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clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

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There is no such thing as vampires #1 || Jurdan AU

Jurdan Smut Week 2020 • DAY 2

The prompt was technically dagger play...it didn’t really worked that way but HEY more smut! (vampire smut cough)

@jurdannet @jurdannetrevels

Rating: E (no I don’t mean ‘everyone’)

Warnings: Explicit content, mentions of blood, some biting (it’s a vampire au c’mon), swear words (just in case)

Summary:

Behind me stands a tall, slender man dressed in black trousers and one of those puffy white shirts men always use in period TV dramas. Raven curls frame the sharp angles of his face and his pale skin resembles marble. I stare at him unsure if my eyes widen because of the scare or how good looking he is. Maybe both.

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying.

Extra comments: Just because I’m extra af, I’ll leave you the ambience music videos I listened while writing this. In case you’d like to hear them while reading:

Rain in a forest at night - Haunted Mansion/rain/thunder/wind - Narnia Lullaby

Written for: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 MA’AM AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR ALL THE HELP AND SUPPORT, FOR BETAING THIS UNENDING PIECE AND FOR HELPING ME CRAFTING THE IDEA FOR IT! ❤️

Part 1 || Part 2

Masterlist • AO3

“Please tell me again why are we doing this?” I ask for the third time, leaning to rest my head on my sister’s shoulder. We bounce as the uncomfortable van we travel in turns to a cobbled path, leading us deeper into the woods.

“Because,” Vivi hisses back. “Your little brother is currently in his Twilight-obsession phase, and he just broke up with his girlfriend so we’re trying to cheer him up!”

“He’s 9! And they lasted like, what? Four hours?”

In that moment, Oak turns violently from the front seat, scowling at me. “First of all Jude, we were together two full days ok? She was the love of my life and suddenly she’s not sure about us anymore? Now I shall never find love again! I might have to become a priest. I expect a little consideration.”

Vivi ruffles his hair affectionately. “We absolutely understand, your sister here doesn’t have an ounce of romance in her veins but of course she supports the cause.”

That said, he returns to his place. I bite my lip hard, trying not to laugh. Typical Oak. I love my brother I really do, even if half of the time I can’t understand his dramatic outbursts.

Sighing, I stare through the window, to the heavy clouds gathering on top of us. Great. We are probably far away from the highway by now, nothing more than trees, rocks and occasional wild animals around. For some reason, our father had thought that there was no better way of fixing a kid’s broken heart than going on a quest in search of legends and hidden castles.

The thing is that apparently, it works. Instead of an incessant whining about love being doomed, my brother spends the days throwing the most random facts about werewolves, vampires, ghosts and any impossible creature. To be honest, I don’t think wikipedia and the Twilight books are a reliable source, but if it makes Oak happy I could live a couple of days with it. And most importantly if I have to choose between this or spending the week back at home with my mother and twin sister going to tea parties for old ladies, well, the answer is very clear.

I remember reading a few books about myths when I was younger. When I turned fifteen, I developed a hard crush on Brad Pitt after I saw Interview with the Vampire, filling half of the walls in my room with posters of him. Even now ten years later, I actually enjoy talking about old folklore and legends, urban myths and stuff like that.

What bugs me, are the fraudulent morons who want to take advantage of Oak’s naive curiosity to engage us in the most ridiculous tours that were obviously a waste of money. So far, we’d entered three “museums” where most of the so-called relics were made of plastic, and a haunted house with special effects so poorly done, father had discreetly asked for his money back. Only another two of the places we visited were actually interesting, but since the guides spent most of the time flirting with Vivi or me, it had annoyed our father.

Now though, we are driving behind the car of an old couple who swore their ancestors owned a castle where true vampires had lived once. The sole mention of the word “castle” was enough to make Oak hang from our father’s sleeve begging to go.

I’m not going to lie, it is an intriguing idea. But I remain a little worried about how much money Madoc is ready to pay before he hurries his little son back to his fantasy books and videogames.

“Dad, did you know that vampires like to live in the woods because it allows them to make racing competitions without being interrupted?” Oak asks with enthusiasm.

Madoc gasps. “Do they? Is it because they’re so fast?”

Okay, he might be willing to pay more than I thought. Next to me, Vivi muffles a laugh and keeps taking pictures for her instagram, occasionally asking for my help.

Upon arriving at the castle I have to suppress a curse. This, now, is a real castle. Nothing like the pitiful buildings we’d visited before. It is huge, made of pure stone and a modest wooden bridge that connects the entrance with the spot where the cars park. A slight fog covers the sides of the castle giving it a creepier look.

A shiver goes down my back. I turn to find my family who are all equally gaping at the place in front of them. Oak is visibly shaking with excitement. Vivi shoots me an astonished look before taking my brother’s hand and following the couple across the bridge.

The first thought that pops into my mind is that this place must have been taken out from a movie. Or set up for one. Maybe this is one of those pranks for TV. There is no other explanation for the massive room we find behind the giant front gate. Every inch of the walls is covered by paintings, several images barely recognizable through the dust. Aged furniture rests under dust and spiderwebs, pointing out they haven’t been used in quite some time. The illumination doesn’t help either. Electric lights hang from a few spots on the walls, though not enough for the big space, which I suspect is the reason that long candles are lit up too.

My next thought is that I should’ve brought my sweater. The damn place is freezing.

“Phew, sorry about the dust!” The old man says, flashing an embarrassed smile to us. “We were not planning to have any visitors yet.”

“You said this is going to be a museum?” Madoc asks, carefully surveying the walls. Next to him, Vivi tightens her hold on my brother’s hand to prevent him from starting to run around. I swear his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets.

“It will indeed! This place has been in our family for generations, but since it’s hard to adapt it to modern technology it was abandoned.” He turns to Oak and winks. “Not to mention the creepy things that happen here all the time.”

His gaze widens. “What kind of things?”

“Well, some distant relatives used to try spending their vacations here. But after a couple of days they left in a big rush, claiming some strange force had commanded them to go away.” With a lower voice, he adds. “They also mentioned noises coming out from empty rooms and dark hallways. Steps. Shadows that followed them along the place.”

For a second everyone remains silent. The only noise I can hear is the wind outside and the start of a slight rain. Somehow my hands are even colder.

“The legend says,” The woman, whose name is Marrow if I remember it correctly, continues while taking one chandelier with her hand. “This was the hideout of ancient vampires, how many, we don’t know. But they didn’t appreciate people trying to live within their domains.”

“So why come here at all?” Vivi asks. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“It might be.” She shrugs. “But that’s half of the fun, isn’t it?”

“We like to think we’ve found a safe way to open this castle to the public without taking any risks. We will use a part of it as a museum, to show some of the family relics. But be aware, no one is allowed to go further than the marked area.” He signals at the yellow tape stuck on the floor forming arrows.

“If you please...” Marrow says, motioning at the stairs where the markings start.

They get me for a moment, not gonna lie. The surroundings and the way they speak are creepy enough to make me doubt my beliefs for a second. I shake my head to clear those thoughts away and walk behind my family. There’s no such thing as vampires or haunted castles.

We go through passages. Madoc has to remind Oak to not touch anything, constantly. From what I see, he’s living his best day. Several counters line up side by side against the wall. Some of them contain jewelry, others weapons, old writing pens among other things. Most of them carry a family shield, although it’s too blurry to properly identify what it says.

The rain thickens outside and Marrow keeps talking. She tells the story of her so called ancestors, whose family were big enough to fill all the rooms in the castle. Elwen, Eldred… something like that, and his many wives had once lived here. Along with his abounding children. I see in Oak’s face the intention to ask about how that family arrangement worked but Vivi gives him a slight pull of his hair.

I would have thought our guides would try to keep a proud name for their so-called ancestors. But they don’t. In fact, she seems particularly interested in explaining how Eldred’s cruel and terrible nature brought him nothing but disgrace. His once prosperous castle and assets were gone little by little. He claimed he was under the effects of a curse, but no one dared believing him. At least not until people started disappearing.

I stop listening at some point, focusing my attention on the relics in front of me. I’ve always felt a significant attraction to weapons, but not the ordinary ones like guns or rifles. These ones though, such beautiful daggers and swords. I’d give a kidney just to hold one of them.

On the next shelf books pile one next to the other, the dust around them a clear sign of how long they’ve been unbothered. All except for one. The navy blue cover has almost no dust at all, yet it looks like it would fall apart with a gentle blow of wind. The title is partially gone, probably through time.

I turn my head to my family but they’re gone, probably to another corridor since I can still hear the muffled voice of Marrow and my brother. Would she care at all if I check out that book?

I bite my lip. As long as it doesn’t break it’s probably alright. Standing on the tip of my toes I reach for it.

“That is an excellent book.”

I shriek and whip around, my hand flies to my mouth trying to cover the embarrassing sound. The book falls open next to my feet.

His lips curve as if he finds my reaction somehow satisfying. “My personal favorite. Too bad the author was a poisonous bunch-backed toad.”

My mouth opens to apologize, but I only manage to let out a strangled. “Shit”

The stranger lifts an eyebrow and chuckles.

“Sorry, I- that wasn’t what I meant to say.” I stutter. I feel as if my heart has jumped to my throat. “I wasn’t trying to steal the book.”

“I did not say you were.” He answers, his voice is like velvet.

I nod and take a deep breath. “I came in with my family. Marrow is showing us the place.”

His dark eyes wander down my body, but not like one of those rude men on the streets. No. Something in his gaze feels feral, like an animal sizing up his prey. A strange urge to run pools in my stomach, yet at the same time my muscles seem to have forgotten how to do so.

He looks me in the eyes again and it’s all gone. I let go of the tension in my back and a breath I didn’t know I was holding. When he smiles again, I feel as if I could trust him. Why shouldn’t I?

“And are you enjoying the tour?” He bends to pick up the book I’d dropped before and puts it back on the shelf. His movements are fluid and carefree. I doubt I’ve ever seen such elegance in a simple action. It is unsettling as much as it is attractive. Then I realize I’m supposed to answer.

“Yes, this is amazing actually.” I look around and take in the aged stone of the walls and ceiling. In that corridor there’s only one electric lamp, the rest is only lightened by candles. I can see our shadows dancing along to the flames. “All of this really helps getting in the ‘mood’.”

“The mood?”

I look at him and notice his tilted head. “Yeah you know, the mood of enchanted castles and old legends. This is well put enough that a credulous person would believe any story. Marrow is pretty good at it too.” Motioning a hand to him I add. “They even have their own actor.”

A thunder roars outside. “I beg your pardon?”

I roll my eyes and flash him a smile. “You don’t really have to keep the charade with me. I’m not some schoolgirl.”

“Yet I managed to pull a scream out of you, didn’t I?” The way he says it feels as if he was talking about an entirely different subject. Heat creeps up my cheeks.

“That was… not the same.” I mumble. “I didn’t hear you approaching. That could scare the living hell out of anybody.”

“I have been told I am quite sneaky, I concede you that.” He nods. “Why don’t I give you the rest of the tour? As an apology, of course.”

He’s doing his job, I remind myself, he’s not flirting with you.

“You haven’t even told me your name.” I say. “If we’re roaming around a castle together I should at least know who’s guiding me.”

That sounded an awful lot like flirting. Dammit.

“Cardan, at your service madam.” The tone he uses feels like a caress, he bows his head in a way I’ve only seen in movies. He takes his role seriously. I almost chuckle, but the sound dies in my throat.

“Cardan.” I repeat, just for the pleasure of doing it. “My name is Jude.”

He straightens. “Delighted to meet your acquaintance.” He answers and offers me his arm. “Shall we, Jude?”

I can’t believe how far away my family has gone. Cardan and I walk through a couple of corridors and still there is no trace of them. Did we take that long talking?

He’s an excellent guide, I have to acknowledge that.

While Marrow uses a tone of suspense and mystery, Cardan has this melancholy in his voice that sounds as if he’s talking about a memory. It’s bewitching. He also drops the most ridiculous “facts” about the people on the paintings. I refrain myself from asking if inventing things is allowed for employees, because saying that the girl with the pearl necklace enjoyed to play on the beach while saying she was the Princess of the Sea, certainly sounds like it.

“If you bite your lip one more time, I am going to do it for you.”

My heart skips a bit and I let go of my lower lip. I hadn’t realized I was tugging it. It’s an unconscious habit. I turn to him and I find his gaze different, hungry. It sends a shiver down to a place I know it shouldn’t. He arches an eyebrow as though he notices it.

“Is that a thing vampires like to do?” I say, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing I want him to know is that for the last twenty minutes I’ve been listening to him speak wishing he put a different use to that wicked mouth of his.

His gaze doesn’t change. “It is a thing I would like to do.”

I am pretty sure my expression is giving me up by now. Knowing my traitorous body, I’m probably flushed, my mouth open in awe. Desire coils inside me.

At my lack of answer, he continues. “Why don’t I show you something vampires really like to do?”

He walks back without letting go of my hand. I notice he steps out from the marked section and into a forbidden corridor.

The sensation returns, the one that is telling me to run. The problem is that I don’t know whether to run away, or straight to it. My mind wants both and my body, only one.

“You’re going to the restricted area.” I’m partially surprised by how breathless my voice sounds. “You can’t go in there…”

Cardan pauses and a confused expression crosses his face. A second later, it returns to his charming and teasing smile. “Are you afraid?”

I am.

Yet, I don’t care. I walk into the shadows with him.

As we cross the passage darkened by the lack of chandeliers I tell myself this is a terrible, terrible idea. The way he devours my mouth the moment a door slams shut behind us, convinces me it is the best.

Cardan pushes me against the wall, the cold temperature of the stone goes through my clothes making me gasp. He takes the opportunity and kisses me harder, his tongue explores my mouth with such deliciousness I have to bite back a moan.

