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levis-coffeecup · 1 year

Text

Chapter 18 | Stand Still

WC-4.0 k

Content/Warnings

canon- compliant, canon-typical violence, descriptions of PTSD, grief, depression, heavy angst and themes, strong language.

Author's note:

Hi everyone, this chapter is out now, because I had it ready and proof read in my drafts for so long. Chapter 19 will be out by Sunday night, most probably lol.

I've gotten a little lazy about posting songs to listen to while reading the chapter. (For this chapter in particular I don't even remember the song I wrote it to.)

But yeah do let me know if you're reading experience is incomplete without the songs (or if you don;t care about them.) Your feedback (of any sorts) always makes me be better.

Anyways I hope you like the chapter!

Chapters

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Masterlist | Playlist | Other Works

DEC 846

The temperature is getting colder, and the sun is drowning under the horizon. Another day is close to its end, and an exhausted sigh escapes Mae’s lips as she looks over at the orange sky.

Her eyes are shutting close with tiredness, and her back aches from the hard cot she has to sleep on. The air has gotten icy, and she wishes she could make herself a warm cup of soup and take a day off for once.

2 hours more, she tells herself.

2 more hours before she shuts the clinic and heads to the tavern.

The clinic she sits in is quite big. Beds are stacked, running along the wall. And three desks are placed in the center, with some significant space between them all. It’s where the doctors sit.

And usually, there’s one patient resting on the bed as well.

But none of Mae’s coworkers are here today. There’s no one on the bed. The clinic feels cold and she feels lonely. It’s one of those days where she really misses her parents.

And she hopes someone drops by to distract her from the pain, because she's tired of re-reading the same book again and again.

Luckily for her, knocks do resound on the wooden door. It swings open, and a lady limps inside, keeping all her weight on one foot as she drags the other forward.

She looks quite young. Probably in her mid-twenties. And Mae is quick to get distracted by the big bouquet of roses in her hand.

“Hi doctor.” She smiles warmly. And Mae gets up, helping her to the closest bed.

“Hi, how are you doing?” She takes the bouquet of flowers from the lady’s arm and places it on one of the center tables. And then she helps her take a seat on the bed.

“Thank you so much, doctor… My name is Ella, by the way. It’s my first time here.”

“Hi Ella, I’m Mae. Tell me what’s wrong? What happened to your leg?” Mae says, as puts her stethoscope around her neck.

“Oh! Silly me, slipped on some milk I dropped while cooking…, it's probably nothing. But, Joseph, my lover insists I need to get it checked,” Ella blushes. And then timidly she says, “he’s so over the top isn’t he?”

And Mae frowns, Ella’s words leaving bitterness in her stomach.

She puts the ends of the stethoscope in her ears. “We’ll check the basics first, your heartbeat, your blood pressure… close your eyes please… and take a deep breath.”

And Ella follows, closing her eyes, and taking in deep inhales.

Yet all that Mae’s eyes can focus on are the love bites splattered over Ella’s neck. She flaunts it in her sweetheart neckline dress.

Even her skin has this glow, that only loves sparks. Envy pricks Mae’s heart.

And she knows that Levi is busy as hell. She knows that he hardly finds time for himself, and she also knows that she isn’t dating an ordinary man who can make her his world.

She’s dating a man who has already dedicated his heart to humanity first.

But she’s still dating him. And once in a while, she does want to do all the lovey dovey things that couples do.

Once in a while, she’d like to feel like he actually cares for her a tad bit.

She focuses her attention on Ella’s feet, pressing her fingers into her sole, then her heel. Trying to figure out the problem area. “Does this hurt?”

“Not really.” Ella answers.

“How about this?”

“It feels alright.”

And then she ends up pressing her fingers way too hard. Ella winces, and Mae looks down, apologetic. Her pent up frustration bleeds into her professional life as well.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs in shame. Her fingers move upward, applying pressure on Ella’s ankle. She remembers to be gentler. And she knows she’s found the problem area, when Ella shifts in slight discomfort.

Mae jots a few words on her notepad, and brings back a concoction from the medicine cupboard. She works on Ella’s ankle, massaging it a little, and wrapping it up tight, in some gauze.

“It’s a sprain. I’ve applied some salve on it and wrapped it up, and here is your prescription.” she says, as she rips a page from her notebook. “ Be sure to clean up and re-apply the salve once everyday… I know walking is possible, but not recommended. And don’t put too much pressure on that foot obviously.”

“Thank you doctor.” Ella flashes a genuine smile.

And usually Mae keeps her patients company and talks to them until they leave. But she doesn’t want to talk to Ella.

She’s bubbling with the type of excitement that only new love brings. And Mae doesn’t want to hear any of it. So she politely nods and turns away, planning to sit in the farthest corner, with a medical book, to make herself look busy.

“Doctor, could you get me my roses please, I want them next to me” Ella calls out.

And Mae swivels, trying hard to swallow the miserable feeling in her heart.

Her walk towards the bouquet is rather slow and dreadful, and she can only wince, when she sees the take care, sweetheart note, hidden between the roses. “Must be good… to have such a wonderful relationship.” She says, half with desire, and half with bitterness.

“Yeah! It is…It’s just been 2 weeks, and I already feel like he’s the one.”

And Mae looks down at the other ground, the fabric of her dress, crunched between her fist.

