue tracing the insides of your cheeks.

Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, struggling to tug it up and off of him between kisses. He sat you both up so you could properly remove it. The fabric peeled from his skin in slow motion, the reveal of his almost pristine skin making your eyes glimmer. The scar of his gunshot was dark in contrast to his somewhat pale skin, his chest and back speckled with dark dots in the form of moles and beauty marks. As the sleeves unraveled from his arms, his biceps were revealed, the henley having concealed the true strength he possessed. Veins ran along his arms, his biceps flexed from the simple bend of an arm. His shoulders tensed and relaxed, pecs with the patch of chest hair you loved jumping slightly. His dark caramel eyes were shadowed when he glanced up at you through his eyelashes, the stare cut short when he resumed watching you remove the fabric from his skin, tossing it aside.

You were pushed back on the bed again with his lips on yours, your hands now free to roam his bare torso. His hands moved strategically down your body - first roaming your chest and giving your breasts a firm squeeze, then tugging your waist a bit closer to him so you were flesh against him, limb to limb, and finally gripping at your backside. The hem of your panties were snapped against your waist, the tender touch of his digits sending shivers up your spine at the same time. He played with the front of your panties, pushing you back on the bed before slipping his hand in your underwear.

The tips grazed your clit, a moan loud muffled by his lips. The faint noise made his finger rub faster and push harder. Your body began to burn from the pressure on your swollen nub, arching into his touch. His lips never broke from yours, only pushing harder against the while rubbing circles to your center. He could feel your shakes and trembles, breathy moans making his throat vibrate. His fingers rubs vigorously to your clit, making you swoon for the man.

Two fingers slid further down, spreading your folds to playfully tease your core. The tips slid in first, toying with your entrance by parting the pussy lips. When they dipped further in, the tips curled, nails beginning to scratch against your walls carefully. It didn’t hurt; it just made your stomach tingle with that sensation you were familiar with when it came to sex with your boyfriend. It fluttered and twisted in all the right ways, a coil slowly swirling itself into a tight knot.

Your lips broke from his when his fingers were knuckle deep inside you, beginning to thrust quickly into you despite the restriction of the panties catching on his hand. Your lips still skimmed his, sharing the occasional kiss as he moved in and out of you, pleasing you relentlessly. When he pulled out, he spread wide, scissoring your entracing until you were exposed to everything and leaking around his fingers and down your thighs. They snapped back together so he could push into you once more, shoving deep enough to find your sweet spot. The touch made you shake, throwing your head back with loud moans. Thomas’ lips trailed down your cheek to your neck, placing kisses on your shoulder. His ears perked up at the squishing sound that came from his powerful thrusts, pursing his lips to keep from grunting.

“Thomas,” you whimpered, clawing your nails down his arms. His biceps flexed under the tips of your fingers, grinning into your shoulder. “More. I’m so close.”

“Do it,” he whispered back, sucking a dark mark to your skin. The pluck of his lips against your shoulder made you quiver, the knot inside you becoming unexplainably tighter. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling into the blankets you were laying on top of. You flailed around for anything to hold onto, settling on Thomas’ free hand, fingers naturally lacing together passionately. Your walls hugged around his digits, trying to keep them inside long enough for you to orgasm.

“Oh god,” you cried, tightening your hold on him. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming!”

“I love the sound of that, baby,” he said, pushing into you harder.

The powerful press of his fingers to your sweet spot, the rake of his nails along your sensitive walls, was the last straw. Your walls crumbled and the knot broke - not just unraveled. It was burned to a crisp in an everlasting flame that smoldering inside you from his touch. Your juices spilled out around him with a screaming moan from your mouth, coating his slender digits and escaping to soak your panties, core and legs.

He pulled out slowly, letting you relax against the bed. He watched your chest heave up and down unevenly, the look of contentment making you glow. His attention was turned to his freed fingers, watching drops of your juices drip slowly along them. They glistened and sparkled, his caramel eyes twinkling mischievously. His thumb pressed to the pointer finger and middle finger he had used to finger you, smearing the juices around seductively. Your eyes, hazy and shadowed, watched him, glued to the way his long, bony fingers rubbed together tauntingly.

Thomas turned to your, adjusting himself against the bed to hover over you better. Your legs tangled together and his chest was hot against your arm, making you sweat. The two wet fingers that were dipped in your sweetness touched your lips, your eyes meeting his dark ones. You questioned him silently, the man grinning.

“I have to check your mouth for any… signs of illness,” he murmured gruffly, trying to sound like the doctor you proclaimed him to be. “Now, baby. Say ahh.”

No hesitation befell you. Your lips parted and your eyes closed, taking the two digits into your mouth. He tasted of your salty sweetness, an odd tang coming from your own arousal. It wasn’t something you often tasted - it only came around if he kissed you after he crawled between your legs. This was much more prominent than you were used to, but you didn’t dismiss it. The digits played between your cheeks, wiggling around while your tongue lapped at the liquid on them. Your throat rumbled with the ahh noise you made for him, your tongue pressing down and the tip extending against his joint.

When his fingers were fully engulfed between your cheeks, knuckle deep while being cleaned, he pulled out slowly. Your lips parted, the pads of his fingers tugging your bottom lip on the way out. Your lips stayed parted, panting slightly. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tasting the last of yourself that remained from his removal, Thomas grunting in approval.

The runner stood from the bed, fumbling with the button on his jeans. With the pop of it and the zip sliding down, the denim sunk against his hips, showing the black band of his boxer briefs and the deep v-lines that were embedded into his sides. The dark trail of hair disappeared beneath the black band, a noticeable bulge at the end of the path. He seemed to be in a taunting mood, the drop of the jeans down his legs slower than you would prefer. His boxers followed thereafter, the man left bare after an agonizing wait. With the boxers removed, his cock was free, hard, long and girthy. It stuck straight out, pointed in your direction like it was a compass pointing north. The tip was red and swollen, wet with precum. Veins ran along the shaft, disappearing in the curly patch of hair at the base, residing on his groin in a bushy bundle.

He stroked himself slowly, looking down at his cock proudly. A lopsided smile curled on his lips, his dark eyes glowering at you when he peered upwards. “Time to take your temperature, baby.”

The man stood on the side of the bed, watching you twist onto your hands and knees. Eagerly, his tip was taken between your hollowed cheeks, harshly sucking at the head of his cock. Thomas let out an inhuman groan, threading his fingers through your hair, gripping it tight on the back of your head. He stared down at you, hungrily watching you ravish is length with your mouth.