My fingers are tangled in his hair pulling him closer to me, if such a thing is even possible. His hands are everything but still. They roam intensely from my breasts, down my sides and finally to my rear, where he grabs me, pressing me against his pelvis. I hear him groan and the sound makes something clench inside me.

Before I can double-think about it, one of my hands lowers to rub his hardness, still hidden behind his trousers. His breath hitches. He pulls back a bit and whispers to my ear. “Needy little human.”

I frown a moment, something about his words not clicking inside my brain but whatever it is I forget it the moment he slides his cold hands under my jersey. I yelp at the sensation, not sure if what flutters down my back is a result of the temperature or the eagerness which he’s holding me with. When he reaches my bra I hesitate for a moment. Cardan pauses too and leans back to stare into my eyes.

“Do you want to stop?” His voice is throaty and charged with desire. Still, he doesn’t make a move, waiting for my answer.

An instinctive part of me knows this is something I shouldn’t be doing. But that’s definitely not any close to me wanting to stop. Without removing my eyes from his I take the hem of my jersey to pull it over my head. The piece of fabric hits the floor, but neither of us pays attention to it. Once again Cardan’s gaze roams me in that predatory way.

I don’t stagger this time.

When my bra falls to the floor too, I take his hand and guide it to my jean’s button. “Do I look like I want to stop?”

Without hesitation he yanks the button open and slides his hand inside to cup the apex of my thighs. The contrast of my warm skin against his coldness makes my hips buck. Cardan buries his other hand in my hair and tilts my head back. I can feel his lips nipping down my jaw and my neck. A moan escapes my lips as he swipes a finger along my heat. He hums in response, the vibrations of it against my neck makes my eyes roll back.

He continues his ministrations until he feels me wet enough to slide a finger inside, he curls and pulls out. Then back inside. My breath comes out in elaborated pants as he quickens his pace. My hands almost finish unbuttoning his shirt when he slides another finger through my folds, his movements turn fast and punishing. Wet sounds taint the silence around us. As pleasure takes full control of my body I cling to him like a life saver, trying to muffle my moans.

“Let go Jude, let go for me.” He breathes next to my ear. My back arches and I sob a curse, writhing down on his hand.

He slows down as I come back from my orgasm, but never stops. Despite the freezing surroundings a drop of sweat runs down my chest. My heart beats as if I just ran a marathon. Cardan’s lazy moves continue, frequently grazing that spot that makes me mewl.

I hear him sigh. “You smell so good.” He claims my mouth one more time and bites me hard enough to make me wince. His tongue caresses my lower lip and a warm throb expands through my veins. He freezes and pulls back, releasing me. I stare at him in confusion, or at least as much as I can manage giving my current state.

He pants a couple of times before looking up at me. There’s a fiercess in his eyes that would’ve been scary under normal situations, right now, it only makes me want him more. He swallows before finally speaking. “If we go further, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice is like sandpaper.

My body seems to work on its own account, as I move to cup his face between my hands. “I already told you.”

“Jude…” He warns me, but I interrupt him joining my lips to his.

“I want this.” I breathe into his mouth. Cardan lets out a defeated groan before pulling my body back against his. Either he’s been holding back or it is until that moment that I realize how strong he actually is. He kisses me like a starved man and I can feel my pulse rise once again.

Soon his shirt joins my other clothing. My fingers trace his chest and torso, marveled at the softness of his skin. I mimic him moments before and kiss his neck. A low sound that almost resembles a growl comes out from his throat. My hands travel lower.

Somehow I manage to free his raging erection from his trousers, closing my hand around him. He hisses and then tilts his hips up to my touch. I start pumping him with unsure movements before gaining confidence to do it harder, tighter. Now it’s his turn to curse. Even though it sounds like something taken out from a Shakespeare novel, it makes my core pulse.

Cardan grips the hem of my jeans strong enough that for a moment I fear he’d rip them away.

“Take these off.” He demands instead.

I’m not sure of how I manage to do it. My mind feels blurred with a mix of sensations. Disoriented, not sure about exactly how my body is doing all of that, and the bliss of knowing I’m enjoying every second of it.

Before the air hits my skin, Cardan lifts me from the ground. My legs circle his waist in a reflexive move. His lips quirk in approval. Then my back is once again pressed against the wall, making me arch in a failed attempt to avoid touching the cold stone. A sound leaves my mouth, though it is not clear if it’s a protest or a moan. I hear him chuckle in my ear and I turn my head, searching his lips.

His kiss is slower but still deep. I feel as if small electric sparks are tickling every single one of my nerves. More, I need more. Cardan holds me in place with his hips, letting his hands wander up and down my legs.

The tip of his shaft is grazing my core over the thin fabric of my remaining piece of clothing, with an aching slowness that is not enough to ease my thirst. More.

I might have said that out loud because Cardan’s hips grind faster against me. It feels so good. And yet, it’s not enough.

I whine his name like a plea.

He continues for a couple of torturing seconds before reaching between my thighs again. There’s no teasing now as he moves my panties aside and immediately sinks his fingers inside me, pumping in and out with a pace that has me gasping in no time. He murmurs something I can’t understand and lines himself up to my entrance.

With soft, deliberate movements he slides through my heat, letting me feel every inch of him until he’s completely filling me. Then he stills. My muscles twitch around him, trying to adjust to the invasion. The exquisiteness of it is making my head swoon.

Cardan grabs my jaw and locks his gaze with mine. I can imagine what he’s looking at. Hooded eyes and flushed skin, though he doesn’t let me think a lot about it as he starts to move. Slow at first, with careful strokes that quickly evolve into long and deep. My mouth falls open at the sensation and my eyes shut.

“I warned you.” I hear him pant. “That there was no coming back.”

A whimper escapes my lips. I’m not even sure I’m actually trying to say something. He doesn’t seem to care either and leans to whisper to my ear. “You are mine now, Jude.”

There is something in the way he says it, his words carrying some compelling implication I can’t fully catch. His lips trail down my neck and I want to answer. To tell him that I am, that after the way he’s taking me, how could it be otherwise?

That’s when I feel a sharp stinging pain on the base of my throat.

I cry out and try to shake it away but whatever it is won’t let me go. Cardan’s words echo at the back of my mind, Needy little human.

As if sensing my thoughts he grabs my thighs and opens them wider, he thrusts into me harder and faster. Everything mixes in sensation. Pain leaves as fast as it came, leaving behind it that throb in my veins I can’t really explain. It is more intense now, what I felt as warm now is scorching. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, I’ve never felt so exhilarated before in my life. I don’t want it to stop.

Cardan sucks on my neck again and I moan his name. Without realizing it, I’m on the brink of another orgasm. I only realize it because he groans when my legs start to shiver around him. I cling to his neck and his hair. If I’m pulling too hard I can’t really know. A familiar swirl comes up from my core to the rest of my body as I spasm around him. It takes me a moment to notice the broken moans and sobs I hear come from my own mouth.

He keeps going a little longer until his fingers tighten over my skin, surely leaving bruises on both thighs. Muffled moans ring against my skin as he comes, thrusting in a couple of times more before stilling. A warm sensation covers the place where we join together. His mouth lets go of my neck. I grunt and shiver.

He puts me down carefully, still holding my waist, which is good considering I don’t know if I’m able to stand by myself. I feel dizzy. Cardan lowers his lips to mine one more time. He’s slow and gentle as though he’s worried. There is a slightly metallic taste in his tongue but I don’t pay attention to it. I trace the fine features of his face with trembling fingers. Little by little my senses start to take in the surroundings, the cold.

The place rumbles with another crack of thunder.

“You have to go back.” Cardan says, barely pulling his lips apart. Go back. I frown, then images of my family crash in my mind. I look around searching for the door, there is something on the floor. I realize soon those are my clothes. Shit. The tour, Oak. How much time have I been gone?

I dress in a hurry, not really caring if I put on my jersey correctly. He does the same but with the calm an elegance he has.

Panic must be written in my face because he grabs my chin and turns me to him. “Hey. Calm down.” He soothes me. Then his tone changes, turns commanding. His eyes are darker too. “Listen to me. You are going to do exactly as I say, do you understand Jude?”

I want to ask why, but for some reason I only nod. Cardan grabs my hand and pulls me out of whatever room we were in. “You must follow this passage until you find a way to turn left. Then continue until you see a painting of a black snake then turn right, you cannot miss it or you will get lost. Walk straight, and you will be back to a safe area.”

“But-” I start. I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t understand why but I don’t want to separate from him either. Which is nonsense, I barely know him and still...

He interrupts me. “I cannot go with you, I have lost so much control already and I don’t think…”

“Cardan, I can’t-”

A growl echoes in his chest and he pulls me closer to him. While his voice is still hypnotizing it sounds threatening now. “You will not tell anybody about what you saw here. Now go if you intend to leave this place alive.”

Then he's gone. I can’t recall if I blinked or turned, because a moment before I could still touch him and now he vanished.

I take a deep breath and start walking. Focus. Go straight, then turn right. Or was it left?

All passages look the same, some spaces don’t even have a painting or anything at all to help me differentiate them. Sometimes I whip around, thinking I heard a familiar chuckle behind me. Distant rain is the only sound that is a constant companion, but even with it I’m able to hear an echo of every step I give. It unsettles me more with every minute that passes. Although I feel more in control of my body than before, my knees falter constantly and a sensation of tiredness slides over my mind.

I find the snake painting just as I’d started to think I would be trapped here forever.

It’s huge, and despite the years that have probably passed the scales still seem to shine. The head is painted in an angle that gives the illusion of the eyes following the person looking at it. It doesn’t help that the candle’s flames also make the snake look as if it’s moving. Stalking. Before noticing, I start hyperventilating. I shut my eyes close and turn away. Something is terribly wrong with me, I need to get out.

Turning right, I start running. I cover my ears fearing that if I don’t, I’ll start hearing the snake’s hiss behind me.

I cross an arch made with the same stone and stop right in my tracks upon realizing somehow I’m back at the room where we first arrived. I blink to adjust my eyes to the change of light, since here’s where all the electric lamps are. The room is empty though.

I’m not sure of what I am supposed to do now. Sit and wait? Go out to the car?

While I’m weighing my options, trying to choose any that doesn’t imply dropping myself on the floor to have a panic attack, I hear murmurs and steps getting closer.

“Jude!” My little brother yells and runs to me. Behind him, Vivi scans me like she’s trying to find something wrong. I straighten my back and put on my best calmed face.

“Where were you?” She demands. “We lost you hours ago! Are you ok? You look pale.”

Always such a mother hen, I sigh. “I’m fine. I fell behind and lost y’all. Then... I guessed it would be better to just… return here.”

I try not to frown at my last words, since I didn’t fully intend to say them. You will not tell anybody about what you saw here.

“Jude knows how to take care of herself.” My father adds. I could hug him, but we’re not exactly the affectionate type. So I just flash him a smile.

Vivi does not look convinced but still stands down. “I guess so. The weather did a mess with your hair though.” A flash of Cardan’s fingers pulling from it to gain access to my neck sends a shiver through my body. Had that really happened just minutes before?

Before I can answer, Marrow calls for us. We turn to find her standing next to a big set of paintings that apparently were covered with a curtain. “You cannot leave without meeting the royal family.”

The canvases are ordered to mimic a family tree. A man with a severe expression rests at the very top. Eldred, I assume. Just by looking at it I feel judged. I can’t imagine what was like to actually live with him. The pictures of his wives look all so different but under them, their sons do have resemblance to one another. A weird sensation tickles my fingers as my gaze continues travelling over the paintings. Finally, I get to the last one. Once more, I cover my mouth to avoid an undesired sound.

Staring back at me I see Cardan.

I don’t care if it’s a painting, there is no way I could not recognize those features. Those lips.

“A big family, I see.” Madoc’s words seem so far away.

Marrow hums in agreement. “The Greenbriars always felt proud of their vast offspring. Such attractive sons and daughters. It’s a shame the curse took most of their lives all those centuries ago.”

“Did he…” I start, without knowing how to continue.

She approaches me to look at the canvas. “Ah, young master Cardan. He was the last one of Eldred’s children.” Then a frown appears on her face. “There was a lot of controversy regarding his death. Some say he died because of the curse, some others say he was the curse. The books all have different versions.”

“That sounds creepy as fuck.” Vivi says.

“Creepy as fuck.” My brother mimics her, the thoughtful expression on his face makes him look ridiculous. We cackle as Vivi shouts Oak he’s not supposed to say bad words.

By the time we get out of the castle the rain has decreased to a drizzle.

Madoc carries Oak on his shoulders, listening to his non-stop squeals of excitement after visiting what he calls ‘a real vampire hideout’. This time, I don’t find the words to contradict him. Vivi is the first one to get to the car, shouting back some nonsense about the Greenbriars needing a protection hex.

The moment I step down from the bridge something shifts in my head and I feel as if I had just woken up.

Perhaps it is me who needs a protection spell after all.

Before closing the car’s door, I turn to the castle one more time. Marrow and her husband wave at us from the front gate.

A dull ache throbs on the base of my neck and my hand flies to the spot. I retrieve it and see blood staining my fingers.

My heart misses a beat when I lift my gaze to the upper windows, where a tall figure with white shirt and dark hair is looking right back.

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

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @sweetlyvillainous @poeticbrownmermaid @aesthetics-11 @thesirenwashere @jurdanhell @nightbringer @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @vanessa172003 @booksandothersecrets

If you wish to be tagged/untagged (or if I forgot to tag you like an utter idot) please let me know!

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sonicringbond · 4 years

Text

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 52

Hopefully as everyone is reading this things have improved for me. My mental state has been a bit of mess at the time of writing this. I’ve had fears for the future of the AU and my ability to write it at all. While I have big plans and changes in store, it’s surprisingly difficult to stay enthusiastic. Strangely, only my primary villain seems to keep me motivated. But they won’t appear here, too an extent I suppose, but there is another villain who returns in this scene. I’ll let you see who now in...