There’s a sinking feeling in her heart, that she can’t escape.

It's been more than a month since her and Levi have started dating, and they haven’t hugged, they haven’t been out on a date. Heck! They haven’t held hands yet. The only thing that has been remotely romantic, is the pecks she leaves on his cheeks every now and then. And even that stays unreciprocated.

And she wonders if there is something wrong with her?

She doesn’t want Levi’s money. She doesn’t care about his title. Her happiness has always lied in the smallest of things. Like a single compliment from him, and just a feeble attempt to intertwine their hands together. But Levi doesn’t give her any of that.

He continues to be his usual blunt self, and it hurts. It hurts because she cares so much about everything he says.

It’s always her, who shows up to his office. It’s always her who has the urge to meet him. It’s always her, who wants to spend more time with him. It’s always her……Never him..

She even knitted a blanket for him so that he could stay warm in the coming winters. And all he did was say thanks, and not even look at her for the rest of the evening.

And her mouth runs dry, as she looks at the gleeful smile on Ella’s face. There’s a trivial urge to snap back at her. Bare her teeth. And wipe that wretched smile of her lips. Time ticks at a suffocating pace, and no one has ever been able to make Mae so agitated.

The absence of Levi’s love weighs heavy on her shoulders. And she wonders if she’ll ever get an ounce of the love she pours out?

Somehow she manages to hand the bouquet with human decency. But just as she’s turning around, Ella bothers her again.

“Also do you mind, if I wait here a little longer, Joseph is coming to pick me up. He dares, I don’t walk by myself.” she jokes off.

And Mae plasters the fakest of smiles on her lips. “Yeah of course.” she says, with an overbearing sweetness. “Take care, Ella… I hope you heal and never have to come to a hospital again.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

The bar is musty as usual.

And Levi sits at the worn out tables. Scrunching his nose at the putrid smell of alcohol.

It’s 8:00, Mae’s shift starts any moment now. And patiently, he sits, eyes trailed on the door that leads to the kitchen.

He has missed her. All the meetings, the training, the paperwork, it’s so monotonous. But meeting her, even though he meets her everyday is colorful. Filled with sparks and flying emotions.

It's the same person he’s seen for years before, his tutor, his first friend on the surface. And he doesn’t understand how his heart suddenly flutters at the sight of her, even when he’s so familiar with her face, with her voice, with her finger tips.

And once again his heart picks up its pace, as he sees her come out of the kitchen.

She does her job wonderfully well. Moving from table to table with grace, and engaging with the customers with a smile plastered on her face. Beautiful is too weak of a word to describe her.

But exhaustion lays heavy on her shoulders.

Levi can see it in the way she drags her legs, and in the dead look her eyes hold. He sees the way her collarbones pop, almost protruding.

When did you last eat, he wants to ask her.

He raises his hand up, wanting to see her closer.

Come sit next to me, make yourself at home. Let me take the weight off your shoulders

Deep down in his heart, he knows that he should leave her.

Erwin’s words still ring in his head. They have left him paralyzed, unable to feel nothing but guilt when he sees her.

He feels stupid for asking her to be with him.

And he knows, he’ll never be able to give her the kind of life she deserves.

He’s not good with love, he’s not good with emotions. He has nothing to provide for.

But it’s her.

And with her, he can’t help but be selfish.

He’s lost her once, losing her again will rip his heart to pieces and torment his brain. She's too dear to him.

And as much as he is proud of her. He hates to see her like this, working tirelessly, unhappily. It shames him to know that it’s him who landed her a job like this. That he’s the reason for all the troubles in her life.

Only if he had been more gentler, only if he hadn’t messed up, like he always does.

“Mae, you’re man’s asking for you.” Raz teases, and Mae looks over to see Levi sitting with his hand raised.

By now every single person in the bar knows his order. He’s been coming here for 4 months, everyday.

And she walks into the kitchen, and tells one of the chefs to make some black tea. The meet with her last patient still brews in her head. The bouquet of roses, the love bites, it's all fresh in her mind.

And Levi senses her displeasure as well. Reading her face has become something he’s proficient in. “You doing okay?” He asks quietly, as she places his tea in front of him.

She smells of medicine and healing herbs. And if he was courageous enough, he would place his hand over hers.

“I’m alright,” Mae bites back all her complaints. She’s quick to place his tea on the table and saunteer away from him. Finding the tenderness in his eyes suffocating, when she compares it to how harsh his actions seem.

The night passes as usual. Long and uneventful. Soon the crowd starts clearing out. Raz bids her farwell and Levi steps outside, waiting for Mae.

It’s late, and the streets stand empty, devoid of all people. It’s silent all around. And Mae joins him in silence as well. Not a word exchanged, not a smile on her face.

And in silence they move ahead.

Levi zips his coat higher as the still air makes his skin run cold. His breath fogs in the air and he licks his chapped lips as he treads forward, “You’re warm?” He asks Mae. More than willing to shed his coat off for her, so that she can have a comfortable walk home.

“I’m alright.” She says, even though her hands feel a little cold. Her gaze falls to his hand, a speck of desire floating in them. She wishes she could hold his hand along the way.

Her frustrations with Levi seem never-ending. And she continues suffering in silence, thinking about what they could have been.