You bobbed along his length, swirling your tongue around the tip and along the pulsating vein on the underside of him. He twitched when you passed over the rough patch on his frenulum, grunting as it slithered down his length. Every inch of him disappeared into your mouth and down your throat, expertly managing the size of him. Your hand moved to caress his balls, fondling them in the palm of your hand. The deeper you slid on his length, the closer you hugged his balls to his body.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back. The motion inadvertently made him tug on your hair, pushing you closer to his groin. Your nose buried into the hairs at the base of his shaft, eyes watering slightly from how deep he was going. It didn’t stop you from sucking, licking furiously at his length. “Just like that.”

His hand went slack, guiding you to bob ferociously along his length. Your slurped, gagging on his cock. You pulled away with subtle pops, kissing along the length while kissing at it. Thomas groaned, mumbling for more.

But before you could give him more, he pushed you back onto the bed, a squeak leaving your mouth. The man was hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Eyes locked in a passionate connection, his smile curling. “I’m going to administer a quick breast and vaginal exam. Alright?”

“Whatever you need to do, Doctor Thomas.”

Your back arched off the bed, allowing Thomas to strip off the bra you were wearing. His lips attached to the right breast immediately, his hand groping the left in the palm. Much of the skin around the plump bud was taken into his mouth, Thomas happily sucking at your breast. Your hands wove through his dark locks, feeling the soft silk between your fingers. Your hand rest against the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest.

Your moans didn’t cover the pop that resounded around the room when he pulled back, lips leaving your skin for a single second. He peppered red marks on every inch of your chest, flicking his tongue across your nipple hastily. His hand, wrapped firmly around your other breast, squeezed it, jiggling it between his fingers. When his lips swapped to the other breast to repeat the process, you were seeing stars.

Traveling south, you barely made out the words he spoke against your stomach between kisses. “No lumps. You definitely have some healthy breasts there, ma’am.”

“That’s good,” you mused. “My boyfriend likes them a lot, so it’s good that they are healthy.”

“You should definitely let him keep doing whatever he is doing to them,” Thomas quipped, spreading your legs to kiss at your thighs. “He’s helping keep them healthy.”

“Right,” you laughed, not believing his professional reasoning.

Thomas shook his head, dragging your panties down your legs. You expected him to bury his face in your pussy as soon as you saw the panties fly across the room - and you were half right. He lips were on your core, tongue deep inside you. But, his cock hovered above you, still thick and ready for you. His legs were on either side of your head, his mouth going to town between yours.

His tongue swirled in circles around your core, tracing the tip along your walls. In return, your hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, keeping him steady so you could suck him back. Your head bobbed up and down along his length, going as fast and hard as he was with your pussy. You were growing wet, your taste buds tickled with pleasure and your core slick with your juices that leaked onto his tongue. Thomas was selfish, lapping up every drop you let out in his search for your sweet spot.

You moaned around him when he managed to graze it with the tip of his tongue, vibrating the entire length of him. You were growing weak already, his magical tongue skillfully pleasing you in the ways you always imagined. Your body was tensing and your stomach was coiling, the orgasm you had before making your will weak. His touch made you more sensitive, ready to burst at any second. But you tried to stay strong, stroking and bobbing him just as he licked you, trying to get him to an orgasm he had yet to have.

When your body was wracked with intense quivers, your bobbing growing sluggish and sloppy, Thomas pulled away. His cock was pulled from your mouth with a low whimper from you. Your back, having arched off the bed to shove your body into his, dropped heavily to the bed in defeat, pouting at the former runner. He walked to a pile of objects that had been discarded in the corner of the room, your frown piercing his bare backside. Slowly relaxing, the knot vanishing from inside you, you huffed.

“Seriously?” you asked yourself. Thomas must have heard since he sent you a sideways glance. “Rude much.”

“Sorry, baby,” he breathed, grabbing something from the pile. A rope dangled between his fingers when he turned back to you, the same one you used frequently to do the laundry at your tiny home, stringing up clothes to dry outside. Your brow rose, wondering what he was planning to do with that. “I had to go get ready for your treatment.”

“Oh really?” you asked. Thomas pulled you up into a sitting position, wrapping the rope around your dainty wrists. Tugging it into a knot, the rope didn’t constrict you too tightly to cut off circulation. There was no chance of escape though. If you struggled, your wrists would turn red with raw burn itching them. “Well, what’s the prognosis, doc?”

“You, my dear, are in dire need of cum in your pussy,” he whispered seductively, making you shiver and mewl quietly. “You haven’t had the proper dosage lately and you aren’t feeling well because of it. We don’t want it to get worse, so we will do some emergency treatments to make sure that you are going to be ok.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Thomas.”

Thomas grinned, settling between your legs. His shaft slid between your folds, making you cry out for him. You were eagerly waiting for him to do something more, but nothing immediate came. “I need to give you a shot now, baby. To give you the proper medicine. It’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

The tip prodded at your entrance before slipping in entirely - and all too slowly. The former runner pushed your legs apart to spread you wide, listening to the moan that erupted from your mouth when he pushed inside you. The sensation didn’t last, Thomas pulling out completely and leaving you whimpering for more. The process was put on repeat, his cock sliding into you so you felt otherworldly before disappearing completely, leaving you void yet wet with desire.

His lips trailed down your face, kissing your forehead, cheeks, chin and nose before colliding with your lips in a short connection. Your tongues tangled shortly, a trail of saliva stringing you together when he pulled away abruptly. Your eyes were glazed over with ecstasy, the emotion dulled because of his inconsistent thrusts. It was kept alive by his plump lips lavishing your face and neck, sucking dark marks that discolored your skin. Each thrust into you vanished before it could do more, teasing you into oblivion.

With a whine and scratch of bound hands along his chest, his cock stayed deep inside you, stilling absolutely. The slow circle of his hips against yours did little to keep the fire inside you burning, praying for more. More pleasure, more moans, more of his hips smacking into yours as he pounding hard into you, more arousal from his fingers to your swollen clit. When he finally pulled back, the feeling was kept low, his thrusts slow and calculated. The ease of his dick sliding out and the gradual push back in made you tremble with desperation. They didn’t hit the spots you knew he was capable of hitting every time he fucked you and the pleasure that came from his enormous member stretching you, filling you to the brim, was lackluster.

“Please,” you whined, scratching at his chest since you couldn’t wrap your arms around his neck as you wished. Brown orbs, darkened from the angle and lust, met yours in a spicy stare, waiting for you to continue - almost as if he was waiting for this exact moment. He knew deep inside what you were going to say and he had been waiting for this exact moment. His calculated movements were intended for this exact second.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked, kissing your lips softly, his slow thrusts never ceasing. “Did the shot hurt? I know you’ve never enjoyed shots.” He was speaking the truth; you hated shots. But this kind of shot was the one you wanted. It just wanted doing it for you. “Or is the medicine working? Do you need more?”