“Oh~! I see more flowers,” Blister began as she stepped through the Ring Gate and watched Zooey embrace Tails. She grew distracted a moment however as she took in the sight of the Ring Gate Beacon room. The ceiling of shifting blocks covered in glowing geometric patterns was almost mesmerizing. “Wow~. I have to get one of these on my ship.”

“Maybe later,” Tails stated as he put his hands on Zooey’s shoulders and pushed her back, although as gently as he could. “Right now, we have to support Sonic. Zooey, can we map out the catacombs from the bridge.”

“The Engineers and I already have a map in place,” Zooey confided in Tails, though still peeked around him curiously at Draw and Blister. Tails’ urgency pulled her back however as she felt his grip tighten on her shoulders. “We can use the same sonar method we used to map the city to keep track of Sonic and give him a heads up if anything goes sideways.”

“That’s great,” Tails sighed relieved and started to hurry for the bridge, stopping only long enough to look back and ask Zooey another question. “Is it sensitive enough to pick out people?”

“I don’t believe it is, but the catacombs should be large enough for the Tornado to fly through.”

~|~

“Ho! An aeroplane of all things to best Claymore the Purple,” Claymore scoffed as he strode through brick halls that were open on one side to a cavernous hall beyond. “How the mage caused so much trouble with so small a force. No less he bought the time to take to the skies again. Ho! It is like that I would do well to remember the name Sonic the Hedgehog, unless I should stop him and my other guest all at once.”

Weighing the thought of confronting two Ring Mage’s, Claymore chuckled nervously to himself. “Ho! My first real battle since waking and I must face two Ring Mages. Would that I could be joined in battle by my fellow knights.”

~|~

“I don’t like it,” Rosy puffed up her cheeks, her problems multifold.

“Well, you’ll just have to bear with it,” Sonic encouraged Rosy to not let the situation get to her. As he was sitting on top of her pressing her deeper into the cockpit of the Tornado, his words seemed uncaring. Though they were no meant to bet, he had his own problems controlling the biplane as he had one hand occupied holding onto Rosy’s tarot card case. “Just consider it for your own protection.”

“I don’t need protected,” Rosy puffed her cheeks up even more. “Besides, if what Tails said is true, we won’t have time for me to be kept safe. We have to go stop Ix.”

“You know who you’re talking to, right kid?” Sonic feigned being hurt. But Rosy was not feeling playful.

Beyond the cockpit, even squished uncomfortably behind Sonic as she was, Rosy could see Yoluku in the sky, the upside-down sunset becoming a tighter and more sinister smile with each passing moment. A chill ran through Rosy looking at it, and she could swear even without her cards that she heard those same whispers.

It’s fine. This is fun isn’t it? Enjoying a desperate adventure to save the world with your true love. How entertaining!

“Hrm~!” Rosy emitted a low growl and puffed up her cheeks more. Not liking the voice in her head, she contorted herself as best she could behind Sonic and managed to get access to her wrist device.

“Tai~ls!” Rosy whined into it. “Please tell me you have somewhere for us to go!”

-I do!- Tails’ voice came back across the radio.

~I want to feel relieved while Tails guides Sonic through how he needs to fly the Tornado into the catacombs. It’s actually a lot of fun too, the way Sonic pilots his plane around the towers of the city and down into a chasm I didn’t know was in the city. Ooh~! It’s so exciting, but the situation isn’t good. Yolk is… I don’t know what Yolk is any more, but I have a really bad feeling.

~It’s not like me to have bad feelings, especially when Sonic is here. I know he’ll save the day, but something isn’t right. I just have a hard time believing Ix was seen so easily. He had me and everyone else fooled when I first met him, so to think he would be seen going into these oversized catacombs. It just doesn’t feel right. I wonder if this is supposed to be a trap. But for who? Did he even know I was going to be here? Ooh~! I don’t like this!~

“We’re going on foot from here,” Sonic stated as he landed the Tornado on a small ledge, bringing the short flight to an end. As he left the plane, he worked he wrist device under his ow glove cuff. “I’ll relay back to you what I see Tails, but you’re going to have to be on your game to get us to where you think our uninvited party crasher is going.”

-No problem, Sonic!- Tails’ voice chirped confidently across the wrist device’s radio. -Just watch out for traps.-

“No worries there,” Sonic laughed. “In case you haven’t forgotten, I have a world class rascal here to take care of them for me.”

“Soni~c!”

~Sonic’s ability to stay cheerful, even in the face of danger is always so inspiring and always helps me forget that people call me strange for doing the same. I can’t help but smile running with him through these ancient stone tunnels. Though it would be nice if there were less traps. But, well, a lot of traps that needed to be tripped were already tripped as Sonic and I ran past them. It’s hard to say running so fast, but they look more like they were disarmed rather than tripped. I shouldn’t be surprised, but… I kind of feel like it looks too familiar how they’ve been disarmed.~

~|~

“Alright, how much further do you want to drag me into this place! It’s been nothing but trap after trap and no rewards worth the risk!"

“Silence, treasure hunter! I must endure this humility and so will you.”

“Yikes! Don’t lose your feathers old man!”

“An old man who will outlive you, treasure hunter!”

“Alright, alright! Just put my gun down. I’ll stop asking questions.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you both focused.”

“Yeah, well if I could I’d leave you both under a pile of rubble if I thought it’d do anything you talkative pile of rocks.”

“Keep talking, treasure hunter. It fascinates me how your mouth is able to dig a grave.”

“Yikes!”

Watching the antics of Doctor Fukurokov, former leader of the now all but defunct Battle Kukku Armada, and Fang the Sniper, the troublesome treasure hunter who introduced Rosy to the world of adventure for his own gains, Ix would have sighed if his stone form possessed lungs. The two were anything but dignified. Though at least Fang put on no airs of false dignity like Doctor Fukurokov.

Still, Ix’s plans required both, lest he had been rid of them ages ago having learned all he needed from them via a forced Ring Bond.

“There will be time for you to torment the Child of Chaos yet, Child of the Heavens,” Ix at last interceded by walking between the owl and jerboa-wolf hybrid. His actions were meant to do more than break line of sight between them however, as he continued forward causing Fang to panic.

“Watch where you’re walking you blasted statue! You’re going to get us all killed!”

Fang’s excited shouting carried through the catacombs, straight into the twitching ear of a certain pink hedgehog girl. “Fang!”

“Him again, huh?” Sonic sighed in response to Rosy’s exclamation.

“Ooh~! Don’t be like that Sonic!” Rosy chided Sonic before suddenly picking her own route deeper into the catacombs.

“Hey! Amy! That’s not the way Tails is–”

“It sounds like Fang is with Ix!” Rosy interrupted Sonic and dashed off, following the sounds of the voices and her intuition.

“This isn’t a great time Amy! AMY!”

Left with little choice, Sonic took off after Rosy. It was going to be far from a difficult task to catch her either. For as much as she did her best to run at Sonic’s speed, her stumbling and general clumsiness was not the practiced and instinctual scrambling that Sonic performed that allowed him to run freely nigh anywhere. As large as the catacombs were, however, Fang did not possess Sonic’s speed. As he was the one searching for traps, he was the one controlling the pace at which Ix’s party progressed.

“Yeesh, the weasel, the surprisingly resilient birdbrain, and the statue who really would have been better served staying in bed,” Sonic remarked as he skidded to a halt and saw the odd group. Or at least odd to Rosy who did not see the panic on Fang’s face as anything but a desperate plea for help. Naturally, Sonic saw it differently. “So how are you going to lie your way out of this one, weasel?”

“Ho! Funny, Ring Mage,” the voice of Claymore boomed from beyond Ix. “I was aiming to ask you and the medium the same.”

“And now, all of the players are present,” Ix remarked, his blue glowing eyes taking in the autogolem knight, the treasure hunter and pirate, and the two hedgehog’s who he silently deemed the most troublesome of all his obstacles.

Scene 52 · CLEARED Party Crashing, to be continued

-----

And there we go. Two scenes left to finish up Season 1. There’s a lot of ground to cover, and hopefully I’ll be able to have Sonic meet my main villain. It’s just there is so much to cover, and it’ll likely inflate the scenes. The smart thing to do would be to stretch it out, but I really want to end the season inline with the anime season. So, if everything went well after I wrote this, in one week Season 1 will be finished and Season 2 will be quite different in it’s handling. Please look forward to it!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Insatiable (From “Final Fantasy XIV”) - Vocaloid Version – Azina, Masayoshi Soken – Insatiable (From “Final Fantasy XIV”)

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #miles tails prower #fang the sniper #doctor fukurokov #pir'oth ix #sonic oc #claymore the purple

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lostinfantasies38 · 4 years

Text

Modern AU Sirrastair

Here is more from my modern cop/Carta AU with Alistair and Sirra that no one asked for. Except, it’s NSFW, so there is that! Mind you, it's a WIP and subject to change. But I wanted opinions on how it’s coming along. 💛 @kittimau @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @fluffymabari @sharkapologists @river-of-asgard @schoute @lyrium-lovesong

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tossing his keys on the ceramic dish perched atop the low bookshelf with a clatter, Alistair sighed heavily as he laid his wallet beside the ring of metal, smoothly locking the door with his other hand. Pushing off the frame, he strode into his kitchen and yanked the fridge open. A trip to the grocery store was desperately needed, but he never had time with the late shifts. Grabbing the last beer, he popped the top on the stout and poured it into a clean glass.

Admiring the foam in anticipation of the first cold sip, he almost missed the slippery scratch of pebbles under someone’s shoe from the deck. Unclipping his holster, he palmed his Glock and ducked into a crouch. Working his way through the edge of his living room, he stayed in the shadows, thumb resting on the safety, itching for an excuse to flick the switch.

Peeking around the sliding glass door, the slightly open door, he froze in shock.

Sirra Brosca was draped across one of his deck chairs, curvy legs in snug leggings propped on the railing, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger. She glanced up with a bored expression, her lips faintly quirking before settling into a plump pout and patted the chair next to her.

“Hello, handsome. We need to talk.”

Tilting his head suspiciously, he slid onto the deck, gun in hand. “I don’t know whether you are incredibly stupid or stupidly brave to break into a police officer’s house.”

The signature smirk that had haunted his thoughts and fueled more midnight fantasies than he cared to admit bloomed on her heart-shaped lips.

“I’m Carta. That should tell you all you need to know about me and my motives. And technically, I didn’t break in. I’m merely trespassing. I cracked the door to get your attention, that’s all.”

Alistair shook his head while sinking into a chair against his better judgement. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have given me that tip. Thanks for that, by the way. Although, I still don’t know why you would give us that kind of intel.”

“Quite the haul, right?”

He noticed she pointedly did not give a reason for divulging the information that allowed them to intercept 9,000 kilos of lyrium from the port before it could hit the streets. An estimated street value of eleven million Crowns, it was the biggest bust in Denerim’s history.

Tucking his weapon back in his holster, he steepled his hands and leaned closer to the dwarven woman. “Why are you here? What do you want? Is there where you tell me I owe you and I say I don’t help criminals?”

Chuckling in that damnable husky voice, she crooned. “Ooo, a romance angle! Are we star-crossed lovers now? Does that make you Guinevere?”

Smiling despite himself, Alistair snorted. “I think I’d make a dashing Lancelot, thank you very much. A pity the days of knights and codes of honor are dead.”

Sirra shook her head almost fondly. “Not quite. You strike me as a very gallant guy, willing to do what’s right, no matter the cost.”

He leaned back against the chair, creating distance between them, but she followed his retreat. Unfurling her legs from the railing, she pressed forward, dropping her voice to a whisper.

“You know, the Carta has a dossier on every cop in town. Just like you have on us. None of your ‘undercover’ cops goes unrecognized. We see every move you make and it’s why you can’t nail them without an inside man… or woman. It’s why I chose you, Officer Theirin.”

Alistair tensed under her intense stare, held captive when she slid gracefully out of the chair, ankle boots tapping softly against the wood. He noted the fitted cut of her forest green top, drawing his eyes to her ample bosom, watching with rapt attention as she swung her wide hips with each step. Every move was an invitation, and he idly wondered if he would see the killing blow. If he would even care.

Placing her hands on either side of the chair, she caged him in, staring at him under thick, curled lashes and murmured. “Former Grey Warden, exemplary military record. Most well known for clearing an entire school of children as Fog Warriors set it on fire. Against orders. You returned to the conflagration multiple times, carrying out boys and girls covered in ash until the building was empty. I saw the footage, Alistair.”

He shivered at the sound of his name in that raspy voice. “H-How? The footage and the mission were sealed. There is -”

“I have my ways,” she interrupted airily, flicking her dainty fingers. “You are probably the closest this Age has to a knight. You are honorable and good. Maybe a little naïve, but that is part of your appeal.”

Crawling into his lap, she hummed appreciatively to discover how perfectly she fit in it. The man gasped as her thighs wrapped around his, her round ass deliciously close to where he wanted her, yet not close enough.

“Sirra…” he ground through clenched teeth. “What are you doing? What do you want? What is this all about?”

Licking her lips, she held his gaze as she leaned close, veering right at the last second to purr in his ear. “You need me, handsome. If you want to take down my father’s organization, you will need me. And… I need an alibi.”

His hands found her then, locking around her hips like steel as he growled into her curtain of hair. “Why do you need an alibi? Why me? You know what, nevermind, I don’t think I want to know. If you want to be an informant, which, for the record, I haven’t yet agreed to - I can’t be your alibi. And this is hardly keeping our working relationship professional, don’t you think?”

Grasping at straws, raging a war against his own desires, he struggled to find a way to get the dwarven woman off his lap before he did something stupid that involved little to no clothing. Her face filled his field of vision, nose ring flashing in the faint sliver of moonlight, and he had to remind himself to breathe.