She would look forward to these walks back home so much. They would be the highlight of her day, the reward of all the work she’s done throughout.

Joy would overcome her, and she would feel blissful. to spend even a single moment with him.

But now she can’t help but overthink every single Levi related decision she has made.

Her dream of being with him still remaining a dream, because even though they are lovers, he hardly treats her like one.

“Did you get a dress to wear for the wedding?” Levi asks, a futile attempt to make a conversation. He likes to hear her voice, and the childish tone that grips it when she’s excited.

“Oh yeah, Ivan’s wedding is just a month away now.” She recollects. “ I’ll probably not… I’m trying to save up and it's not like it's my wedding and I have to look pretty anyways.”

Levi clicks his tongue in response, and Mae grimaces. Once again the person she wants attention from doesn’t give her any. She wishes he’d tell her that she’s pretty exactly as she is. She wishes he’d tell her that he wants her to look pretty for him.

And even though she walks stiff and silent, her unhappiness is piercing and loud. Levi can only pray that he’s not the reason for the distaste on her lips.

“You look so tired… You should stop overworking yourself. I can give you some money instead.” He comments. I hate it when you work so many jobs , he means.

“Do I look bad?”

“Like shit.” He talks with his usual bluntness.

Her insecurities sky rocket. Sometimes she wonders why she even tries so hard to manage everything. Her eyes flicker away, blinking away the tears that form against her will.

“You don’t have to be here everyday, I know you're busy, and obviously 4 hours sitting in a bar is a huge waste of time for you.” Bitterness leaves its traces in her tone, and the silence that falls next feels like a harsh slap to Levi.

He worries about her, he wants the best for her. And he wonders where he’s going wrong.

“Mae…” his voice trails off, softening. “It’s not about me, it's about you.”

He hates the state she’s living in. He hates all the jobs she has to do just to make some money.

And he doesn’t know how to tell her that her condition reminds him of the type of life his mother used to live.

And he feels like a failure, giving a harsh life once again, to the woman in his heart.

Of course, it is inconvenient for him to take out 4 hours from his day to do nothing… But it's much more than his inconveniences.

To him, it's the only way he can profess his feelings to Mae.

And meeting her is the only thing he looks forward to, in his entire day.

“I’m not with you to take money from you Levi… I don’t think I’ll be able to respect myself if I do so.” Her voice pulls him back to the impending conversation. It's the same answer that she’s repeated a hundred times before.

“Okay,” he sighs, defeated. And he wishes she could see things from his side instead, And how it's him that made her quit her good old job at the Survey corps and landed her in this shitty position.

They trudge ahead, nevertheless. Silence stirs into the moment, seeping into their relationship as well.

The barren trees that stand tall against the wind, disappear and heaps of garbage replace them. The colors are gone and the streets are musty. The houses are gray, made of metal sheds, and rusted in some places. And the smell of sewage overpowers everything.

Mae’s home lies in the inner areas, where things only get more disgusting.

Levi’s face turns into a grimace. And Mae takes in a breath, on the verge of breaking apart.

What has her life turned to? It seems like a never ending tunnel, with no source of light waiting at the end.

She misses her parents, but they’re far dead. And she misses the bond her and Levi used to have, but Levi seems indifferent.

And just as always, she keeps it all within herself, all her problems, all her frustrations. When things are uncertain, she shuts herself off instead of speaking about it.

It’s what she did, when he started ignoring her back in the Survey Corps, and it’s what she’s doing now as well. By pushing her desires down her throat. Snatching their strength, and barring them mute.

And Levi hears her silences, he senses her displeasures. And he wants her to tell him what’s hurting her, even if it's parts of him that are at fault.

“What’s up with you today? And please don’t tell me that you’re alright… I've known you long enough to know that you’re not…” Levi tries once again, hoping to encourage her to speak up. For a moment their hands touch and Mae’s eyes glimmer.

He’s right. He’s known her for three years now. In fact he’s the only person alive who's known her for that long. Leaving Mr. Mendes and Ivan of course.

Levi and her have been through so much together.

And yet, the entanglement between them feels so fragile. Like it will break apart with the gush of wind.

It was so much simpler before. Casual head pats were thrown around. She would thoughtlessly poke his cheek and talk to him for hours. They would cook together when they had days off.

He even wiped out food stuck below her lips once, because it was deeply bothering his inner clean freak.

But he doesn’t do any of that anymore.

He doesn’t ruffle her hair anymore. He doesn’t cook with her anymore. And sometimes he even hesitates to sit next to her.

She comes to him, all happy and excited and he sits quaintly silent, busy with all the paperwork he has to day. She dresses up, braiding her hair, and outlining her eyes, attempting to look pretty for him, And he doesn’t even notice.

He is her lover, the person who is supposed to keep her first. The person who only has eyes for her. The person who is supposed to love her the most. And yet she feels so uncared for.

Being in a relationship has never felt this one-sided.

“Do you love me Levi?” Her voice frays, cracking on the edges. It's a cry for help. Her call for re-assurance. Sometimes she really feels unworthy of him. And she prays that he admits that he likes her, at the very least.

But the question renders Levi speechless. He is unprepared, and his heart is lodged so deep in his throat, it forces him to be silent.

“I mean… I do find you more tolerable than most?’ he stutters out after a while, unsure.

And Mae’s eyes flit down, filled with disappointment.