“I need more,” you cried, desperate to cling to him. The binding around your hands kept you from holding him between your arms, hugging him to your chest. “Please, Tommy. I need more.”

“More what?” he asked, pushing you to beg for him more. He wanted to hear you plead. He wanted to hear you cry. He wanted you to ask him for everything you wanted before he pushed so fast and hard into you that you were seeing stars. It killed him, but he waited, pursing his lips into a tight line to keep from smirking. “What do you need from your doctor, baby?”

“More!” you cried loudly, throwing your head back. Your hands left his red, scraped chest, extending above your head. Thomas’ eyes directed to your outstretched chest, your back arching off the bed and pushing into him more. “Please, Tommy. I need to feel you. I need you to go faster and harder until I am screaming your name. I want to feel your thick cock pounding my aching pussy. I want my tits to bounce when you thrust into me relentlessly. God, I need to feel you so bad. This slow moving shit isn’t doing it. The medicine you are giving me isn’t making me feel better. I need more of you. You are my medicine.”

“So, you want more?”

“Yes,” you panted, turning to meet his eye. “I need more, Doctor. I need more of you, daddy.”

“Mmm,” he let out, licking his lips. “Say that again.”

“I need you to pound me hard and fast, Doctor Daddy,” you begged teasingly, Thomas grunting. The name got to him, his hidden attraction for the daddy kink exposed to the confines of your room. “Please, daddy. I want you to fuck me. Have your way with me. Just, please, I beg of you, make me cum.”

“Say it one more time, baby,” came his gruff voice.

“Please, daddy,” you breathed, struggling to take his face in your hands. You did you best, pulling him towards you. Your lips brushed, hot breath hitting each of your faces. “Please, fuck me. Hard and fast so I scream. Then everyone can know who I love and who is taking care of me.”

You shared a lingering kiss, the touch of your lips so scarce, it felt like a dream. The tingle that was left from his lips on yours was all that remained when he backed away, leaving you to wonder if this was real or fake. It bordered on reality, the sensation making your heart pump harder and your blood flow faster. Only Thomas could make you feel that way from a simple kiss.

The next time he pulled out, he shoved back into you as quick as the pull was. A scream resonated off the walls, a spike of pleasure hitting your system. And it didn’t stop there. His thrusts grew hard and fast, just as you had pleaded. His cock pistoned in and out of you at godly speeds, the clap of your hips growing loud and more frequent as sweat built up between your bodies. His hands held your hips down against the bed, your legs staying parted so he could easily move in and out of you.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, voice low and husky. You moaned in response, squirming against his grip slightly. That noise you made only made his thrusts faster and harder, the man pounding you into the mattress under you. The entire bed squeaked under the weight of your thrusting forms, banging against the wall in a constant ‘thump, thump thump’ that got louder and more frequent as time passed. The stream of his cock thrusting in and out of you, hitting your sweet spot, was marvelous, your sight spotting. “You like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes,” you panted.

“You always love when I push my cock so deep inside you that you can’t breath. You always moan and pant like a dog, begging me to make you cum.” His hand moved from your hip to your chest, fondling a breast in his hand. The other remained bouncing with his countless thrusts, making his mouth water. “I love the way your breasts move when I thrust into you and the way your pussy clings around me. You like the feeling of my big, fat cock between your walls?”

“Yes, daddy,” you squeaked, head thrown back further. “You feel so good, Tommy. Please, don’t stop! Faster, harder!”

He did as you requested - if that were even possible. Your bodies crashed in a noisy array of smacks and claps, the skin on skin contact echoing around the crisp air of the room. It smelled of sweat and sex, a lustful scent ingrained in the wood and sheets around you. Sweat poured from your body from the heated aura of your bodies against one another, making you stick together. Thomas’ wild thrusts hit your g-spot every time he pushed into you like it was a magnet drawn to the source of your pleasure. Each tap made your walls hug around him more, clamping down on every inch of his erect cock that fit inside you, stretching you wide.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing harsh circles to it. He was trying to push you over the edge with the extra stimulation. The nub he pushed against was sensitive, every gentle swipe of the pads against it making you quiver. The subtle distinction of his fingers tracing letters against your arousal, spelling out his name for you to remember for all of time, was ebbed in your mind, your body beginning to writhe against the sheets, getting tangled in them. Your bound hands struggled to tangling through his messy locks, wet with sweat, trying not to smack him in the face in the process. Tugs to the dark tendrils made Thomas release a breathy moan, his adam’s Apple bobbing.

“Oh God, Tommy,” you cried out. The knot in your stomach twisted tightly, clenching almost painfully from holding on to your release. Your limbs were aching and your head was pounding, the pressure of ecstasy weighing down on your body. The coil was urgently ready to unwind, yet it didn’t. It sat like a lump inside you, craving release that couldn’t seem to come. No matter how hard or fast Thomas thrust, how good he made you feel, the orgasm never arrived. His heavy breathing was an indication he was close, but it was growing hard on you. Each pulse of his cock through your walls made you itch with pain. His finger on your clit made you wish he wouldn’t. “Stop. Tommy, stop.”

His thrusts slowed to a stop when he heard your plea, his eyes growing worried. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you panted, relaxing into the bed. The pain was slowly beginning to subside, your limbs going limp. “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Just… a little much I guess.”

Thomas chuckled, burying his head in your neck. “Guess I pleased you too much, huh?”

“You’re just that good I guess,” you joked.

“So, are you trying to say I gave you too much medicine?” he laughed, making your lips pucker sourly at his joke with the role playing circumstance you had put upon yourselves. “You’re not going to overdose on me, are you?”

“Not this time,” you laughed. “You’re taking good care of me.”

You had a double meaning in your words. In the current situation, you meant that he was making you feel good with the sex. But, you also implied that he took good care of you since curing you from the Flare. Even if he irritated you with the constant home care, you were thankful that he was taking such good care of you.

“I’m glad,” he said, kissing your forehead.

His eyes met yours, the man giving a gentle smile before leaning in to give you a tender, loving kiss. You eased into it, returning the kiss with an equal amount of passion. It wasn’t messy or careless where spit was flying and tongues tangled in messy swirled between your cheeks. It was the simple ones where his lips overtook yours, dragging along them in blissful silence. The quiet smack of your lips pulling apart made your heart race, pushing up for another kiss.

You felt emptiness hit you when he pulled out of you, his lips parting from yours. You felt him smile before he vanished from your view. You were flipped onto your stomach, propped up on shaky hands and knees. His toned body pressed against you, his shaft between your legs in your folds. His hands pushed your hair over your shoulders, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“We’re not done with your treatment though, baby,” he whispered. Kissing your ear, he continued. “You need some more medicine and this time, it’ll work. Just one more shot, alright?”