“First, I don’t need an alibi tonight, but I know the time is coming when I will need you to cover for me. My father is not the only thing I’m running from. The pit is full of vipers.”

Alistair frowned heavily at that, a dawning realization that she was not doing this just for him. She was escaping, and he was her ticket out.

“Second, I never said this partnership had to be professional… or respectable. We’re both adults here, aren’t we, handsome? Of course, if you want me to get off your lap, I will.”

Gripping her generous curves tightly, he answered in a strained voice. “No, I don’t want you to do that.”

Smirking, she brushed her lips across his in a chaste kiss. “And that’s the rub, isn’t it, gorgeous? You don’t want to want me as much as you do. Because of who I am. Because of my name. Does it hit a little close to home?” Sirra’s teasing smile softened when his hazel eyes darkened.

“Shut up, you damnable siren.”

A large hand wrapped around her neck and pressed her lips fervently to his full mouth, and they moaned in unison as their lips and tongues fell into a natural rhythm. Scooting forward on the chair, he rose, and she locked her legs around his trim waist. Once inside the house, her small hand carefully closed the door behind them as his lips moved down her neck, nipping at the sensitive junction where it met her shoulder. She gasped in approval, bucking against his abs, and he chuckled.

“Wh-where are you taking me, Officer?”

Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously, and Alistair’s chest tightened in a way he didn’t really want to analyze right now. Instead, he smirked, murmuring as he circled her throat with licks and kisses.

“Where I take all naughty women who sneak into my backyard and proposition me with offers too tempting to refuse: my bedroom. Where else would I take you, Sirra?”

“Ancestors save me. You better not take me anywhere else, Alistair.”

He chuckled again, full of promise, and she shivered wantonly as he carried her through the hallway to the master suite. “Oh, I don’t know, I may want to take you all over this place before the night is through.”

They tumbled on the king-sized bed and she claimed his lips urgently. As they parted for air, she scrambled out of her top, revealing her full breasts barely contained in her black bra, and soft curves he needed to get his hands on. Alistair groaned as he kicked off his shoes desperately.

“I hope you live up to that promise, handsome. I want all of you and then some.”

Flicking her leggings absently aside, she froze as he shrugged out of his shirt, bronze muscles rippling in the moon-washed room. Without pausing, he unsnapped his gun, ejected the clip and laid them on his dresser before unzipping his trousers.

She could see the trail of auburn hair that led to what she really wanted, peeking through the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Sirra moaned unintentionally, the clingy fabric of his underwear leaving nothing to the imagination.

Alistair paused and glanced at her then, splayed out like a Satinalia present on his bed. Dark hair pooled underneath her flawless skin, reminding him of marble statues of ancient goddesses displayed in museums. Sex personified as she bit her lip, a flush blooming on her chest, her eyes nearly black as she ogled him.

“See something you like?” he taunted as he stepped out of his trousers. Striding confidently toward the bed, he knew she was drinking him in. His cock heavy and hard between muscular thighs, still hidden from view, but obvious through the thin material covering his modesty.

Exhaling raggedly, Sirra breathed, “You know I do. What about you, gorgeous? See anything you like?”

Reaching the edge of the bed, he shot her a dark gaze full of want. “I see what I’ve fantasized about since that night in the club two months ago, Sirra.”

Her breath hitched at his honest confession, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Alistair watched intently as it dragged along her luscious mouth. Snagging her hip, he gently maneuvered her to the center of the bed and hovered over her. His voice was low and raw when he spoke again.

“But what I have before me is even better than I imagined. I am in deep with you already, siren. I have been since I met you.”

Lifting her torso slightly off the bed, Sirra reached around to unclasp her bra, a sultry laugh tumbling from her mouth when Alistair swore at the sight of her pierced nipples.

“Oh, darling, you ruined me that night in the club. And now I plan to return the favor.”

#sirrastair #sirra brosca #Alistair x Sirra #modern au #modern thedas #dwarfmance #star crossed lovers #cop au #carta darling

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riverdale-events · 5 years

Photo

Camp Riverdale: Session 1 has been a resounding success! The outpour of creativity was astounding and took fandom by storm. Our favorite Riverdale residents were portrayed in a vast array of AU locations, times, and situations. Our 6 themes accrued a total of 122 creations on Tumblr and 18 fics in our AO3 collection.

The creative participants deserve flowers and a thousand thank yous for all their hard work. They really brought forth the content during what would otherwise be a hot, lazy summer slump. Don’t forget to comment, direct message, like, reblog, flail — whatever your pleasure, but take a moment to show your appreciation for the talent and time spent by those who participated. Creators are what make a fandom so special and keep us all here. Without further adieu... onto the content!

Queen Leda of Sparta | betty | edit | @sweetpea-cc

at midnight, Riverdale burns | bughead | edit, fic | @milkshakesandmurders

Do the divine love? | reggie x oc | edit | @bugheadsjetty

Mythological OCs | oc | edit | @sweetpea-cc

Family secrets | oc | edit | @shrugheadjonesthethird

We remember | oc | edit | @queen-daenerys-stormborn

Riverdale Divine I | betty, cheryl, veronica | edit | @gabsjellybean

Riverdale Divine II | archie, jughead, reggie | edit | @gabsjellybean

Apollo and Artemis | archie, cheryl | edit | @lilhemmo

etched in time | oc | edit | @srainebuggie

The Twins | oc | edit | @princesweetpea

Goddesses of Parentdale | penelope, alice, hermione | edit | @lilhemmo

I wanted her | bughead | edit | @lanadeljones

Archivus Andrews - Gladiator | archie | edit, fic | @sweetfogarty

You’re a Good Omen | bughead | fic | @typing123

Stone-Cold Guardian | betty | edit | @strangenightsofdaydreams

ancient roommate | jughead | edit, fic | @strangenightsofdaydreams

Li Shang | sweet pea | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Life Goes On | sweet pea x oc | edit | @sweetsserpent

Llamas Festival | sweet pea x oc | edit, fic | @sweetsserpent

Once upon a time... | bughead | edit, fic | @milkshakesandmurders

choke me to the bone | sweet pea x oc | edit | @rivendell101

Unintended Empress | oc | edit | @elizabethbettscooper

I want to believe | bughead | edit, fic | @elizabethbettscooper

Eye of the Beholder | bughead | edit, fic | @lovedinapastlife

Run, You Clever Boy | bughead | edit, fic | @lanadeljones

Betty Cooper, I- | bughead | edit | @lonely-full-of-secrets

Into Pandora | oc | edit | @bugheadsjetty

I Love You. I Know. | oc | edit | @shrugheadjonesthethird

feast of fantasy | oc | edit | @sweetpea-cc

magic and mayhem | oc | edit | @shrugheadjonesthethird

maybe we can hold off fic rec | bughead | edit | @bettsc

And now my watch begins | jughead | edit | @elizabethjonesiii

damsels not in distress | oc | edit | @srainebuggie

All the Right Moves fic rec | bughead | gif | @theheavycrown

there will be history between us | bughead | edit, fic | @lilibug--xx

nothing will stand in my way | sweet pea | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Discovery of Witches | bughead | edit, fic | @aam-loves

The Little Mermaid | bughead | edit | @lanadeljones

Abuelita’s Enigmatic Elixir I | bughead | edit | @likemereckless

Abuelita’s Enigmatic Elixir II | bughead | fic | @likemereckless

The Second Coming | | bughead | edit, fic | @lovedinapastlife

The Second Coming II | bughead | edit | @lovedinapastlife

Betty in Eldervair | bughead | edit, fic | @bettysnooper

Fire and Blood | cheryl | edit | @elizabethjonesiii

All of it (waiting for a bus in the rain) | bughead | edit, fic | @lilibetts

Chosen Ones | bughead | fic | @artemonofraven

We’re all mad here | oc | edit | @themaddestofall

(out of the shadows) into the light | bughead | fic | @catthecoder

nuclear | bughead | edit, fic | @literatiruinedme

Catwoman | veronica | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

007 | reggie | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Robin Hood | sweet pea | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Nancy Drew | betty | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Jughead Jones and the Lost Medallions | bughead | edit | @pennyroads

As Long As We Don’t Die, This’ll Be One Hell of a Story | bughead | edit, fic | @lanadeljones

Spider-Gwen | betty | edit | @lonely-full-of-secrets

But not today | oc | edit | @bugheadsjetty

it’s the mileage | oc | edit | @shrugheadjonesthethird

adventure squad | oc | edit | @sweetpea-cc

coffees, adventures, and second chances | bughead | edit | @milkshakesandmurders

nuclear | bughead | edit, fic | @literatiruinedme

Heist | jughead, sweet pea | edit, fic | @rivendell101

Mr & Mrs Smith | varchie | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

The Black Widow | cheryl | edit | @lonely-full-of-secrets

I invented red. I am red. | cheryl | edit | @lonely-full-of-secrets

We’re family. | oc | edit| @elizabethbettscooper

I Love You Most | barchie | fic | @parkers-jones

The Harvest | edgar | fic | @orangenfrottee

blood of the blonde | betty, veronica | edit | @milkshakesandmurders

the worst pies in london | oc | edit | @bugheadsjetty

dare to scare | oc | edit | @cherry-and-maple-trees

Human Monsters | oc | edit | @sweetpea-cc

FP’s Coming For You | fp | edit | @shrugheadjonesthethird

Natural Born Killers | bughead | edit | @lanadeljones

i’m not gonna hurt you | bughead | edit | @the-gargoyle-queen

I’m Afraid to Close My Eyes | gladys | edit | @the-gargoyle-queen

Handbook for the Recently Deceased | bughead | edit, fic | @bettysnooper

The Evil Within | bughead | edit | @themaddestofall

Forsythe Scissorhands | bughead | edit, fic | @theheavycrown

Panic! At the Disco | bughead | edit, fic | @lanadeljones

July 1969 | bugvee | edit, fic | @secretsofthesky

Thornhill Manor Mysteries | oc | edit | @elizabethbettscooper

a certain kind of love | oc | edit | @elizabethbettscooper

nothing wrong with getting a good headstart | fredsythe, fremione, halice, mckellar, fremary, gladsythe | edit, fic | @halcooper

Candy Girls | joval | edit | @elizabethbettscooper

in bed with the mob | varchie | edit, fic | @worriestothewind

lawless land | bughead | edit, fic | @worriestothewind

1980s Choni | choni | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

America needed them | fangs, fp, joaquin, jughead, sweet pea | edit, fic | @worriestothewind

A little party never killed nobody | oc | edit | @bugheadsjetty

Can we get on with this? | oc | edit | @shrugheadjonesthethird

it’s all happening | oc | edit | @sweetpea-cc

Riverdale City, 1932 | bughead | edit, fic | @theheavycrown

Hot Dog, you ol’ rascal! | bughead | edit | @bettsc

Friends With Benefits | bughead | edit | @my-broken-bones-are-mending90

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days | bughead | edit | @my-broken-bones-are-mending90

Oh, sweet sixteen | bughead | edit, fic | @milkshakesandmurders

Dirty Dancing | bughead | edit | @my-broken-bones-are-mending90

Drift Compatible | reggie, sweet pea | edit, fic | @rivendell101

Bughead How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days | bughead | edit, fic | @bettycooperthefirst

He’s Just Not That Into You | bughead | edit | @themaddestofall

Sherlock Holmes | jughead | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Who calls the shots? | sweet pea x oc | edit, fanfic | @worriestothewind

Atomic Betty | betty | edit | @princesweetpea

Breakfast at Tiffany’s | bughead | edit | @my-broken-bones-are-mending90

Bughead at Tiffany’s | bughead | edit | @lanadeljones

13 Going on 30 | betty | edit | @my-broken-bones-are-mending90

Peaky Blinders | fangs, joaquin, jughead, sweet pea | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

hold me tight and think of home | bughead | edit | @rivendell101

Marie Antoinette | betty | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

She’s the One | fredsythe | fic | @fredheads

society | bughead | edit, fic | @literatiruinedme

Coyote Ugly | betty, cheryl, josie, melody, toni, veronica | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Lady and the Tramp | bughead | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

The Replacements | chuck, kevin, moose, reggie | edit, fic | @worriestothewind

Baby Driver | bughead | edit | @bitchiloveher

Leap Year | bughead | fic, gif | @jughead-jones

west side story | varchie | edit | @bitchiloveher

Top Gun | bughead | edit | @themaddestofall

Betty the Vampire Slayer | bughead | edit, fic | @orangenfrottee

Bughead Noir | bughead | edit | @sweetpeasbabydoll

Who’s a Chicken Now? | bughead | edit, fic | @sunshinebunnie

the woman and the illusion | bughead | edit, fic | @paperlesscrown

#riverdaleedit #riverdale #bughead #southside serpents #bughead fanfiction #fyeahriverdaleocs #riverdale x oc #parentdale #riverdale fanfiction #campriverdale #riverdaleevents #*admin #masterlist

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aevus-blogging · 5 years

Note

The Crew is faced with a dead-end alley between two very tall buildings (think Urban Fantasy AU) Michael *climbs up with his claws* Ryan *Teleports* Gavin *spreads his golden wings and flys* Jeremy *Parkours up* Geoff *Who has no special abilities*: ... I'm just gonna take the stairs. -😺

Dear Sir Cat Anon, I don’t know what exactly you expected upon sending this, but I present you an urban fantasy au oneshot. I went perhaps a bit outside what you gave me, but I got an idea and went with it.

———————

It was supposed to be an easy in and out. The apothecary was a front for a necromancy ring, and gods the balance was too wrong to let it go. All they had to do was get in, destroy the nomicon and get out. It should have been easy. They had forgotten to factor in the modern eras own personal wonder, the automatic alarm system.

Ryan had easily gotten in, the spectre of death simply teleporting in. Unfortunately he hadn’t thought to check the shop for an alarm system when he went to let the other two in. As soon as he had opened the door the alarm went off, causing the Werebear and the Chimera to stiffen.