What kind of answer is that? Someone tolerable? Is that all she is to him?

The spiral she’s falling down into isn’t unfamiliar. It's the same that she spends hours in. Her mornings begin with whether he loves her. And her nights end with crying about the unfortunate state of her relationship.

Time runs slow, as it drifts into slumber.

Levi’s steel gray eyes are trained ahead, his lips slightly parted. And Mae’s heart starts fluttering again as she looks at him. Levi walks like the wind, and she flies like the sand behind him. She hopes she doesn’t lose herself in the process of loving him.

And she tries her best to contain the moisture in her eyes. Unable to take this pain of being so close, yet so far from him. Of being his lover, yet not even feeling like his friend

She has never loved anyone the way she has loved him. It is so self consuming. Like drowning deeper in a pit of water, and doubting whether somewhere at the end, things will be worth it or not. And sometimes the water feels warm and fills her with hope, yet sometimes it is cold and she shudders in how deep she's stuck.

Because Levi is what she thinks of when she wakes up, and he is also what she thinks when she dozes off. And at one point in her life, all she ever wanted was for him to get his tea shop, because all she ever dreamt of, was his dream coming true.

But that was wrong. And she can’t spend her entire life leeching on someone else's goals. She has to be a little more independant, a little more responsible for her own happiness.

And now she knows that if things feel bothersome in the relationship, she will leave. However heartbreaking it might be.

Because if she doesn’t look after her heart, then who will?

If only she knew that Levi sits rigid because of his loud head, that questions every action he takes. Doubting everything he does, because he doesn't know how to be romantic. He doesn’t know what to do with all the love that Mae pours out at him.

And he still doesn’t know what to do with this feeling of loving and being loved, because he is so unused to it. Mistakes are all he’s ever made. He’s afraid he’ll hurt her again.

And they walk ahead, in tandem. Like 2 parallel lines, never meant to unite,

The familiar exterior of Mae's home finally comes to sight. It’s depressing, a small metal shed, stacked in between two thin walls, but for now, it seems more comforting than standing next to Levi.

Their journey ends before they could unite. The candle flame blows off before it could flicker. And Mae looks towards the gate, longing to get away from her unloving lover.

Her mind, her heart, her body are tired.

She’s been working so damn hard. Without a single break, on minimum wage. But even after all this work she’s doing, life feels so unfulfilling. There’s nothing rewarding, and she still has no one to come back to, leaving herself.

Slowly she turns to face Levi, with a subtle frown pulling on her lips.

“Goodnight…” Not a single peck, not a single smile. Her eyes fall to the ground, fearful that the tears might spring out.

And she is convinced that Levi doesn’t want her. And he’s only not voicing it out because he's afraid to hurt her feelings again.

Because he still sees her as the weak and sensitive girl, who let him hold her by her collar, and couldn’t say a word in return.

And Levi looks at her fading figure with his lips downturned, missing the warmth of her lips that blossoms on his cheek when she pecks him.

Hi guys, I hope everything is making sense so far. (no plot holes or questions in your mind... I'm hoping lol)

This chapter was more about what's going on between Levi and Mae on an individual level. I'm sorry if this chapter was a little boring, but I promise that things are going to start moving pretty quick

One of the problems I had with the previous chapter (17-20) was that it never showed how hard Mae's life had become, as she was tackling two jobs at once. And also there was hardly any focus on her being a doctor. So I hope I'm at least tackling that.

Other than that, as always I'll be very happy to hear anything you have to say (criticism, comments, opinions about the newer chapters being better or bad)

I hope you have a great day/ night ahead.

Taglist: @keijikunn @evas-leslas @leviackermanmyhero245 (message me if you want to be added)

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

Text

Sweetest of Exiles - Two

A/N: The response to this little story has been insane! Thank you all so much for your kind words, it means the world to me. I hope you continue to like this very self-indulgent fic that has grown to be one of my favorite things I’ve written (even if most of it was written while sipping sprite+merlot).

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no Y/N), Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Warnings for this Chapter: MORE MAGIC!, Angst, blood and a bit of gore, not super-descriptive smut, Oberyn sometimes uses sex to make people smile. And it works. I once again wrote and “edited” this while sipping wine. All mistakes will probably not be edited. If you want to read more about Oberyn being in love with love, check out @pettyprocrastination and her wonderful hc’s about our favorite prince here!

Word Count: 7.6k (oops)

(banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites)

CHAPTER TWO: The Prince

Oberyn was only slightly amused when he heard the unmistakable sound of Pero grumbling (growing steadily louder) and a feminine reply (remaining calm and level, much to Oberyn’s delight) carry on for nearly the entire night before reaching a crescendo of an annoyed huff and a slammed door.

It would seem few people would actually sleep that night.

“She sounded pleased to see you.”

“Shut up, princeling.”

Oberyn only laughed.

When the sun came up the next day and the small company was ready to depart the ruined castle, Oberyn found himself beside the Magistrate, Orestes, as they set off toward Myr. Pero was leading the caravan while the lady—to whom Oberyn still hadn’t been formally introduced—was sequestered away in a carriage they had found in the castle’s stables. Orestes had muttered something about that it was one of the carriages of their original traveling party but no one seemed to care much. All of the men in their company kept their distance from the small carriage, strangely wary of getting too close.