“Of course, Doctor Thomas.”

Thomas grinned, leaning back on his legs. His shaft slid into you, hearing you moan into the pillows your face was buried in. He pulled out slowly at first, slamming into you furiously. The speed picked up quickly until his hips were slamming into your backside in a noisy clatter. Your butt pushed up and into him, the angle allowing him to push deep inside you until he was hitting your cervix and g-spot. You moaned loudly with every push he did, shaking intensely.

“Thomas!” you screamed, the name muffled. Thomas pouted, his unseen expression displaying how much he wanted to hear you scream his name. So, his hand darted out, finding the hair he pushed aside before, pulling it back just enough so you couldn’t hide. His ears rang with the shrill screams from your mouth, the pout turning upright into a bright grin. His name flowed from your lips repeatedly, something to the effect of ‘fuck me, Thomas’.

“That’s right,” he hummed, smacking your backside with the palm of his hand. It ripped out a louder noise, a bright red hand print glowing against your skin. Thomas grunted in approval, jerking your head back further and placing more loud slaps to your behind. You were quivering under him, his powerful thrusts allowing his cock to piston in and out of you rapidly. Your walls tightened around him, his pulsating increasing and flowing through your walls into your veins. Your stomach clenched, the orgasm you hadn’t gotten before resurfacing - and quickly. “Moan for me, baby. Scream for me. Cum for me. Fuck, tell everyone who is fucking you.”

“Thomas is,” you squealed, tugging at the sheets with your bound hands. “Fuck! Thomas, you feel so good. I’m going to cum!”

“Cum for me,” he gasped, his thrusts getting sloppier. He was close, the knot inside of him constricting just like yours. It was burning, sitting in a fire that was crisping the edges to loosen it, shredding it into pieces. His chest heaved, panting for air as he pushed to an end. “Cum with me, baby.”

“Give me all of my medicine,” you teased. “I’m ready for it.”

The air caught in Thomas’ throat, hitching completely. His thrusts sputtered, letting out a raspy gasp. Your sultry words made the knot vanish, his seed spilling into you. Strings of hot, white juices shot out of the tip with force, filling your insides with warmth. Your walls, tightly hugging his entire shaft, milked the drops out of him, his orgasm long overdue. More of his essence seeped out of him, having built up from every delayed end, ejaculated deep into your womb.

The warmth he gave you, the full feeling you got, made your own knot crack. Your toes curled into the sides of his legs, your legs and arms going weak. Your juices splattered out around him, coating his shaft in arousal. A prolonged moan of his name slid off your tongue, feeling his thrusts slow to ride you both through your highs. Juices combined inside you, mixing together in a sea of salty sweet gold.

You collapsed on your stomach when he pulled out, Thomas falling on your side. His hand ran along your back, rubbing out knots that formed from the countless amounts of sex. He heard your content sigh, smiling to himself. His hand rested to your bum, carefully running his fingers along the stinging skin where his hand prints remained. Playfully, the tips of his fingers slid back between your legs, feeling the wetness of your core that was oozing from your combined juices.

That made him harden.

The heat of his hand left, the man swapping to stroke his length. He was hardening from his half-limp state, elongating and beginning to twitch, ready for another round. His girthy length sat in his palm, skin tugged over the head before resuming it’s normal state. You turned to watch him jerk his cock, preparing himself for a new round of sex. The red tip glared your way, your mouth watering behind seals lips. You loved watching him stroke himself, veins popping from his hand from his strong hold on the length. It glistened slightly from your juices still residing on his skin, the twinkle matching the mischief in his eye.

His tongue passed over his lips, rolling you onto your side. Your back was against his chest, his heart beating heaving against his ribs. A hand slid under your torso, locked around a breast, while the other slid between your legs, gripping your thigh and lifting your leg up. It shook weakly but remained danling in the open air, giving Thomas the perfect space to place his cock at your core. His lips found your ear once more, nipping the lobe.

“Your treatment isn’t over yet,” he huskily muttered. “You are desperately need of some Vitamin D that only I can give you. It’ll keep you happy and healthy.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor Thomas?” you asked, turning your head to kiss his lips. “Give me my treatment. I’m still not feeling so well. Please, Doctor. Make me feel better.”

Thomas groaned incoherently. His cock slid into your tight hole, the tip resting to your g-spot. You moaned loudly, the noisy drawn out with a odd vibration that echoed off the walls. The former runner you called your boyfriend wasted no time, thrusting into you quickly and powerfully. One leg remained flat to the bed while the other bent, his foot pressing into the bed to give him some leverage with his thrusts. Your head fell back against his shoulder from the pleasure he was causing you, tilted enough to see the focused look on his face. His lips were puckered in concentration, but his eyes were loving, staring back into yours.

His face leaned down, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips parted, your tongue taking control and slipping between his. The man let you control it, pushing harder into you while still focusing on his cock pushing into you at a fast but steady pace. His hips pressed against your butt when he pushed harshly into you, shaft sliding in and out in a slick mess. He was coated in your arousal when he emerged, disappearing back with a swift thrust. His balls, tighter than normal from his prior orgasm, still managed to flounced against your folds. Every thrust into you allowed your leg to bounce up and down through the air like your breasts.

Pulling from the sloppy kiss, he nuzzled into your cheek, kissing it tenderly. “I love you,” he whispered for the first time that night. His fingers lifted from your chest, running through your hair lovingly. Your heart rate picked up, slamming against your ribs. He always managed to make you float away on cloud nine, his declaration of love amanging to pique your own emotions for the man. He was one of a kind and made your life complete. And even if he was deeply dug in your pussy for added bliss, you were in heaven from being in his arms, hearing him mumble those three words.

“I love you too,” you returned, kissing his speckled jawline that had the teeniest bit of scruff growing on it. “Now, please Tommy. Make me cum. Give me that vitamin D. Fuck me fast and hard. Choke me. Pull my hair. Do anything, as long as I cum while you are inside me.”

“That’s hot,” he groaned into your cheek.

Running his fingers one last time through your hair, he placed it on your neck, constricting lightly. It kept your breathing tight, but the lack of one sense amplified the rest. His cock sliding into you felt ten times better, your core clenching around him. The pleasure was intense, flooding your body quickly. Your moans were choppy, your hands trying to grab at anything you could since they were still wrapped together, red from constant struggles. Your nerves were heightened from his neverending thrusts, feeling your stomach tightening once more. His tip hit your sweetest spot, the happiness you got from it making you quiver.

You came first this time. Your walls retracted into him, the knot exploding in fireworks through your system. You moaned - despite how gurgled it came out from the lack of air. Juices washed out around his shaft, your walls clinging to him as you spilled out. Your toes curled through the air, flexing and extending as your high hit. You wished you could have wrapped your arms back around him, scratching and tugging at his body until he was scraped with long red marks that showed your pleasure.