“Oh great.” Gavin huffed, wings angrily flapping behind him as he fiddled with his golden choker.

“Don’t give me that. Trash the store while I search.” Ryan snapped at the chimera. As a Soul Reaper Ryan had a much stronger connection to death than the others, the nomicon should theoretically sing with Death energy. Gavin rolled his eyes, clicking and hissing in an ancient tongue that even if Ryan heard would have flown over his head.

“Gavvers let the scary death dude do his job. Ours is to make this seem like an act of vandalism.” Michael gruffed out, already tearing down a bookshelf. Gavin winced at the crash and shattering of glass as the shelf of crystal balls met the floor. Gavin honestly didn’t know why he was chosen to trash the store instead of stand look out. He was much better with a scope than Jeremy. But Gavin complied, taking a rock and throwing it at the window from the outside for that extra touch of realism. So far no sirens, then again this was Los Santos, the cops probably had three other robberies to deal with as well right now. Gavin was about to ask what was taking Ryan so long when he heard a scream of pain from the reaper.

“Ryan!” Gavin called out, rushing through the ruined shop to get to his crew mate and friend.

“Stay back!” Ryan growled out, in the back of the shop. Did Gavin or Michael listen? No. The two burst into the back, seeing Ryan trapped in a very ornate sigil. Michael was immediately reeling back, a snarl on his throat. Gavin could feel the energy radiating from the sigil, could feel out sucking at his energy like a black hole.

“Trapping Sigil. Designed to kill and leech a magical entity of its energy.” Ryan grit out, cracks showing on his skin. “Fail safe on their nomicon, only activated when i destroyed it.”

“Geoff we-“ Michael shot into the comms before being stopped by Ryan.

“He won’t make it in time. You two go.”

“We can’t. I won’t.” Gavin growled out, wings flaring. The sigil was well made, but Gavin could destroy it.

“You don’t understand, this is arcane magic Gavin!” Ryan shouted, Gavin only looked at Ryan, eye glowing gold, same with the choker he always wore.

“I know Soul Reaper.” Gavin said, voice echoing as if spoken by ten of him at once. For the first time in a millenia Gavin was letting his true power leak through the facade he kept up. The ‘Chimera’ reached out, touching and shattering the sigil containing Ryan. The Reaper fell to his knees as he was freed while Michael could only watch in awe.

“Ryan, can you walk?” Gavin asked, glow subsiding as he returned to ‘normal’.

“Yes I can Seraphim.” Ryan said, causing Gavin to flinch a bit.

“Dickheads, we need to go now!” Geoff yelled into the comms. Ryan gave Gavin a look as he stood up.

“Right, we destroyed the book, we’re heading out.” Ryan said. Gavin knew Ryan had questions for him, that Michael would as well. Once everyone was safe Gavin knew he’d have to spill. But for now, escape. Gavin could hear sirens approaching and followed Ryan out. The trio booked it out of the vandalised apothecary and to the meeting place were Geoff and Jeremy were waiting.

“Jack’s got a car for us near the Theatre and Scalp intersection.” The witch told them, taking in the trio’s appearance and frowning.

“What happened?”

“We’ll explain when we get home Geoff.” Gavin said. Now was not the time to reveal to the world who he was. Gods knew what would happen. Geoff looked like he wanted to argue, but with the sound of sirens drawing closer he knew better than to argue.

“Fine. We only have a few blocks to go.” Geoff said before a cop car pulled out onto their street, headlights illuminating them.

“Run!” Jeremy shouted, turning around and just racing down the street. The others rushed to follow the son of Hermes as the police car revved after them. The quintet was practically herded into an alley by the cop, police car parked so that none of the five could run out without running into the other cop, blocking them in.

“Freeze! Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees!” The coo shouted, aiming his gun at them. The crew exchanged a quick glance before Ryan shrugged and just vanished, teleporting to the roof tops.

“No thanks Mate!” Gavin called out to the man, spreading his wings and launching up. The man looked frantic as he tried aiming at the winged man with shaky hands. Next to go was Michael, partially shifting so that he could use his massive claws to dig into the wall to climb it. Once Michael was about halfway up Jeremy gave the cop a two fingered salute before running at the wall, using his parkour skills and the crevices Michael had made to climb up after the werebear.

“I’m always the one stuck on the ground.” Geoff muttered as the cop trained his gun back on the witch.

“On your knees!” The cop shouted, trembling as he advanced on Geoff. Geoff just glared at the man, muttering a sleeping spell and flicking it at the cop. Down he went, gun clattering to the cold asphalt. Geoff shoved his hands in his pockets as he climbed the fire escape, muttering the whole time.

The group was waiting for him at the top of the building. Geoff gave each of them a glare, slightly bitter none had stayed to help. Ryan huffed and raised his hands and shook his head.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m running on empty.” The Reaper said.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just get to Jack.” Geoff huffed out. The group followed his lead along the rooftops, ignoring the fading sound of sirens as they reached the meeting place. Just below them a midnight blue suv was waiting for them. One by one they descended, Gavin carrying Geoff this time. In no time the suv was packed full and their Selkie driver was looking over at all of them.

“Fun night boys?” They asked, a small smile on their face.

“The most Jack.” Geoff huffed out. Jack just laughed and started the drive back home.

“You three have some explaining to do.” Geoff said, looking at Gavin, Michael, and Ryan.

#aevus speaks #aevus answers #aevus writes #😺 anon #urban fantasy au #fake ah crew #Of Fakes And Myths #’chimera’ gavin #but acutally no #seraphim gavin #he hides as a chimera for reason unknown at this time #Soul Reaper Ryan #Werebear Michael #Demigod of Hermes Jeremy #Selkie Jack #Nonbinary Jack #Witch Geoff #no proofreading we die like men

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amethystunarmed · 6 years

Text

‘Til Someone Gets Hurt

Fandom: Red Vs. Blue

Relationships: Minor Tuckington

Word Count: 1335

AO3 Link

Summary: It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.Tucker decides to have a talk with Church about their plan and why he's suddenly become such a dick. Church is more concerned about why Tucker is spending so much time with their enemy's brother. It gets ugly. Part of a larger Mean Girls AU

Warnings: Bullying, Homophobia, Church is a Bad Friend

Inspired by this song and the fight between Church and Tucker in the Chorus arc after he and Carolina come back. Thanks for @kittythelitter for being my beta and soundboard!

Church could tell from the moment he walked out of the building that Tucker was in a pissy mood. It wasn’t hard to tell, not when you spent most of your afternoons over at his house, discussing his worst enemy. He was perched on top one of those light posts that always seem to be just outside schools, just tall enough to stop students from driving on the sidewalk. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips stuck out in what he swore wasn’t a pout, and he tended to be alone, without his typical shadows. Donut and Caboose were nowhere in sight. Even the Reds seemed to be keeping their distance, rather than trying to get him to join the mathletes again. Must be one hell of a mood then.

“Hey Tuck, looking fetch today.”

“Holy fuck,” Tucker’s stance shifted back, as if with one sentence, Church had made himself a threat, “you really are in deep huh? You’ve gone full Freelancer!”

“What the fuck? It’s just a phrase man. I’m around them a lot now. For our revenge, BTdubbs.”

“Our? So there still is an ‘our’ then? That’s why we were invited to your party, right?” Church decided not to respond, instead choosing to study the curb. Tucker huffed, his ponytail bouncing with every infuriated head tilt. Church was used to Tucker’s ire, but never before had it been directed at him. The sight froze him at his core, like looking away from Tucker would give him a chance to strike. He was like a damn deer in headlights. So they were locked in a moment, Tucker in his fury and Church in his wariness. Then Tucker sighed and looked away, and the moment snapped. “Look, I was talking with Wash about all this and I think-”

“You’ve been hanging out with Wash? But he’s Carolina’s brother! He’s practically the Prince of the Freelancers!” Church shouted.

“Oh ho ho, like you’re one to talk,” Tucker growled, jumping off the post and glaring up at him.

“What are you talking about?” Church honestly didn’t understand what he meant.

“You missed Caboose’s robotics competition. Freckles kicked ass, in case you were wondering. Caboose noticed you weren’t there, but don’t worry. He knew his best friend was busy with his mission. How many shots do you think you’d downed by that point?”

“Oh, I-“

“The reds are in the finals for the math competition, despite you ditching them.”

“I was busy with your-“

“Donut and Doc finally got together. It’s super cute. They’re raising vegetables as their children. Lopez is the scarecrow.”

“Really? How did... how did-“

“How did you miss all of this?” Tucker finished, clearly done dancing around the subject, “Cuz you haven’t even bothered to check in with us. Goddammit my fucking crush made out with me last night and I couldn’t even tell my ‘best friend’ for fear you’d out him to his self-righteous sister and homophobic bitch of a dad!” Church gasped and Tucker froze. He clearly regretted saying anything about it. But Church put it together. Tucker and Wash were together. Like... Together, together. He doesn’t trust me, Church thought, and it hurt more than he thought it would. He needed to say something, anything, to try and turn this around. But Tucker shook his head and the rage was back on his face, and Church knew the opportunity was gone.

“Goddammit Church! You don’t even realize you don’t have friends anymore, that you left us all behind, left me behind!”

“Jesus Christ, chill out Tucker! It’s like you’re in love with me or something!” Church could see the moment Tucker understood the words, recognized them from when that kid Cronchbite had yelled them at him in 8th grade at Carolina’s behest. Church could see it, because it was the same moment he regretted the words even coming out of his mouth. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. “Is David not enough?” He said instead, trying to bring the argument back to what was really important. However, he didn’t expect Tucker to laugh, cackling in a hoarse way that Church had never heard before. He was laughing so hard, he couldn’t get enough air. That had to be the reason tears were welling up in his eyes, why his breaths were ragged and shaky. That had to be it.

“See, that’s the thing with you freelancers,” Tucker began as he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie (it was a grey and yellow one Church was sure he recognized), “You think everybody is in love with you, when, really, they just hate you.”

“That’s not fair!” Church protested, “You made me this way! So I could fulfill your revenge fantasy by pretending to be a Freelancer!” Tucker gave another off kilter laugh.

“Buddy it’s not pretend! You’re full on inducted into that cult, and you don’t even realize it. I may hate Carolina’s guts, but at least she has the guts to pick a side! To realize she’s on a side! Did you even think about us when you threw that party? Did inviting us even cross your mind? No, ‘cuz all you do is think like a Freelancer. And a Freelancer wouldn’t invite Blood Gulch High’s number one undesirable despite how long you pretended to be my friend!” Tucker screamed, and the tears that had been brimming in his eyes finally fell down his cheeks. Church took a step back, unsure of what to say.

“Tucker-”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s really fine,” he replied, angrily scrubbing the tears from his face. He waved his left hand over his shoulder, and there was a rumble as the Reds’ ancient monstrosity of a jeep rumbled to life. Church could spot Donut at the wheel, absolutely fuming. Caboose was in the front seat, confused by what was happening. A shadowy figure he couldn’t make out sat in the back. “Go ahead and keep pretending,” Tucker continued, “Pretend that Tex has any interest in you and that you’re fucking with Carolina for reasons other than being in power and that you aren’t a ice cold prick of a human being.”

Donut pulled up to the curb. The back door of the Jeep opened and David Washington looked at Church like he was about to imbed a knife in his chest. It felt like he already had. David was sitting in Church’s seat. The car was already full. Tucker stumbled into the jeep with as much dignity as he could muster, allowing David to wrap his arms around him. David whispered something in Tucker’s ear, and Church could see Tucker relax at whatever it was. He took another shaking breath and took a piece of paper from the seat pocket in front of him.

“And here!” He yelled, chucking the paper at Church, “Junior made me promise to give this to you, and I, for one, don’t break the promises I’ve made. Hope you treasure it, ‘cuz it’s the last thing of his you’re gonna get. And he won a prize for it, so there’s that.” Tucker flopped down, as though now that the argument end, someone had cut the strings holding him up. Caboose reached into the back to grab his hand. He didn’t even look in Church’s direction.

“Wait!” He cried, trying to get them to stop, to let him explain, but Donut gunned it, drowning out anyway thing he could say. He only slowed to look out the front window and shout, “And I want my lightish-red shirt back!”

And they were gone.

Church leaned down to pick up the crumpled artwork on the ground. He unraveled it and couldn’t help the small gasp at the image that greeted him. It was crude, barely a step above stick figures, but Church recognized the blue and red figures etched on the page. At the top, in a barely legible crayon scrawl, were the words MY FAMILY.

Church stood there and looked at that picture for awhile.

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moodring89 · 7 years

Text

CH.01 Down the Rabbit Hole

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader / Side Yoonseok Chapter Rated: PG-13 (Future rating will change to M) Genre: Fantasy, Hybrid AU (Prince Bunkook. Sue me.), Royal AU, Cinderella / Labyrinth feels Summary: Yoongi's sister buys two tickets to the Autumn ball held at the Meadows, a notorious city known for its hybrid inhabitants, where she hopes to meet a certain bunny princeling. Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04

“I’m sorry, what –?”

Yoongi held up a piece of mail, “Autumn Ball to be held at the Meadows in celebration of Prince Jeon Jeongguk’s Coming of Age?” The envelope was ripped at the top from where he’d opened it, being all sorts of casual about incriminating himself. “There’s no way in hell that our father is going to allow you to attend. You know this and yet you spent money on a ticket.”

“On two tickets,” she said, as she snatched the envelope from his fingers. “And why not?”

He didn’t know how to not sound like a prejudiced asshole, but he went for it anyway. “Because there are hybrids living in the Meadows and there’s still a ton o’ shit that we don’t know about them yet.”