All of it was so odd to Oberyn. He did not seem to feel what the other men were feeling. The all-too-brief glimpse he had stolen had proven she was a woman—beautiful and bloody—but not some formidable monster to fear.

If anything, the prince would have described her as delicate. Beautiful, obviously, but delicate.

A sudden shout from the back of the company had almost everyone turning to see a wave of fire encase the last standing spire of the castle before bleeding into the rest of the ruins. Oberyn’s dark gaze caught movement from the carriage; a hand slipping back into the shadows behind the curtains, skin dripping with something-

“Strange, is it not?” Orestes asked, looking at the fire. “Perhaps one of the men left a torch burning.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement but did not forget the strange sight of her hand slipping away just as the fires reached its crescendo. “Tell me about your lady, Magistrate. I have not had the pleasure of being introduced, yet.”

And Orestes quickly did, regaling the prince with tales of his time in Qohor and how Lord Ollo had been kind if not cold but his daughter was warm and welcoming and always ready to host him for a meal at their manse in the forest. “But it seems that the people of Qohor know very little about them aside from their names and how much power they can wield and how much gold they kept. They whisper that her mother was a sorceress, devoted to the god of Qohor and trained in Asshai. Gifted in magicks and all things arcane.”

“Have you not met her?”

Orestes shook his head. “Dead before I came to Qohor. And no one seems to be willing to speak of it. Tovar has met her, to my knowledge. My lady has told me that her mother used to bring him sweets after running around the forest outside their manse, gathering kindling for her hearth.”

“She spoke to you of Tovar?”

“Briefly, only a handful of times. Truly, until I met him, I did not make the connection of her childhood friend Pero and Tovar. She seems to guard their time together like a secret.”

“As does Tovar.”

Orestes turned his head to look at him, dark brows knitted together. “Does he not speak of her? If I held her notice for even a moment, I would never stop speaking of the time I basked in her attention. For it truly is a gift.”

Oberyn had to keep himself from smiling at the sound of unadulterated awe and obvious adoration of the magistrate’s voice. It was almost pathetic. But it was refreshing to know that at least someone was completely aware and proud of their feelings. Not that Oberyn was disappointed in Pero…right?

“She truly is someone to be treasured.” Orestes sighed and Oberyn bit back another laugh. “But, you said you have not been introduced? I thought surely Tovar would have made introductions. Then again, I thought I had hit my head when I first saw you together—seeing double.” He laughed. Oberyn did not. “May I introduce you?”

Oberyn easily found Pero’s form through the crowd and sighed. Stubborn man. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

The pair slowed their horses’ pace to flank the carriage and Orestes knocked at the carriage door as it rumbled along the old road. The half-torn curtain across the window slid away and the woman leaned her head out, greeting them with a smile. She looked far better than she had the last time Oberyn had seen her. Gone was the blood and the swelling had left her face—truly, if he did not know what state she had been found in, Oberyn would have just thought her a bit tired from her travels. Curious.

“My lady, I hope we have not disturbed your rest.”

“Of course not, Orestes. You know I welcome our little chats.”

Orestes cheeks bloomed with a blush and he ducked his chin for a moment. “As I treasure yours, my lady. But I would be remiss if I did not introduce you to Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell.” Orestes waved a hand toward him as he said her name, calling her The Lady of the Dark Wood.

Strange, Oberyn thought. Petal suited her much better.

She leaned a little further out of the small window and smiled at him. “You are far from Dorne, my prince.”

“You know of my country?” He asked. It was rare that someone from Essos knew much of Westeros aside from a few of the cities and trading ports.

Her smile widened and she looked radiant. “Only from my books. I would love to hear more, if you are welcome to the idea.”

“I am always happy to tell others of the beauty of my home.”

“Perhaps we could compare our homes,” Orestes interjected, his eyes narrowed just a touch as he looked at Oberyn before turning to smile at her.

She hummed, acknowledging Orestes, before her eyes cut back to Oberyn with some unspoken twinkle in her gaze. “I should like to hear of your home when we make camp.”

And she made good on her easily-dismissible comment, searching him out when they made camp that night. They were still a day’s ride from Myr Pero had commanded they stop for the night, not wanting to ride in the dark (and then the man all but disappeared with a handful of other men to search for something to hunt for the evening meal.)

She slipped from the carriage as the small band of men made camp and even helped one of the younger ones stabilize one of the poles on the muddied ground that surrounded them. The boy gave her a half-tilted smile in return and then hurried to finish the work for his tent.

Oberyn smiled as she approached, looking near-ethereal despite the bloodied wrappings around her arms and legs, peeking out from between her fine gown. He had just about finished setting up his tent and—just for a moment—lost his concentration as he watched her come closer. And the rope in his hand suddenly slipped from his grip, and the grounding stake scratched against his palm and tore at his skin.

The tent’s wall flapped in the wind until he grabbed it again and quickly righted the stake.

“Are you hurt?” Without waiting for his answer, she took his hand with a hum rumbling at the back of her throat. “It is not too deep.” Her dexterous fingers slid over the wound and he bit back a small hiss of pain. Blood oozed and she did not move her gaze from the wound as her fingers carefully bracketed the cut. “You will heal.” She pressed the small bit of blood between her thumb and forefinger, swirling it around to coat her skin, almost absentmindedly. Circling, circling, circling until it was only a thin coat of crimson on the pads of her fingers. A long breath pushed out from between her lips. “Most interesting.”