The moisture and heat from your orgasm made him break. His seed shot out of the tip, filling you to the brim in a mixture of your juices. Your body shook while his lurched, each pulse of his cock sending another string into you. His thrusts eased to a stop, the last drops trickling into your system. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, making him twitch. His hand dropped from your throat, both of you relaxing into the other in post orgasm glow.

The ropes were unwound before he pulled out of you, dipping down to kiss your core that seeped of your combined juices. You whimpered from his tender kisses, afraid you would get aroused again. But he carefully kissed any pain away, the taste of you both on his lips. Inching up your body, he left a tasteful kiss to your lips, falling to your side.

His fingers traced to your stomach, drawing random shapes to your bare skin. The other hand was back to running through your hair, your head angled to watch him. His content face had sparkling eyes and a toothy, lopsided smile. Neither of your cared that you were laying in bed naked without a cover. The heat around you was enough to counter the chill that hit you from the sweat on your skin. Your hand lifted to run fingers against his speckled cheek, tracing the constellation of moles on his skin. His hair was sticking up and his chest was still heaving, making his muscled bulge as he tried to relax into a state of normalcy.

“So,” you started, meeting his bright caramel eyes. “What do you recommend, Doctor?”

Thomas chuckled, burying into your shoulder to hide his amusement. You grinned, feeling the love radiating from his pores. “Well, I could write you a prescription,” he started, kissing your shoulder. “But, you definitely need a dose of sex with Doctor Thomas at least once a day until you are feeling better. We don’t want to keep you feeling so wound up and unreleased.”

“What if I never get better?” you challenged playfully.

“Guess you are stuck with me then, huh?” Thomas teased.

“I don’t know if that’s necessarily a bad thing.”

Thomas nodded, taking a deep breath. A silence formed between your both, your hand resting on his on your stomach. You jumped in surprise when he propped up on his elbow staring down at you. “Something has been bugging me this entire time, Y/N,” he stated, making you frown. The use of your name instead of a cute pet name had you worried. “I’m not really complaining because this entire thing was sexy and hot and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I will never forget this and the sex… god, this was the best sex ever. But…”

“But what, Tommy?”

“Why?” he asked. “What was the point in all of this? I highly doubt that it has to do with you just wanting to be kinky and wanting to play doctor and patient. I know you better than that. What are you trying to tell me?”

“Sometimes, I really hate how smart you are,” you laughed bitterly. “WICKED was right to use you, Tommy.”

“Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you sighed. “I… I was just feeling so overwhelmed, Thomas. You know I love you and I always will. I want to be by your side for the rest of my life. But, your constant checking on me like I’m going to suddenly get sick again and die just is stressful. I love knowing that you care but you take it too far. I’m suffocating under your constant care. I know you want me to be ok but I’m not going to up and die randomly. You can relax, babe.”

Thomas’ mouth parted and closed, trying to find the words he wanted to say. His fingers moved to lace with yours, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, rubbing his lips together. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I just wanted to know you were ok. I almost lost you once and I’m scared something will happen and I will lose you for real. I’m afraid I will catch on too late and won’t be able to save you. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that. I really am.”

“It’s fine, Tommy,” you told him, pulling him into a tender kiss. “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you care. Just… lay off a bit. We can arrange something to keep an eye on me since we know I’m not immune. But don’t stress yourself. Don’t drag me off to take my temperature and check for signs of the Flare. Don’t panic and think I will drop dead if I walk through the Safe Haven. Don’t keep me locked up in bed because you want me to be safe in your mind. I will be fine because I have you and the others helping me if I need it. But, definitely, I have you caring for me every step of the way because you love me and I love you.”

“Alright,” he agreed, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry,” you laughed. “Shit happens. We work it out, Tommy. That’s what a couple does.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, I don’t deserve you,” you laughed. “You know, I do have a reason now to see my doctor. I need my medicine, Tommy.”

Thomas’ eyes lit up, a smirk curling on his face. “That’s right. Your prescription,” he hummed. “What are the chances that by cumming in you, I’m keeping you Flare free?”

“Oh god, Thomas,” you groaned. “I was just implying that we need to have more sex.”

“I know,” he hummed, kissing you softly before moving to straddle you. His shaft, growing harder by the second, slid between your folds. “I need to give you lots of medicine to make sure you are safe. So, let me give that to you.”

“I like that idea,” you mewled, wrapping your arms around his neck like you hadn’t done since you crawled into bed. “Doctor Thomas to the rescue.”

“Damn straight.”

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tacitwhisky · 5 years

Text

Jon of the Kingsguard, pt 12

Jon x Sansa - AU where Jon goes to Kingslanding instead of the Wall, there’s no war, and he becomes a knight of the kingsguard even as Joffrey marries Sansa.

AO3 Link

---

A week Jon stays at Castle Black, just long enough to see Joffrey kneel in the sept and spit out an oath to the seven to serve the realm, to forsake all lands and titles, to never sire sons or know a woman’s touch.

“You might take the black yourself.” Benjen says to Jon as Jon saddles Viserion, breath misting in the chill morning air. “If the Lannisters should defeat your Targaryen queen they will take your head for what you’ve done.”

“They’ll try.” Jon looks out at the walls and tower of Castle Black, the black brothers giving him and Viserion a wide berth. In another world this would have been my life. The thought is a strange one: to never have gone south, to never have been knighted, to never have grown to know Sansa. Who would I be if I had stayed? “But it will not come to that.”

“I hope you’re right.” Benjen studies Jon as he would a stranger, careful and distant. I am a stranger to him, Jon realizes suddenly, the thought a dull stab. Stranger and turncloak, dragonrider and traitor. “For your sake.”

Jon nods silently and pulls himself up onto Viserion’s back. He turns his voice hard. “If Joffrey deserts I will find him. Tell him that. Tell him that no matter how fast or far he runs I will find him.”

Benjen nods, and then there is nothing else to be said. Viserion spreads his wings and leaps into the sky.

---

All day and all night Jon flies, Viserion’s wide wings coasting along the cold air, and come the dawn Jon catches sight of Winterfell, the sky orange and purple as the sun rises behind it. Around Winterfell a great host of tents has been raised, men already beginning to wake and stumble out among them. All the strength of the North Jon recognize them as, the flags flapping below too small to make out but for their colors: Bolton pink, Umber red, Karstark white on black.

Jon guides Viserion in three long, lazy circles around Winterfell. When he’s sure they’ve been seen, the figures within the castle’s courtyard scurrying like ants from a kicked nest, does he guide Viserion to land in Winterfell’s courtyard, alighting before the figures hurrying back and forth have a chance to do more than gape up at the white winged shape above them.