“This is the first social gathering where hybrids and humans will be allowed to mingle and co-exist with one another, and like, in a party setting, which is just a bonus. It’s fascinating. No – it’s historic and you can bet your uptight, manhwa loving ass that I’d love to be there.” The blonde lowered his eyes at her, pouting resolutely when she continued, “I spoke with our father and you know what he said? ‘Get one for your brother, too.’”

He sighed, passively, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I was just rather hoping he’d do that thing where he beats on his chest and roars his short response of ‘fuck’ and ‘no’ from atop the highest mountain.”

She patted his shoulder with mock sincerity, “There, there, take the loss as it comes, swiftly and sweetly. Do you even own a proper suit and tie?”

“I have about as many suits as you do ball gowns.”

“So, zero then? ‘Kay, sounds good. We’re real ahead of this thing.”

Yoongi grabbed for his car keys, wanting to get it over with. “Let’s hit the stores now, before I decide to go in my pajamas. You know that I would, too.” When it comes to his sister, Yoongi tended to cave in, perhaps too easily. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, and most of the time – even things she could do living without, but he decided that she didn’t have to, like a new phone, or a bag.

They’d split up once they were inside the store, headed in two completely separate directions. She hadn’t expected half the town to be at this particular dress shop. Royal ball doesn’t exactly scream, ‘Let’s go to the local Mom-and-Pop boutique.’

The obnoxious text tone of Naruto’s catchphrase, ‘Believe it’ that she’d associated with Yoongi went off. She stared down at her phone.

Yoonji Unnie --------------------- It’s a fucking sausage fest here. 3:54pm

To: Yoonji Unnie --------------------- Funny, since it’s a clam-fam reunion over here, too. Any hopes of looking original have successfully gone out the window. 3:54pm

Yoonji Unnie --------------------- Unless we go with my pajama idea? 3:54pm

To: Yoonji Unnie --------------------- I’m not meeting the Prince of the Meadows in a camisole. 3:55pm

Yoonji Unnie --------------------- Gross. See you in the parking lot. 3:57pm

Yoongi was already inside the car, a plastic bag thrown carelessly into the backseat. She shut her door with a huff, somewhat affronted by it. “You were able to find a suit? I thought it was Wang city, far too many hand-to-gland casualities for you to possibly stay long enough to find something suitable.”

“Yeah, unlike you, I don’t care if I’m wearing the same shit as someone else, especially a fucking suit.” He started up the car and turned onto the main road, driving around idly, until they decided on their next stop. “Again, I would have gone in my striped pajamas without a single fuck to be spared. I like keeping my fucks to myself. However, something tells me that there is a dress code we have to adhere to...”

“Of course there is.”

Yoongi was scowling, as he tended to do so very naturally. “I would really hate to piss off the woodland creatures with our subpar fashion choices, so start calling out shops, and we’ll swing by to see if it’s packed.”

“Hybrids are people, not creatures,” she said, turning somewhat dejectedly to stare out the window. “Why do I have to remind you? You’re the intelligent one and yet you say the most asinine things.”

“What are you hoping to achieve by seeing the Prince? He will not favor you, as you do him.” It was such a sad anomaly, something that shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and it was too late. His sister had fallen in love through mere stories of the bunny princeling. What if the tales weren’t true? Don’t meet your heroes, wasn’t that the saying? The treaty between hybrids and humans had practically been forced, guns aimed at each other’s heads in a stalemate between two stubborn kings. It turned out that the two species needed to sustain each other, whether it was for the oil, the crops, or other various cargos: The union was not wanted, but it was necessary.

The thought that their father had even agreed to put them in some slight form of potential danger was preposterous to him. Although, it was possible that his darling sister was lying to him, right to his own fucking face. At least he could later credit himself for not being entirely blindsided by it. No one jukes Min Yoongi.

“I don’t even expect to be allowed to speak with the Prince, so what does it matter?” They were stopped at a light. For a long moment, the silence played with the tension, thus swallowing the siblings up whole. She sighed, finding it be unbearable, “I only wish to look upon him, to take glimpse of his true nature for myself, instead by word of mouth.”

“Alright, enough. You can stop with the poetic shit. I get it…” Yoongi felt frustrated, stopping in front of a shopping mall. It didn’t appear to be as busy as all the other stores they had passed along the way, probably due to an even lower standard in quality. He surrendered his card as a form of an apology, which she graciously accepted. “Don’t make it long.”

She’d made it especially fucking long.

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

The tickets were a simple white cotton paper with speckled gold and elegant cursive. She half-mourned over the fact that she’d have to hand it over at the castle gates in order to get in. The girl kept the envelope, tucking it away inside the top drawer of her vanity. Tonight she would finally get to meet the Prince. After hearing so many stories of his time on the battlefield, of the scar which adorned his face along his cheek, how he’d spared a human General’s life.

Prince Jeongguk was an advocate for equality, a symbol of peace, and hope. He’d visited the Isles of Lunar and fed the sun to the poor. He did not leave, until all were healthy, and full. She’d heard that he’d brought in environmental scientists to study the moon enriched lands and that they’d found ways to sustain and harvest crops. That was how he’d inherited the nickname, ‘Lunar Prince’.

There were no photographs allowed to be taken of the Prince. However, the news articles were free to state as many details as they so desired. She’d tried to envision what he would look like given the various descriptions, tall and broad it had read, only one or two inches away from standing at six foot tall. Two velveteen rabbit ears sat atop a silky crown of raven black hair, pure white in color, and responsive to the change in his mood. One columnist in particular went on and on about the Prince’s dark eyes, how large, and doe-like they had appeared, despite their depth, and warmth. She’d rather enjoyed that bit.

For tonight, she’d wanted to dress in tears of silk and netted fabrics. The Meadows was said to be the pinnacle of nature itself, the homeland of the fae, and hybrid kind. Magic would exist in her world for only one night, but that was already more than what she could ever hope for. Her dress was a warm pigment of peach and was scattered with blossoms. Her hair was pinned up, save for a wavy strand here and there. Her skin would be devoid of any eye-catching jewelry and her makeup would be natural.

She would not pretend as though she belonged, because she didn’t. Yoongi stood in the doorway, wearing his suit more convincingly than she did her dress. Her brother should be more confident. Perhaps after tonight, he would be.

“I look ridiculous.”

She placed the tickets inside her clutch, “Oh, I’m very certain that we both look amazing. The word spiffy is still a thing and we are the definition.”

“Yeah, you should probably refrain from using that as a compliment.”

She laughed at his obvious discomfort, “I’ll be sure to use it at least three times tonight just to spite you.”

“Please do,” Yoongi said, twirling his keys in his hand impatiently. “Make sure to use it on your prince. He’ll then know for sure that you’re an ancient.”

“You wound me, brother.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, wondering if he’d ever stop rolling them for the duration of the evening. The Meadows was almost an hour by car. They made the most of it by listening to whatever music Yoongi decided to put on, rapping along to old CDs that she’d been forced to listen to time and time again, and for as long as she could remember. His voice was perfect for it, which was why she encouraged him to continue making music, even if their father disapproved of it.

He’d threatened Yoongi with a florist position. It could be done rather easily, since the shop was run by family. Luckily, their father was currently away on business and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. If he’d been home tonight, she had no idea as to what would have happened. A huge argument, wasted money, and a solitude evening listening to the muddled sounds of Yoongi’s piano.

The Meadows was no longer a guarded territory and for the first time ever, humans were being granted free passage. The new lands held such a dark enchantment, a beauty that was so drastically different from what they’ve ever known that they’d spent the rest of the drive in a state of silent enrapt. They followed the cars in front of them to the castle, which was at the heart of the city. It was a citadel surrounded by forest and closed in by tall gates. Parking was easy enough, as Yoongi handed over his keys to the valet.

“You good? Do you need me to piggyback you?” Yoongi asked, watching as his sister hesitated, stumbling more so than walking. It was a sign that her nerves were getting the best of her. “We didn’t come all this way, dressed up like assholes for nothing, princess. Remember why you wanted to come here. To partake in a historic event, wasn’t it?” It seemed to be working, when he heard her laugh. “Plus, I’m all famished and in dire need of eating sweets off of doilies, or whatever the fuck they serve royals. Let’s at least get some food in our systems.”

She caught his arm, holding onto him for her own stability, “What if I lose my mind in there?”

“Then I’ll find it for you.”

Would it really be that simple?

#noonanet #jeongguk x reader #bts fics #jungkook x reader #hybrid au #fantasy au #modern royalty au #yoonseok

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feynavaley · 7 years

Text

Hetalia Fanfiction – Arthur Kirkland’s Guide to Being a Big Brother Ch 2

Summary: (Human AU) After ten years of living as the youngest of four children, Arthur Kirkland is firmly convinced that older brothers are useless at best, a nuisance at worst. The introduction of six-year-old Alfred into his life is the first of many changes that force Arthur to reconsider his position.

The full chapter is under the cut, use your phone browser if you can’t see it from the app. I hope you’ll enjoy it!

AO3 | FFN | Previous | Next | List

———

Alfred, Part Two

Saying that Arthur’s transition to America went completely smoothly would have been wrong. Very wrong. Everything was too big and too loud, disconcerting, sometimes he couldn't understand the words behind that heavy accent, people were brash to the point of rudeness, the other children too rowdy for Arthur’s liking… many times, the boy found himself with anger scratching at his insides, the wish to spew poisonous words out of his mouth. Maybe he even let his tongue run loose, a couple of times, but he was perfectly justified: he didn’t want to stay there. He wanted to go back to England – to go back home, where everything still made sense. He wanted his old bedroom, the rainy days, and old cobblestone streets. Arthur would have wanted to say that he saw no point in moving to America, that nothing was better and they should go home – but that wouldn’t have been true.

For his mother was smiling again.

It had been a subtle change at first – the creases that had constantly adorned her face smoothening down, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips more and more often, but, not even a month in, the change was undeniable: his mother’s eyes were sparkling, her laughter easier than Arthur had ever heard it, even her steps seemed somehow lighter, as if somebody had taken a weight off her shoulders.

And if his mother was better… well, Arthur could deal with it, too. It didn’t come without any drawback or tantrum, but slowly, Arthur started adjusting to his new living situation.

One day, trucks arrived at the empty house next to their one, unloading furniture and boxes under the direction of a middle-aged, energic man with tanned skin, curly brown hair, and an odd musical accent. Arthur, who had been reading in the garden, kept looking at the scene until his eyes were caught by a pair of hazel ones, belonging to a skinny boy with tanned skin and sleek dark brown hair that had been staring at Arthur, half-hidden by the hedge. Caught red-handed, the boy started swearing in the most scurrile mixture of English and another language that Arthur had ever heard. Unintimidated, Arthur answered with the finest insults he had learned from Alistair, and that was how Arthur Kirkland and Lovino Vargas ended up cleaning the attic together as a punishment, while Aila and Massimo Vargas, the man from earlier who had turned out to be Lovino’s impossibly young grandfather, chatted amiably in front of a cup of ‘real Italian coffee’ along with Felicia, Lovino’s younger sister.

During the following days, Lovino and Arthur bonder over a shared passion for fantasy and adventure books, a general dislike towards Americans (Lovino was almost as much of an outsider as Arthur, having moved from Italy only the previous year) and a deep envy for Felicia’s artistic skills. (Now, Arthur had never been a good artist, and he was aware of that. But that was… simply ridiculous. That child was seven, for God’s sake… and in spite of that, she could draw better than most adults Arthur had ever seen.) Their friendship was cemented by the fact Arthur loved spending time at the Vargas’s place, it was filled to the brink with books and paintings – Massimo Vargas, as Arthur found out later, was a Latin university professor as well as a talented painter.

Spending so much time with Lovino, Arthur also came to the realization that, for how much his new friend complained about his ‘dumb sister’, he seemed to be actually quite fond of her and often looked after her, even if complaining the entire time. It was completely different from the way Arthur was treated by his brothers, but that was probably normal: Felicia was a girl, after all.

Sometimes, looking at them, Arthur found himself wondering about Alfred, that bright-eyed child who had been so ready to defend him from an unknown man and seemed to believe firmly in brotherly bonds, but it wasn’t more than a fleeting thought. Until the day his mother announced that he was going to stay at the Vargas’s for dinner because she was going out.

That was a first.

Arthur raised his head from the book he was reading, looking more closely at Aila. There was something... Odd about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Arthur realized what was amiss only when his mother knelt down to give him a hug, and his nostrils were hit by a nauseatingly sweet scent.

"Ew... Mum, did you put on perfume?"

It wasn’t only that. Arthur realized a moment later that his mother's lips were darker than usual, shiny jewels dangled from her ears and adorned her neck and wrists, and she was wearing a nice blue dress that hugged her slim frame.

Aila chuckled.

"I'm going out for dinner, love. I should be nice for once, shouldn't I?"

Well, that did make sense... somehow. Arthur still had the impression that his mother was a bit... Overdoing it, he was quite sure he had never seen her dressed that way before, but after all, he knew nearly nothing of elegant dresses and make-up and all that girlish stuff.

"Oh, okay. Who are you going with?"

His mother hesitated a fraction of a second, but when she answered her voice was so smooth that Arthur thought he had just imagined it.

"George Jones. You remember him, don't you?"

Arthur nodded, satisfied with the answer. He didn't think anything of it, he was just glad that his mother had found a friend, and his opinion didn't change at Mr Vargas exaggerated sigh of "Alas, your mother has rejected my proposal and found a more promising party, Arthur. What am I going to do with this?", he merely giggled along with Felicia as Lovino scoffed, because Mr Vargas always pretended to flirt with Aila but he didn't mean anything by it.

His mother, however, kept meeting with George Jones.

No more than a week after the dinner, she told Arthur that they had both been invited to George's house. Arthur found himself quite excited at the news – the house of an archaeologist must be impressive, he couldn’t even imagine how many strange artefacts, maps and book he would see around, just like in the office.