“What is?” He barely noticed that the sting from the wound lessened as soon as she pulled back.

She looked up at him and then wiped his blood against her skirts with a small smile, revealing nothing. “I hope you do not mind if I came to you before camp was settled.”

“Of course not, my lady. I am sure your company is much more pleasant than my brothers in arms.” He fastened the last tie on the tent and then held the flap back for her, silently inviting her inside.

The furnishings were a little grander than some of the other men’s belongings, but still probably far less than what she was accustomed to, if her fine dress (and Orestes’ constant blathering about her home) indicated. But she settled on his small, elevated bedroll without hesitation and patted the blanket next to her.

“I am sure you have many stories of your adventures. I hope you do not mind if I hoard your time for the evening.”

Oberyn couldn’t help but smile as he sat beside her after making sure the tent flap was tied open, allowing her to keep her propriety. He glanced down at his hand to see the cut seemed…like it had been healing for a handful of days already. He had seen stranger things—had read stranger still during his time at the Citadel. But this—she—was something to behold.

“But it seems you have stories to tell me too, my lady.”

Her smile widened. “You’re a bit more observant than your companions.” She leaned forward and, just for a moment, Oberyn caught a glint in her eye that made him think of a caged lion. But then it was gone. “What would you know?”

They spoke throughout the night, only leaving each other’s sides for a moment to retrieve a bit of food to sate their hunger, before retreating back to his tent. (Oberyn noticed how she, ever so briefly, sought to find Pero in the crowd and found nothing but unfamiliar faces before she turned back to him.) They spoke of everything—of their childhoods, their cultures, their parents, of their losses. But Oberyn knew she was waiting for him to ask the question he had, biding his time. And he noticed how she would easily skirt around Pero’s presence and absence in her life.

His dark eyes flittered down to the wound on his hand—now almost completely healed. When she caught him looking at it, she smiled over the rim of the wine jug she had produced from the depths of one of her trunks in the carriage.

“Ask, my prince. I know you want to.”

“How?” He asked simply.

Her smile widened and she handed him the jug. “You must be more specific. That question has many answers.”

Oberyn huffed, fighting a smile, and held up his hand. “The Maesters of Westeros have long said magic was all but gone from the world. It died with the last dragon, they said. And here you are, alive and well.”

She laughed, a light sound that had him laughing, too. “I am not magic incarnate, my prince. But it is true, most magic has been tied to dragons, to the wills of men who eventually shunned it for other things. But there are a few who have been blessed by they who watch.”

“The gods,” Oberyn said, knowing what she was saying. He took a quick gulp of wine before setting the jug aside, wanting to focus on her and the glint in her beautiful eyes.

She nodded and then reached out to take her hand in his. “Every gift comes with a price. Mine has been paid in blood and it requires constant recompense. I have touched your blood. You have paid a price. I must give you something in return.” Her smile was gentle as her finger traced the healed wound. “You have a great love ahead of you, my prince.”

He chuckled. “Oh? Have the gods found someone who will tame me?”

“Not tame you. No, no. They will never stifle or control you. Theirs is a gentleness to balance your wrath.”

“When will I meet them?”

She shook her head and pulled back her touch, leaving a cold spot on his skin. “I cannot see dates or years. I simply…see what I am allowed.”

“Have you seen Pero?”

Her answering smile was small—she did seem fond of smiling. “I have. Often. Even without the blood price, I would see him in my dreams. I dreamt of him the night he left, you know. And the night before he came again. A quiet comfort, to be sure. I had been selfish in year before, calling on the blood to show me his face, just show me his face, so I could know that he is well.”

And, just for a moment, Oberyn thought of a love-struck woman trying to catch a glimpse of her lover’s face in a crowded ballroom. But then he remembered what she had said—what Pero had said. “He left you?”

“Yes.” She said it so simply and it seemed to echo in his chest. “In the middle of the night. The day before my nameday, too.” She hummed. “A cruel present, my father called it.”

“Did he ever-”

“Tell me why? No. And he scarcely met my eye last night and then…” her words died on her tongue. “I am suddenly just a child again. Hoping for the boy I love to notice me.” The next laugh she let out was filled with bitterness. “Did he ever…speak of me?”

And Oberyn was nothing if not honest. “He did not, my lady.”

“Call me Petal. I know you think it suits me more.”

“You do not let the Magistrate call you Petal.”

“No. I do not.” She reached out to him and Oberyn readily placed his hands in hers. “But that can be our little secret, hm? Now, ask me anything. I know you have more questions running through your mind, and they do not involve Pero.”

“True. I do want to know everything about you. But I would be remiss if I did take the chance to ease your heart’s burden.”

“My heart is not burdened, my prince.”

“Call me Oberyn. And do not lie to me.”

She sighed but did not pull her hands from his even as she glanced away from his gaze. “It is silly to think of one person for so long and to know it is not returned or reciprocated. I tried to have him tell me why, last night. Why he left, why he did not care to tell me where he was going. And I only received his ire in return.”

“I do not believe it is ire, Petal,” he said, smiling at the sound of the nickname on his own tongue. It sounded right. “He is a stubborn man. Years of this life may have stifled that heart you knew as a young girl. But I promise you, it is still there. And it beats for you.”