The gathered Stark bannermen do not flee, though most stumble back and grab at swords and spears. Jon jumps down from Viserion and fixes the nearest with a steely gaze. “Where is lord Stark?”

“Jon?” Tall and broad Robb has grown since Jon left him all those years ago, face that of a man instead of a boy, but his red Tully hair is unmistakable as he strides forward. He glances at Viserion as though he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing, and Jon has the urge to stride forward and embrace him, the brother he has not seen for so many years. But before he has a chance to take a step, Robb’s eyes flick from Viserion to him, a hard distant look in them. “They said you’d broken your vows and turned your cloak, but I didn’t believe it. I told father that it must be a lie, that you would never betray the realm for some mad Targaryen queen.”

The words sting, but Jon forces his voice even. “I did what I had to. Joffrey was a worse king than Danaerys will ever be.”

“And Sansa?” Robb’s eyes flash. “What do you think will happen to her? Do you think your foreign queen will be merciful to a traitor one? Did you think of her at all before you ran off?”

There’s no way for Robb to know: not when he’s never been south, not when all he knows of Sansa is a raven now and again, a formal missive or three, but fury still fills Jon. “ Everything I’ve done is for her,” Jon answers coldly. “You have no idea what I’ve given for her.”

“Was breaking your-”

“Stop it, both of you.” A slim and dark haired figure slips out from the circle of bannermen and moves between Robb and Jon. Arya glares at Robb, then pivots to look at Jon. “I knew you would come,” she says. For a moment it seems like she’s going to run and throw her arms around him just as when she was young, but something bitter flickers over her face. “You have to talk to father, don’t you?”

Jon nods.

“He’s in the main keep.” Arya purses her lips as she looks up at Viserion behind him. “Can your dragon be left alone?”

---

In the warm of his father’s solar Jon tells them of all that’s passed in the years since Ned and Arya left for the north, forces himself to push the words between his teeth. He holds little back: tells of Sansa’s bruises and silences, of Joffrey’s follies and tyrannies, of his own journey eastward and Danaerys Stormbon, Mother of Dragons and first of her name. Ned listens silent and impassive to all Jon has to say, Robb clenches his jaw tight enough to crack teeth, and Arya is pacing back and forth in the room like a cat in a cage by the end.

“The Wall is too good for Joffrey,” she snarls as soon as Jon’s voice trails away. “You should’ve roasted him alive, Jon.”

“Arya,” Robb snaps, but his own face is tight. He glances at Jon, gaze guarded and curious. “Why didn’t you?”

“If I had it would’ve raised every sword from Kingslanding to Casterly Rock.”

“They’ll rise all the same for Tommen.” Robb’s face twists in an ugly expression. “And to think we were to ride to his aid.”

Despite the weariness of flying all day and the lulling warmth of the fire blazing in the far wall, Jon forces his voice strong as he turns to his father. “Wait to march south. A week, perhaps two. That’s all I ask. A raven will come from Kingslanding before that.”

Ned doesn’t answer immediately, eyes studying Jon in the same distant and unreadable way as Benjen’s had, and the same knife as before stabs through Jon, no longer dull but keen and cruel. I’m still your son, he wishes he could plead, I did what I had too. But he is a man grown and it is too late for petty reasons or excuses.

“Do you ask,” Ned says finally, “or does Danearys Targaren?”

Jon draws himself up, uses the last of the strength in him to meet his father’s hard grey eyes. I did what I had too. “I do, father.”

Ned studies him another long moment, then nods. “So be it.”

---

The raven takes less time than Jon thought to arrive, its black wings sweeping over Winterfell’s walls the next day. It bears word from Kingslanding, and in his father’s solar, Jon listens beside his father and siblings as maester Luwin reads out a decree from king Joffrey himself: that in penance for his father’s betrayal and crimes against the Targaryen royal family he has taken the black in atonement, and that Danaerys Targareyn is now the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon studies the red and cracked wax of the king’s seal as Luwin speaks.

All he hears is Sansa.

---

Another letter comes a few days later. It bears no seal, only a few scant words inked in a graceful hand. Kingslanding is Daenerys’, it reads. She’s to wed Tommen. Stay in the north, Jon.

---

Weeks turn to months, and each day brings new word from the south: that Dorne and the Reach and the Stormlands have pledged themselves to Danaerys. Bitter rumblings come from the Westerlands, but Danaerys flies to Casterly Rock to treat with Tywin and his war is done before it is begun. In the weeks that follow one by one the northern lords disband from around Winterfell, folding their tents and returning to their holds and keeps and castles.

Jon stays at Winterfell as Sansa’s letter bade him. It is strange to walk the halls of the castle he once called home, to speak to those he once knew. But it is sweet to speak to Arya again, to muss her hair even though she’s grown taller, to call her little sister and see how skilled she’s become with a sword. To see how tall Rickon has grown and speak with Bran, now a maester of the Citadel, and meets Robb’s Karstark wife and little Rickard, his shy and Tully haired son.

Meeting the boy brings a smile to Jon’s lips, but it is a small, sad thing. It should be you here, Sansa, he thinks silently. Not me.

---

Months pass, and each morning Jon takes Viserion on long, slow flights beyond Winterfell’s walls, pine and oak blurring beneath his white wings, cold wind whipping Jon’s face.

Ned is waiting in Winterfell’s courtyard one day when he returns, long and impassive face tilted upward to watch Viserion’s descent. He holds out a scroll to Jon as he jumps down beside him. “It names the Starks as warden of the north,” he answers Jon’s questioning look. “It pardons me for my part in the rebellion and confirms all my lands and titles.”

Jon nods as he unravels the scroll, fingers still tingling from the whip of wind. “I had Danaerys swear she would.”

“I know.”

Jon raises an eyebrow as he looks for himself over the words inked across the rough vellum. “She said so?”

“She didn’t need to.” Jon glances up to see his father studying him. Whatever he’s looking for he seems to find, gaze moving to where Viserion coils behind Jon. “It’s past time I told you.”

“Told me?”

His father gives him a long, sad look. “Of your mother.”

---

For hours they talk: of a rebellion and a mad king, of a song of ice and fire, of Lyanna and Rhaegar and a tower called Joy. When their words have run dry Jon leaves his father’s solar and crosses to the rookery. He writes a short, swift letter, rolls it tight, and hands it to maester Luwin.

Jon watches the raven take flight, black wings flapping as it speeds into the sky and turns south. He stays watching the sky long after the raven is vanished, the cawing and crowing and chatter of the rookery around him a distant crackle. And who am I now, Sansa? A part of him whispers silently, an aching pang in his chest. Who am I to you? Who was I ever?