From the outside, the house turned out to be nothing special, just a normal suburban house surrounded by a big garden. Yet, there was something a bit peculiar about that place; the garden looked more unkempt than its neighbouring ones, and Arthur was sure that he could see a wooden tree-house peeking out from a tree around the corner.

Mr Jones opened the door and greeted Arthur and Aila with a warm smile, but the boy barely registered his words, his eyes widening as they took in the treasure cave that stood behind Mr Jones’s shoulders. The hall was big and airy, and every corner was decorated with foreign objects – there were maps and pictures on the walls, wooden statues and decorated vases on shelves and pedestals… Arthur’s head was almost spinning, he didn’t quite know where to turn, there were too many things taking his attention.

He didn’t have the time to focus on anything. Before he could even think about greeting Mr Jones, a shrill exclamation of joy echoed through the hall, immediately followed by a small form that skidded to halt just in front of Arthur. Alfred was grinning from ear to ear, the excitement in his blue eyes so genuine that Arthur didn’t know how to react – but the feeling in his chest certainly wasn’t something unpleasant.

“Hello, Arthur! I’m glad you came!”

Alfred didn’t leave him any time to reply, or even greet Mr Jones properly.

“Come on, let’s go play!” he cried out, snatching Arthur’s hand to drag him inside the house.

Before Arthur had even fully understood what was happening, Alfred had already dragged him into a game where the two of them were cowboys looking for the remains of an ancient civilization. Which, according to Alfred, consisted in running through the corridors and waving a wooden gun to fight off imaginary enemies and zombies. It was exhausting, Arthur didn’t know how such a young child could have so much stamina, he soon found himself gasping for air as he tried to keep up with Alfred, jumping up and down the stairs.

He was almost ready to give up and beg for mercy when he found out that there was actually a very simple solution: he could easily take the lead of the plot as long as he let Alfred be ‘the Hero’, as the child loudly proclaimed himself. And so he did. Letting go of any inhibition, Arthur started threading a more and more complicated plot, he fixed the holes in Alfred’s childish game as the child blindly followed him in the story, the spark in eyes never fading as he faced off imaginary curses and tasks, saving Arthur from fictional enemies who had imprisoned him (at the top of the stairs, where he could calmly sit and catch his breath while Alfred jumped up and down, his gun discarded for a sword).

Completely engrossed in the game, Arthur forgot about everything else around him until George Jones calling the children startled both of them back to reality. Arthur hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

The dinner turned out to be pleasant as well, the atmosphere was relaxed and Mr Jones was a good entertainer, having travelled so much he was full of interesting stories to tell. When he and his mother finally took their leave, Arthur could barely believe that half a day had passed, it hadn’t felt more than a few hours.

“You were really good with Alfred,” Aila murmured as they got into the car, a small smile curling the corners of her lips.

Arthur shrugged.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind, it was fun, actually.”

As the words seeped through his lips, Arthur realized with a pang of surprise that they were completely true. Alfred was younger than him, so it wasn’t the same as playing with somebody his age, yet the child’s enthusiasm was contagious. It had been a while since Arthur had been so engrossed in the game that he had forgotten about everything else, and the way Alfred had followed his story was almost flattering.

“I like Alfred. And Mr Jones, too.”

His mother gave a small, odd exhale at that, as if she had been holding her breath.

“Well, this is good.”

After that afternoon, Arthur found himself spending more and more time in Alfred’s company. Mr Jones often invited him and Aila at his place, sometimes they even went out together – to get an ice-cream, have a walk in the woods, Mr Jones even accompanied them for a trip of an entire day to an amusement park, once. Arthur found out that, while playing with Alfred wasn’t the same as playing with Lovino, it could still be fun, and the way the child seemed to follow his words was flattering to say at least. Things went on that way for a while, until a warm day at the beginning of August, when Aila called Arthur in the kitchen.

“Sit down. I have to tell you something important, Arthur,” she stated.

In spite of the apparent calm in her voice, her hands were slightly trembling. She had to take a deep breath before going on.

“You… you certainly have realized that I have been spending a lot of time with George, lately. What do you think of him?”

“I like him,” Arthur answered easily, hoping to reassure his mother. “I really do. He’s interesting and fun and he knows so many stuff... and I like Alfred, too.”

His mother nodded, offering him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well… so do I. Arthur, do you… do you remember anything about your father?”

He shook his head, taken aback by the unexpected question.

Aila took another deep breath.

“Well, I loved him. I loved him with all my heart, and spending my entire life at his side would have been my greatest joy. But I wasn’t given the chance to. And… I will always love him. I can guarantee you this. But… he’s not here anymore, and I’ve had to move on.”

At that moment, all the pieces clicked into place. His eyes widening, Arthur was abruptly reminded of the words Alfred had uttered the first time they had met. It sounded crazy, and yet…

“Mum, are you going to marry Mr Jones?!” Arthur asked in a single breath, the words pouring out of his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying.

Aila paled, then she ran a hand through her hair.

“Well… yes, Arthur. I’m going to marry George. I know that this is a big change and it’s going to take some time to get used to it, but—”

Arthur interrupted her.

“Are you going to be happy, Mum?”

They both knew the answer. They had both seen the changes that had occurred after meeting George Jones. This time, Aila’s smile lit her entire face, her eyes were so bright that for a moment she reminded Arthur of the girl in the old pictures.

“Yes, Arthur. Yes, I am.”

And that was enough for Arthur.

But of course, things could never go smoothly for them. A couple of days later, his older brothers showed up together, their faces dark. They were careful not to discuss things in front of Arthur, but he still caught snippets of the whispered conversations.

“This is too early, you’ve barely known him for a couple of months,” Alistair would hiss. “I know that you’re worried for Arthur, but marrying another man won’t fix anything.”

“And what about Dad? Have you forgotten about him?”

“This is just… it doesn’t make sense, Mum. You’re rushing too much.”

Anger surged in Arthur’s chest each time he saw his mother’s smile grow more forced, the creases on her face deeper.

“Why are you so selfish?!” he yelled the first time he managed to corner his brothers while Aila wasn’t at home, “Why don’t you want her to be happy? She’s happier now!”

His brothers exchanged a tired glance, sighing in unison. Alistair shook his head, but Dylan was the one who talked in the end, crouching down to be at Arthur’s level.

“I understand why you think like this, Arthur,” he stated in a condescending voice, “But you’re still very young, and you don’t even remember Dad, so you cannot understand… but you see, this isn’t right. Mum is probably having a hard time, but… she was married to Dad. It’s not right of her to go and marry another man. It isn’t only because she’s known him for such a little time – which doesn’t help, either – it’s that by doing so, she’s breaking the promise she made to Dad, the votes they took together. Can’t you see how wrong this is?”

Anger clawed at Arthur’s insides. His brothers weren’t listening to him, dismissing him only because he was a child, even if he could clearly see what their blind eyes couldn’t grasp.

“But Dad isn’t here anymore! Mum doesn’t have to be miserable for her entire life. And if Dad really loved her, he would have wanted her to move on and be happy too!”

His brother merely looked at each other, shaking their heads. Arthur truly hated them, at that moment.

Luckily, there were people who understood. Mr Vargas had immediately offered Aila his congratulations and started suggesting places for the reception, while Felicia was already making flower crowns for the wedding.

Then, there was Alfred. The first time he had seen Arthur after the announcement he had jumped at his neck, his eyes sparkling with genuine joy.

“You’re going to be my big brother!” he had yelled.

And Arthur, his chest invaded by a sudden warmth, had realized that Alfred truly meant what he was saying. Alfred still didn’t know what having older brothers truly meant, but he looked so genuinely happy… it fell on Arthur not to shatter the illusion, now. One day Alfred was probably going to learn the truth, but it wasn’t going to be because of Arthur, he swore to himself. He was going to do his best to be a better older brother than his ones.

In spite of his older brothers' discontent, the day of the marriage finally came at the end of September, not long after the beginning of the school. The sunrays still carried some residual warmth from the Summer, basking the orchard and the small crowd gathered there in their golden glow.

It wasn’t a big reception, just some close friends had been invited. There were the Vargas, some friends of George from the university, Aunt Eileen and Uncle Samuel had come from Ireland with Patrick, and Arthur’s brothers were standing together in a line, tall and handsome in their suits. For how much they had complained previously, today they were smiling, not even they could completely ruin Aila’s day.

George Jones looked ten years younger than usual, dressed in an elegant dark blue suit that made his eyes shine and wearing a smile that never slipped from his face. He looked incredibly handsome, the poster-picture of the American man.

Arthur, however, had eyes only for his mother. His heart missed a beat when he saw her walking towards the pastor, so radiant that her joy seemed to inundate the entire audience.

Arthur couldn’t help but compare her to the old picture of the first wedding. Aila had been so young then, with her face clean and her straight red hair going down to her waist. She had been wearing an elaborated dress as white as the snow, with a light veil on her head.

Arthur’s mother was completely different now. Her hair had been cut to her chin, with only a blue hat on the top, and the dress was soberer, a simple elegant white dress that had some blue accents the same colour as her hat. There was no denying that she was older and much mature than the girl Arthur remembered from the pictures, yet her lime green eyes seemed to glow just as much as they had that day, so much time ago. Arthur felt blessed for having the opportunity of witnessing such an expression on his mother’s face, he had never thought he would actually be able to see it. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He was finally pulled out of his reverie by the warm touch of a small hand over his.

“Alfred?”

There was something wrong with his new brother, he realized with a sudden twist of his stomach. Alfred’s features were unnaturally sober, his eyes shadowed by emotions that Arthur couldn’t read.

“What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

Alfred shook his head.

“I’m not… sad,” he muttered, frowning in a way that was far too adult. “I’m glad that Dad is getting married to your Mom. But… I wish Mattie was here. Mama didn’t let him come.”

Arthur had to bite his tongue at that. ‘Of course she didn’t, that would have been inappropriate,’ he wanted to say. Nobody ever talked about ‘Mattie’ except for Alfred, all Arthur knew was that Alfred’s mother lived in Canada with him. Her new boyfriend, or possibly husband. A homewrecker. Arthur knew about them, this was how his mother had called Aunt Lillian when it had turned out she was blackmailing three rich married men, making each of them believe that he was Oliver’s father. From the way his mother had almost spit the word out of her tightly pressed lips, Arthur had understood that messing with married people was a Very Bad Thing. The reason Mattie (Matthew?) hadn’t been invited to the wedding was obvious, but Alfred seemed strangely fond of the man and genuinely crushed by his absence. Moreover, he was only six years old, too young to fully face the cruel reality.

Arthur had only a split of a second to make his decision.

“But you aren’t alone,” he declared boldly, taking Alfred's hands and squeezing it firmly. “I’m here with you.”

The way Alfred smiled after those words made something stir inside Arthur’s chest in a way he had never thought to be possible. He had never thought he could matter so much for somebody.

******

The days following the wedding were odd. Aila and Arthur moved to George’s house. It made sense, considering that they hadn’t even finished unpacking from their old house, but it meant that Arthur didn’t live next to Lovino anymore – which he found himself regretting quite a lot. Sure, they could have play-dates and Alfred would tag along while they were playing, but it wasn’t the same.

Having George around all the time was quite weird as well, but not in an unpleasant way. He wasn’t Mum – Arthur would probably never trust him as much as he trusted his mother – but he was another adult. Arthur had never truly realized how much easier everything was with two adults in the house instead of only one. Now it wasn’t only Aila who had to worry about the house, the bills, cleaning and cooking and all that grown-up stuff, George was there as well. Arthur could clearly see how much less exhausted his mother was, how she would have time to read him and Alfred stories before bed-time.

The change that unsettled Arthur more than anything else, actually, was Alfred himself. The first few days – the first week, even – had been fine. Alfred was overenthusiastic, constantly blabbering and jumping around and demanding Arthur’s attention, but he had chalked it to the excitement for the change and he had figured that it would simmer down with the time.

Except it didn’t.

Apparently, hyperactivity wasn’t Alfred’s reaction to something exciting, it was his default mode. And it was driving Arthur crazy. It wasn’t as if he had been used to a quiet house before moving to America, three older male brothers who constantly rowed tended to make their presence heard. Yet, being so much older, they wouldn’t constantly involve Arthur in their ruckus. If he wanted to, he would always find a quieter corner to relax and read a book. Suddenly, it wasn’t like that anymore. Alfred would start talking while they were having breakfast and Arthur was still half-asleep, go on during the way to school, continue as soon as he saw Arthur on the way back, he would run around, demanding to do the same, interrupt Arthur when he was reading to ask something about the book and then go on asking endless questions.

A couple of times, Arthur got dangerously close to snapping at him. He opened his mouth, ready to put his sharp tongue to use – and each time, his brain was invaded by the recollection of the day he had met Alfred. Of how he had tried to defend him without even knowing the situation, of the child’s bright, trusting eyes.

Arthur remembered also something else: he remembered all the times his brothers had rudely shoved him away when had he tried to play with them, how they would complain that he was disturbing. Each time, a weight dropped down his stomach as he realized that he would be no better than any of them if he didn’t show Alfred any kindness. So he bit back his snarky remarks and instead offered Alfred to read the book for him.

“I’m sorry, but you have to be patient with him. He’s so excited at the thought of having an older brother…” George would say, his lips barely curved in an apologetic half-smile, and Arthur would promise himself even more to take care of Alfred.

At one point, George probably told Alfred to let Arthur have some time for himself because Arthur found himself having some free hours every day, while the younger child played on his own or tried to draw.

Eventually, he started getting used to Alfred’s presence, and that was enough to start noticing the positive aspects again: how Alfred seemed to religiously listen to him when he told him stories, the genuine trust Arthur could see reflected in those incredible cornflower blue eyes. He could appreciate Alfred’s laughter, the way his positive attitude, adorable stubbornness, and outgoing demeanour seemed to light every room he was in.