“But are you certain, Oberyn? He has changed so much.”

“As have you, I am sure. But will you deny that your heart has not changed? At least when it comes to our shared companion.”

She shook her head, a smile starting to tilt up her lips once again. “I will not lie to you.” Her hands squeezed his. “You know, when we were children, Pero and I would spend almost all of our waking hours in the forest outside my home when my mother did not insist we attend lessons. The forest is almost always filled with mist and cloud—but that day, the sky itself seemed to want to seek the shelter of the trees. Pero would always count down between rolls of thunder, telling me he would know the exact moment the first bit of rain would fall. It was his gift, he said.”

The tent’s opening was suddenly filled by a dark figure.

Pero looked at him and then at the woman beside him. His dark eyes narrowed for just a moment but even as his face settled into a practiced apathy, Oberyn still saw the hardened gleam in his gaze. “I see you two have been introduced.”

“Join us, Pero,” she said with a hopeful tone. She held out a hand toward him. “I was just telling Oberyn of our time together in the forest—that time when we were caught in the rain-”

“It seems you have told him all that he needs knowing, my lady.” And while there was heat to his words, Oberyn heard the unmistakable hurt in his lover’s tone.

“Pero,” she said, “please.”

But he stepped back and disappeared back into the shadows of the camp.

“Oh,” was all she said before her hand slowly fell back down into her lap.

The sound of her own hurt stabbed at his chest and Oberyn quickly took his hands in hers and kissed her knuckles. He would have words with Pero later. But now, he would leave her alone. Not when he knew she felt so rejected. He would have her smile again. “Do not let him sour your mood, Petal. Am I not able to make you smile, too?”

She smiled, small, but it was still a smile. “I do believe you could rend smiles from stone, Oberyn.”

“Tell me more of Pero. Tell me anything you deem me worthy of knowing. Unburden your heart, at least for a moment.”

And that was when she finally pulled from his grasp and stood, walking to the tent’s opening. “Pero is…moonlight.” She hummed and angled her face up to look at the sliver of the moon. “It is lovely but untouchable.”

“There are stories about the moon being a man—a god—who loved a woman so much he came to this mortal plane to be with her.” Oberyn walked to her side and looked up at the moon, too, trying to see what she saw in that little ball of light.

“I think I’ve heard that myth. It ends sadly, doesn’t it?”

“Not all myths end poorly. Some are tales of hope, requited love, filled with joy.”

“I suppose that is true.” But her gaze did not move from the moon. “I suppose kissing a god would make an unhappy ending worth it, right?”

And she looked near ethereal in that soft light, so beautiful. And the prince always loved beauty. “Tell me, have you ever kissed a prince?”

“There are no princes in Qohor.” She turned from the moon to smile at him.

“Is that a ‘no,’ Petal?”

She laughed. “It is.”

And then Oberyn moved forward and pressed his mouth against her smiling lips. And she tasted so sweet—with a bite of something metallic—as he was able to lick into her wondrous mouth and her hands tugged at his tunic. Eager. His hands gently cupped her face and pulled her ever closer, letting her fall into his lap with another laugh against his mouth.

She was intoxicating.

Her fingers pushed into his hair and tugged just at the base of his neck, coaxing a moan from his throat. He only broke away to catch his breath, knocking his nose against hers and listening to the melodic tone of her breathless giggle. And then she was the one pressing forward to steal another kiss and then another and another.

And the prince would deny her nothing if it meant she smiled at him like that again. But he needed to know. “I am not him, Petal.”

“I know,” she whispered against his mouth. “And, tonight, that makes it all the better.” And she kissed him again.

His hands circled her waist and squeezed, just for a moment, before he reached out just enough to untie the last string on the tent’s flap, closing them off from the rest of the world as her mouth moved against his with ease.

Gently, ever so gently, he pulled at the laces of her grown and set it loose as he held her gaze.

“You may walk away at any time, Petal. Do not feel obligated.”

She shook her head and curled her fingers into his tunic, pulling him forward just a single step. “I am not obligated. I know you and I wish to know you.”

With that express permission, Oberyn took care to undress her slowly, carefully, like she was something holy, something—someone to be treasured. And she was. In the dim light of the tent, he marveled at her soft skin, the breathy sighs that slipped by her lips, and the decadent warmth she exuded as he sunk into her, letting his own sigh escape his mouth. She was magnificent. Her hips undulated in slow, smooth movements and his hands curled over her warm skin, needing to keep her close, to continue to feel her delicious cunt envelope him until he was truly spent.

“You are sublime, Petal.”

She gasped against his mouth as his grip tightened and he took control of her movement, hands tightening around her hips as his hips pistoned, faster and harder and then she was keening against his kiss-swollen lips and he felt her shake, felt her tight channel squeeze around his cock before a cry broke her lips. She threw her head back and his teeth sank into her skin, still chasing his own high. Again and again, his hips slammed into hers and then he was pulling out—just in time. He spilled across the skin of her thighs and stomach, painting her like some obscene canvas.

He leaned down to slant his mouth against hers and felt her smile against his lips.

“Oh, you make such pretty noises, Petal.”