---

Danaerys letter in answer is short. It affirms him as her blood and heir until such time as she has issue of her own. Jon gazes down at the scroll for a long time, paper rasping beneath his fingertips as he wonders how many of the words are Daenerys’ and how many Sansa’s.

---

That night, for the first time since he came north, Jon dreams of being a wolf again. The old familiar scents and smells fill his nose, the same thrill as he runs beside his grey sister, the same silver moon dipping to watch them.

Come back to me, it murmurs. Come back to me, Jon.

---

It’s been nearly half a year since he came to Winterfell, Jon aloft on Viserion, when he sees a procession making its way up the Kingsroad. He circles it twice, taking in the red and black snapping pennants of the queen’s colors, before taking a long looping flight back to Winterfell.

He lands in the Winterfell courtyard just as the gates have begun to grind open. With wind numbed hands he drops down from dragonback and stands watching as through the gate a pair of dothraki ride. Jon’s heart pounds in his ears, but he finds himself unable to move as behind them trundles a wheelhouse, wheels churning the frigid ground as it comes to a halt inside the walls.

Sansa does not see Jon as she steps down from the wheelhouse, and for a long moment Jon can do no more than simply stare as she shakes out her skirts: chest too tight to breathe, heart thudding against his ribcage, unable to do more than drink in the rosy flush of her cheeks and muted fire of her hair and wide blue of her eyes, how young and hesitant she looks as she tilts her head back to stare at the high towers of Winterfell above her, here in their home for the first time since they searched for Arya in this same courtyard so many years before.

Behind Jon Viserion shifts, scales rasping, and Sansa’s eyes fly to him. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth on an indrawn breath, face draining of color. Her eyes snap to Jon.

And before Jon can react she is running across the yard, throwing herself at him and he’s sweeping her up in his arms, clutching her to him, the sweet and spring scent of her filling his nose, the shape of her soft and warm and achingly slender in his arms, all the rest of the world lost to him as he buries his face in her hair and murmurs a hundred meaningless words into it, a broken litany of apologies and promises and pleas.

“I’m sorry,” he realizes he’s whispering again and again, throat burning, tongue tangling over the words, “I tried to come back to you, Sansa, I did, but I couldn’t, I-”

“You did what you had to, Jon.” Sansa pushes him back just enough to stare up at him, eyes a blue he’d thought he’d never see again, shining fierce and wet with tears. “You did what you had to, and we’re home now, Jon. We’re home.”

#jon of the kingsguard #my fic #jonsa #jonsafic #jonsa fic #actually jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark

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danceswithseatbelts · 5 years

Text

Follow My Lead

For the AnS Obi x Yuki soundtrack Event ~ I chose to take my three song files and merge them into one longer story. Word count: 1994. Rating: teen (some swears). Genre: Adventure.

Summary: Thrown together by chance? No, Obi had spent too long following, protecting and loving Shirayuki to allow mere chance to screw with his future. What was happening now, however, was something he'd never considered might occur. A clan celebration was being held tonight - and he was invited. Obi knew this was the last step into full acceptance - and if Shirayuki accepted him, well, he'd spend the rest of his life keeping her happy.

Christoff closed his one eye and allowed the music in his soul to guide his fingers. The oft-repaired bow danced over the scuffed body of the violin, creating beauty. Solo finished, other fiddles, drums, flute, and voices joined. All the remaining clans-folk who were in any way talented with an instrument played. Tonight was an homage to freedom and the heady promise of a wide-open future.

Several youths were coming of age and this impromptu festival was going to be special. The war that had lasted years and decimated the whole country was over. The treaty ink was dry and the rulers of this land were beholden to the clan - and appreciative. Earlier they had feasted and now they danced, Christoff smiled and played louder.

Bodies whirled from partner to partner. Festival dress. Bright colours and the finest fabrics clothed dancers, watchers and musicians alike. Time for joy. The moon shone equally on every person. Tears leaked from Christoff's ruined eye hiding behind a silver patch. He'd lost his sister, but Shirayuki had lost her mother.

The music played faster and Obi darted after Shirayuki as she danced wildly through the twisting participants. In the centre of the camp was a roaring bonfire; the dancers grooved close to the heat and then dashed away. Laughter, conversation and promises mingled in the air.

Mariette, the clan leader removed the lid from a special container. Silent, her eyes invited the revelers to dip their ceremonial horn cups into the brew and drink.

Shirayuki nudged Obi who stared, motionless. One after the other, the dancers moved to the offered refreshment. They took a share, drank and danced away. Obi shrugged and pointed to his empty belt loop.

Shirayuki patted her skirt and withdrew a dark-red cup made of horn, placing it square in Obi's hands. "Made from the ibex we hunted together. Christoff helped with the carving, but not much."

"I'll treasure this, Miss Yuki." Obi smiled, hurried after his charge and served himself the offered drink. It was cold and slipped down his throat, soon erupting into the warmth of potent alcohol. Obi coughed and sputtered.

"I'll treasure that." Shirayuki giggled, downed her own drink and helped Obi tie his new drinking vessel to his belt loop. "This is where the dance gets even more exciting!" She grabbed his hands and smiled without any bashfulness. "Follow my lead."

The music Obi realized, had never stopped. It had quieted while they drank - but now it returned to full volume and vibrancy.

Shirayuki took handfuls of her skirt and shook it playfully. The glow from the fire made her hair a bolder shade of red, a living river of blood. Her forest green blouse with tiny red flowers complemented her black skirt. She'd never looked so wild and beautiful to Obi.

They danced to the far edge of the crowd, the moonlight brighter than the distant fire. Obi mirrored Shirayuki as best he could, his feet not as fleet as hers, but still making a good effort. He began clapping as Shirayuki spun in place, her skirt flying high and her hair swirling with the same freedom. Mouth dry and heart racing, Obi held out his hand.

A blush - not from the exertion of exercise - coloured Shirayuki's cheeks and she stopped dead in front of Obi. Her head tilted a bit to the side and her eyes glittered with mystery. Shirayuki took hold of Obi's hand in both of hers and held it against her heart. "Do you wish to follow?"

Ghostly mist rolled across the ground, obscuring the festivities from Obi and Shirayuki. A trio of church bells caroled. It ought to have sounded merry, a complement to the clan's party, but it held a warning. Something fearsome waited in the new-made gloom.

Shirayuki leaned against Obi and whispered, "The fog is early."

"What it is, is strange." Obi checked the perimeter for anything out of the ordinary. What sounded like a regiment of boots stomping, coming near - filled their ears. A sudden swoop of cold wind took hold of Obi's cloak as if it wanted to tug him away, to hide in the warren of small buildings. Never one to dismiss his instincts, Obi lifted Shirayuki into his arms and ran.