When Alfred started learning how to read, Arthur was the one he went to ask for help, leaving him pleasantly surprised. Even greater was the surprise when Arthur realized that he didn’t actually mind helping Alfred: the way the younger boy listened to him, his forehead creased in concentration, was met by a strange sense of satisfaction. The day Alfred finally got it and started proudly reading every word he could see was the proudest day of Arthur’s life. He could feel warmth blossom inside his chest, couldn’t restrain the smile on his lips every time Alfred turned to him for confirmation of his progress.

Maybe that was what being a brother was like: not exactly a friend, something more like a mentor. Somebody who would be an example for the younger child, who could help him with those small tasks. Arthur decided that he liked that.

He didn’t fully realise how much Alfred had come to mean for him, however, until a day of November. Arthur’s class had been let out for recess, and he was calmly chatting with Lovino when his ears caught a couple of children of another class discussing among themselves.

“…Do you think we should call a teacher?” a dark-haired girl was saying, her eyes darting to a spot behind the corner.

One of the two boys who were with her shrugged.

“Nah. James’s a bully, it wouldn’t change anything… if anything, that kid would even get into more trouble for being a snitch. Seriously, leave it alone, he’ll learn not to mess with James.”

Arthur and Lovino exchanged a glance, identical frowns creasing their foreheads. Arthur saw a glimpse of fear in his friend’s eyes, and found it completely justified: James was a child in their grade and the classic example of a bully. Being born in October, he was already eleven and bigger than most of the other children, which he used to his advantage to terrorize them. Nobody dared to mess with him, and not calling the teachers was probably for the best – Arthur hadn’t been there when it had happened, but he knew that somebody had done so the previous year. After James’s suspension, the child had ‘tripped’ down the stairs and broken his arm.

The girl who had been talking earlier, however, seemed conflicted.

“I know,” Arthur heard her mutter as she chewed on her lower lip. “But… That kid’s so little… I think he’s a first-grader, and he looked so antagonistic that James isn’t going to let it go. I… I think he might really hurt him…”

Arthur’s blood ran cold in his veins, the breath was blocked in his lungs.

A first-grader… ever first-graders knew that they shouldn’t mess with James. But Arthur knew who would still do it if he thought James was doing something wrong…

Arthur hadn’t even realized that his feet had started moving. A moment later, he found himself in front of the girl and grabbed her shoulder.

“Where are they?!” he hissed, glowering.

“Hey, Arthur, calm down…” he heard Lovino say, but didn’t pay any heed to it.

“At… at the see-saw,” the girl answered shakily, her eyes wide. “What…”

But Arthur wasn’t listening to her anymore, he was already into motion, his stomach churning at the thought of what could be happening with every instant he was away.

“Call a bloody teacher!” he yelled at Lovino, not even bothering to look back as his feet carried him through the lawn.

The see-saw was just around the corner, no more than a minute away, but to Arthur, it felt like centuries as his heart thundered in his chest and his legs moved faster than they ever had, his mind couldn’t process any thought except for an all-consuming, blinding fear.

Every second he was away was another second something could happen. Another second James’s hands could leave bloody, dark marks on the unblemished skin, and Arthur couldn’t deal with it. He just couldn’t, his heart was threatening to explode in his chest.

Finally, Arthur arrived at his destination, a name on his lips even before he could assess the situation.

“Alfred!”

Everything seemed to freeze as Arthur skidded to a halt.

James – big, tall James, with his longish hair tied back in a tail that made him look like a thug, his beefy firsts ready to hit – slowly turned towards the noise, his eyes narrowing without managing to hide a glimpse of surprise.

But Arthur didn’t care about him.

At that moment, all he could think about was the small frame that was on the ground. Alfred – of course, of course it was Alfred, no other child would be so reckless to defy James, but Alfred had even tried to fight against an adult man, of course he would do that – looked paler than usual, his eyes wide.

“Arthur?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Arthur’s blood boiled with rage at the sound. Alfred’s voice shouldn’t be that small, he shouldn’t be afraid of anything – and he wasn’t, actually. Or at least, he was trying not to show it – that brave, foolish child – Arthur could see tears glistening at the corners of his eyes, but he was clearly trying to restrain them.

Arthur’s eyes immediately scanned over him. He didn’t seem badly hurt, but he was sitting down, holding his left knee. When Alfred’s hands shifted, Arthur caught a glimpse of red that they were covering. Blood. Alfred’s knee was skinned.

Later, Arthur wouldn’t be able to recall what exactly happened at that moment. It was like a switch had been flipped – all he knew was that nobody was allowed to Alfred. Nobody. The white-hot rage invaded Arthur’s mind, the blood pounded in his ears.

He didn’t think – there was no space left for thinking. Only the knowledge that James had hurt Alfred, a child five years younger than him. Arthur’s little brother.

With a roar, Arthur lunged at James, knocking him flat on the ground in spite of his considerably smaller form. Without leaving him a moment to recover, he started hitting any surface he could find – his chest, his face, his shoulders – anything. There was some yelling, but Arthur’s ears were ringing too much to make out any word.

James tried to defend himself, a first to his face send Arthur reeling, but he had suffered worse from his brothers. He ignored the flash of pain and only heightened his efforts.

Arthur didn’t move from his position until a pair of adult hands grabbed him, tearing him away from the bigger boy. Arthur struggled for a moment, yelling, before his ears registered the sound of Lovino’s voice.

“Arthur! Arthur, stop!”

Arthur went limp. For a moment he just stayed still, panting, the hands never relinquishing their hold on him as the world gradually came back to focus.

James was still on the ground, with a teacher Arthur knew only in passing holding him down by his shoulder as he murmured something. His face was a bloody mess, his already swelling eyes were fixed on Arthur. There was a glint of shocked fear in them.

“Arthur Kirkland. To the headmaster’s office, now.”

The voice belonged to Mr Graham, Arthur’s PE teacher – who was also the man holding him, Arthur realized suddenly. He couldn’t answer, his mouth felt dry, and he was gradually becoming aware that his hands were hurting, coated in a warm liquid. James’s blood. A distant corner of Arthur’s mind was aware that it was supposed to be a bad thing, and in spite of that, he didn’t feel like he had done anything wrong. He didn’t feel anything.

Arthur let himself be led away by the strong hands, too dazed to react.

“Alfred?” he asked uncertainly, looking quizzically at his teacher.

“He’s all right. You stopped James before he could hurt him,” answered Lovino, prompting Arthur to snap his head towards him.

Lovino was looking at him strangely, with his eyes wide, a mixture of fear and respect on his face. But, more importantly, behind him, Arthur could see Alfred. A young woman that Arthur recognized as his little brother’s English teacher was talking to him, pointing at his knee, and two other children had joined him, but Alfred was only looking at Arthur, his eyes wide.

“Alfred, are you all right?” Arthur called, twisting against his teacher’s grasp.

Only after Alfred’s small nod he relaxed, sagging. He still couldn’t process what had happened – but Alfred wasn’t hurt. That was the most important thing.

As it turned out later, Alfred had become James’s target when he had tried to stop him from mocking a Polish child who still couldn’t speak English properly and had made the mistake to make a flower crown, something apparently ‘too girlish’ according to James. Amused by Alfred’s attempt to resist him, James had let the verbal spat go on for a while, and by the time Arthur had arrived he had only pushed Alfred to the ground, without having enough time to do more damage.

Which made Arthur’s reaction inexcusable, apparently.

Now, he was enduring a stern lecture by the headmaster, while his mother nodded solemnly next to him. Her face was thunderous, Arthur’s stomach twisted at the thought of what he would have to pay once he got home – yet, it would be worth it. He was going to face it without complaining.

Or so he thought until the headmaster got to the last part of the punishment.

“And you will write an apology letter to James, explaining—”

“No.”

Arthur’s heart was racing, but his voice somehow sounded steely.

Both the headmaster and his mother gaped at him, their eyes wide with shock.

“I will not apologize,” Arthur spat out, straightening up to try and appear bigger. “I don’t regret it. He was going to hurt Alfred! I will never, ever forgive him for it!”

The two adults needed a couple of moments to let the words sink in, then hell broke loose. They scolded and threatened, but Arthur wasn’t going to budge.

In the end, he got sent to the corridor while his mother apologized and explained how it was a difficult period for Arthur, having just moved from another country and with her remarrying. That wasn’t the problem, but Arthur didn’t care – because finally, finally, he could see Alfred after the ordeal.

The child was standing at the end of the corridor, fidgeting on his feet as his teacher tried and failed to get his attention. He still looked pale, but a white bandage showed under the hole in his jeans. He had been taken care of.

Alfred’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Arthur.

“Artie!” he called as he ran towards him.

A moment later, Arthur was hit by a trembling mass. When the small arms snaked around him, he reciprocated the hug firmly.

“It’s all right,” he muttered into Alfred’s hair, “That bastard isn’t going to hurt you anymore, I promise. I’ll get him in a body cast if he even tries thinking about it.”

Arthur wasn’t actually sure that he could have accomplished such task – James was much bigger than him, he still didn’t know how he had managed to overpower him, but Alfred seemed to believe him because he nodded solemnly.

“That was scary,” he declared, “I had to defend Feliks because James was making fun of him, but I wasn’t strong enough… I wanted to be the Hero. But you were the Hero this time, Artie.”

Arthur found himself chuckling in front of Alfred’s innocence, the tension slowly wearing down.

“Well, let’s say I borrowed the title for a bit. Just to fight such a big villain… until you’re big enough to do it on your own, all right? For now, you can be a hero with smaller sized villains. I’ll deal with bigger ones.”

Alfred didn’t seem too convinced but he slowly nodded, his brow slightly furrowed, before smiling again, looking at Alfred with his bright, trusting eyes.

Arthur ended up being suspended for two weeks and grounded for an entire month, but it was completely worth it. He could understand now, that was another piece of being a big brother: protect his little brother until he could stand on his own. Once again, it was a task that he didn’t mind, because there was nothing more unpleasant than thinking about Alfred getting hurt. It wasn’t going to happen again on Arthur’s watch.

Aside from Arthur’s realization, nothing seemed to truly change between him and Alfred after the accident. They would play, Arthur would help Alfred with his homework, sometimes they would bicker, but Arthur was careful to be never as mean as his brothers had been, and he never scolded Alfred: his father did that, after all.

Everything continued being the same until a stormy night at the end of November.

Arthur liked that weather, he enjoyed being warm and cosy under the blankets as the fury of the elements raged outside, accompanied by occasional flashes followed by the loud grumbling of thunders. He was letting himself being lulled to sleep by the raindrops hitting his window when a faint screech announced his door opening.

“Artie?” asked a small voice.

“What’s up?” Arthur replied as he turned to look at his younger brother, yawning.

Under the moonlight, Alfred’s eyes looked wide and his pale skin had a silvery glint. He fidgeted at the door, seemingly unsure of how to answer, then a thunder made him yelp, his eyes widening even more as he looked around.

“Oh… are you afraid of the storm?” Arthur asked, sitting up on the bed.

Alfred nodded fervently.

“It sounds like monsters,” he muttered, taking a few steps into Arthur’s bedroom.

“Oh…”

Arthur frowned, trying to think of a way to placate the child’s fears, but Alfred acted before he could speak.

“Can I… Can I sleep with you?”

Caught by surprise by the question, Arthur needed a moment to answer.

“Uh… sure, why not?” he muttered just as another lighting illuminated the room.

With a small shriek, Arthur threw himself at Arthur’s bed and slid under the blankets. Arthur realized that the child was trembling.

“It’s all right,” he murmured, hugging him as he lay back down, nestled under the covers. “The storm is outside, it’s not going to hurt you here.”

He hadn’t expected his words to have any effect, but Alfred’s trembling slowly subsided as he clung to him. Bewildered, Arthur watched him slide into sleep in a matter of minutes, perfectly content.

“What the…” he muttered, looking quizzically at the small frame nestled in his arms.

He was sure that nothing he had said was so impactful… but then, it hit him. It wasn’t his words, but his mere presence. He was Alfred’s older brother, his protector, and that was enough to make him feel safe. A sudden warmth spread in Arthur’s chest, stealing his breath away.

Being so important for somebody… it was something that he had never experienced before. To have so much trust placed on him… it was almost inebriating.

That was what being an older brother meant, Arthur understood suddenly. It wasn’t only giving – protection, advice – but mostly receiving. Receiving so much trust and love that Arthur was almost drowning in that.

A wry smile crossed his lips as he shifted on the bed to settle in a more comfortable position, relishing on the feeling of the warm body tucked against him.

For the entire time, Arthur had thought Alfred to be a fool, but he was the only fool around. Alfred was right, of course. Big brothers – real big brothers – were supposed to be awesome, because that was the only way they could repay that immense trust that had been placed upon them. And Arthur realized that he didn’t mind the concept one bit.

(word count: 6,714)

———

Notes:

Felicia Vargas is Fem!Italy, Massimo is Rome. (I was very undecided between Massimo, from the Latin ‘Maximus’, which means ‘the greatest’, and Augusto, but I like Massimo more)

Patrick is Ireland, and he’s Arthur cousin, the same age as Connor (North Ireland)

The part about Lovino liking fantasy and adventure book is a reference to some recent strips, where he became very involved with chivalric literature.

The part about Arthur being shit at drawing is from the manga as well, I remember one strip during the industrial revolution where he couldn’t draw decorations to save his life.

English isn’t my first language, I apologize for the mistakes. Feel free to correct me if you spotted anything!

I want to thank everybody who liked the previous chapter, and special thanks to @headphonemaiden, @hetaliacreators, @not-a-spy, @ono-its-ryane and @tru-dat for reblogging it!

#hetalia #aph america #aph england #feyna's writing #hetalia fanfiction #akgtbabb #completed work #ace brothers human au #human au #family #fluff #no seriously this is so much fluff #almost nauseating #wc: 6k+

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