The clouds scudded across the cruel moon, light, and shadows bringing confusing images. Before, the noise of the boots had been almost a solid presence; and now, silence. Obi peeked around the corner of the building they hid behind. Only a dozen figures stood in a circle, not the regiment they'd sounded like. So odd though, no barked orders, curses, no jingling of coins in pockets, whispers or whistling?

The wind gusted, sending detritus skittering down the street. A large crumpled news page cartwheeled towards the soldiers. Obi knew full well how easy it was for patrols sent out with secret orders to remain incommunicado. Orders to stand down might lag behind for several weeks or even months. They had to be unaware of the recent peace treaty. About to muster his courage, to approach the men and share the news, he flinched and gasped.

The news page passed through the squad. Dammit; not all the dark mages had died with their master. If the mage were more powerful, they'd be able to quell all sound and substance at the same time. So, in this at least, was a small blessing.

Pulling back behind their shelter, Obi gazed at Shirayuki with terror-filled eyes. She opened her mouth to question him and Obi shook his head, laying his fingers over her lips. Guiding Shirayuki backward he pointed to the brick buildings in the distance. Obi gave Shirayuki a serious look. She could feel the alarm buzzing like a wild beast under Obi’s calm façade.

Slow and careful they walked over the uneven cobblestones. The wind howled and subsided. Some garbage skittered by and other pieces connected with a wet slap that made their bowels clench. Safety was in sight, almost within reach. The heavy boots marching sent Obi and Shirayuki racing into the fog. If they could reach a building, they could hide.

Half rotten boards made a slipshod barricade that Shirayuki wriggled through. Obi needed to pull a board off before he could fit his taller frame inside. Shirayuki found a shelf to huddle beside. Anxious for Obi to rejoin her, she wrung her hands, afraid to talk.

He spun around but couldn’t see Shirayuki until she waved her hand. A sigh of relief hissed from his lips and Obi sank to the ground beside his partner. For all the terrible terror of the last ten minutes, right now, he felt much lighter.

Shirayuki slipped her cold hands into Obi’s and held tight. Obi nudged Shirayuki and relaxed further as she pressed her cheek against his. Her breath was sweet and alluring; desire flared to life deep in his gut. Obi suppressed his baser instincts and pulled away enough to quiet his hormones.

Silence. The wind had dropped and the fog must be smothering sounds. Obi strained his ears and studied the shadows on the floor of the derelict building. Long minutes passed making him realize the silence was too deep and complete. Obi shot to his feet and pulled Shirayuki with him as well. He whispered, “An exit?”

Shirayuki pointed to the thin slats covering the empty front windows. Glass was too valuable to leave behind in a failing shop.

A shout and both Obi and Shirayuki could hear the suddenly muttered concerns of the soldiers. Minutes ticked by as nothing changed - but the ominous feeling of pressure continued to build. Obi recognized the slow draw of steel from scabbards. Obi hurled himself through the flimsy window barricade - springing to his feet as fast as he could. Shirayuki followed him, the soldiers bursting inside the market shop too late to capture them.

Racing hand in hand, Obi and Shirayuki pelted down the narrow alley and whipped around the corner. Fright was a mighty fine inducement to find untapped speed. Somehow they’d run in exactly the right pattern to confuse and throw off their pursuers. The shouting faded away. Obi and Shirayuki found themselves very close to the clan’s festival square.

Obi remembered the freely celebrating elders, drinking copious amounts of thought-fogging alcohol or imbibing other products known to slow reflexes. Dread rose to strangle what little breath he had left. He squeezed Shirayuki’s hand and released it to cup his ears. No music. The violins were silent, no voices lifted to shout lurid lyrics, no happy chatter of any kind.

One tear slipped down Shirayuki’s cheek, and then another as she closed her eyes and tried to will celebratory noise to life. Lips set in a firm line she lifted her chin and whispered an oft-recited prayer. “Brave warriors, should death find us, let it be swift. May our courage not falter to bring mercy and peace for all.”

Echoing her, Obi added a heartfelt, ‘please’ instead of ‘amen.’ Shirayuki snapped open her eyes. “Goddess willing, we will find things as we left.”

“Your Goddess has delivered before, I hope she can do it again.” Obi hugged Shirayuki, holding tight as if this human contact would purge all their fears. “We have come so far through this foolish war. To die at this moment would be the height of stupidity.”

“My Goddess is a divine healer.” Shirayuki knuckled away her tears. “I only fight because I must. But I would promise to serve as her healer, bound a full decade if that meant we find lasting peace.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“You cannot promise. Life is a rushing stream, different from one minute to the next, no matter how well one knows the lay of the river.”

Obi sighed, content to stand close to the healer favoured by the Goddess - only, Shirayuki was more than a healer. She was hope and beauty; strong-willed yet able to bend to seek justice. Shirayuki was the home Obi had spent years searching for - all those years restless, no ties to anyone - no family. “I promise.”

“Then follow.” Shirayuki began a circuitous route, keeping one hopeful ear open for signs of the clan party. She prayed to not hear signs of pursuit. More fog swirled over and around the crumbled rocks that bounded what everyone had thought was safe territory. No noise - celebratory or from soldiers hunting prey. Obi snagged Shirayuki’s hand. He pulled her back before she could take the final step and see, Goddess willing, the mute aftermath of overindulgence.

“Wait.”

“For?” Shirayuki turned and blushed as Obi held her shoulders tight, bringing his face so very close to hers. He had no way of knowing how that made her stomach flutter - could he? She licked her lips and held her breath. War had taught her many unpleasant lessons - and she needed to stay strong, for herself and her clan. “Time is a precious gift. Right now we stand poised to learn if harm has befallen my clan…”

“I made a vow, did I not? My life is bound to yours.”

“During battle.” Resolute, Shirayuki kept her gaze level with Obi. “Goddess knows many have begged forgiveness after such declarations.”

“She delivered and I always keep my promises, Goddess bound or not.” Obi lifted his hands from Shirayuki then tapped his dagger. “I am your shield.”

“So be it.” Shirayuki took another step - halting as Obi took a handful of her vibrant red hair and softly tugged. She turned with a scowl and began to speak -- words silenced by hot, hungry lips.

Obi poured years of want into his kiss, needing to show Shirayuki exactly what she meant to him. A kiss; made of love, belonging and the hope of a future spent together. Obi broke the kiss and smiled tenderly at Shirayuki. “Let’s forge a path, together.”

#obiyukisoundtrack #AnS #Obi x Yuki #Obi x Shirayuki #danceswithseatbelts #fanfic #rated: teen #day 1 #day 2 #day 3 #all days #track 1 #track 2 #track 3 #all tracks #Follow My Lead

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