“As do you, my prince. It has been a pleasure of my life to know I’ve caused them.” She gave a breathless laugh as his fingers swirled against the mess, rubbing it into her warm skin like a salve. Another happy sigh slipped by her lips as she reached up, fingers tracing across his chest. “I hurt you.”

He looked down to see four perfectly carved tracks over his heart. “It is nothing, Petal. A badge of honor.” Oberyn leaned down to steal a kiss against her pouting lips. “I will heal.” He murmured it against her lip and laughed when she huffed. “Now sleep. Or would you like me to tire you out?”

Oberyn woke with a start. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with Petal curled over his chest and a bit of sweat cooling on his skin from their third bout of fucking—it had been peaceful and beautiful and wonderful. Waking up to find her crawling over his waist was and settling her weight on his stomach was not an unwelcome surprise but-

She did not look right. Perhaps it was the early morning light filtering in through the folds of the tent but her beautiful eyes were clouded, near milky, and then her clammy hands were grasping at his face, fingers pressing into his cheeks. “Lions and dogs on the wall and blood on stone.”

“Petal,” Oberyn whispered, gazing up into the unnatural depths of her eyes. “Petal, please-”

“The sun screams and is snuffed out.”

He reached up to grasp at her hands and let out a shuddering breath and her eyes shut. “Petal.” She felt cold under his hands. “Look at me.”

Her eyes opened and they were their usual, beautiful shade again. “The sun,” she said. “The sun…”

Oberyn wrapped his arms around her as he sat up on his bedroll, letting her shake in his grasp. “Where did you go, Petal? Tell me.”

She shook her head but sighed as his lips skirted down her shoulder. “You paid the price, my prince. And I gave what was paid for.”

“That was not like before—you were gone. Someone else took inhabited your skin.”

She shook her head. “The higher the price, the stronger the gift.” Her fingers tapped against the marks she had left on his chest.

“Is it always visions?”

She shook her head. “No. Not always.” Her head moved just enough to press another kiss against his shoulder before she stood and grabbed her discarded dress from the tent floor.

The casual way she said it had him thinking of her bloodied hand slipping back between the shades of the carriage just before the ruins were taken by fire. Not always visions, indeed. Oberyn watched her dress for a moment before rising and helping her tighten the lacings on the back. “Tell me. Why does your god demand such high a price?”

She turned to him as he finished and smiled. “I do not question him. He has given me a wonderful, fearsome gift and I will be welcomed by him with open arms when he calls for me.”

Oberyn had heard of the Black Goat worshiped in Qohor. A terrifying, dangerous god of death that some maesters called a demon. A god of death: strong and unwavering. “Why would you spend your life worshipping the end of it?”

“Death begets life begets death. Why should only one be worshipped? A good death is its own reward, is it not?”

Oberyn smiled and let his finger trail down her arm and grasped her hand in a soft grip before raising it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You speak as a warrior, my lady.”

“I am sure you have found most women are warriors in their own ways, my prince.” Her eyes sparkled with some unspoken jape before she pulled her hand out of his grasp.

He grabbed at the silken trail of her skirts like a besotted boy and let the fabric slide across his hands as he watched her leave, surrounded by the first rays of sunlight.

Pero was quiet as Oberyn urged his horse to his side.

“You disappeared last night.”

“What did she tell you?” Pero asked in return, tactlessly dodging Oberyn’s unanswered question.

Oberyn glanced back to see the familiar carriage still at the rear of the traveling party with Orestes keeping pace beside it. “She told me how you were her dearest friend and confidante during her childhood. She told me how you encouraged her gifts despite you not entirely understanding them.” Oberyn paused, watching the barest traces of emotions flicker by Pero’s features. Joy, sadness, fondness, despair—it was all there in the subtle ticks of his brows and the pull of his lips.

“Her father sent me away—three weeks to the day after her mother disappeared,” Pero bit out, hands tightening over his reins.

“For what reason?” Oberyn asked.

“He gave no reason. But he did not need to—it was obvious enough. I was a poor nobleman’s thirdborn son and she…”

Oberyn watched Pero’s face fall for just a moment before he looked away.

“It is of no consequence. She is safe. I have seen her smile again. That is what matters.”

Oberyn had to stop himself from groaning. “Truly, Pero, you are more dramatic than a mummer.”

“Hold your tongue, princeling-”

“She loves you—loves you still. Anyone with eyes can see that.” He paused. “Except for the magistrate, it seems.” Pero huffed but that did not deter the Dornish prince. “Truly, and for someone I trust implicitly to see things I cannot when I have my back turned, you are blind.”

“Enough, Oberyn!”

“No! She cares for you—cares for you even after you treated her poorly and refuse to meet her eye like she is some dirty urchin who attempted to steal your coin.”

“You spend one night with her and suddenly you are her confidante?” He hissed in return. “Just because you have been between her legs does not mean you know her. She is far more than you could ever hope to imagine.”

Oberyn reached out and grabbed Pero’s tunic, hauling him close before he could take his next breath. His horse whined at the sudden jostle of its saddle. “Do not speak of her like that. Do not speak of me like that. You are angry; at yourself, at the world, at the gods. But you do not have the right to shun her gentle smiles and company nor tell me I have used her like a woman in a brothel. We sought each other’s company when you spurned us.” Pero pulled out of his grip but Oberyn did not stop. “She asks for you, about you, every time. You have told me that no one is worthy of her attention or affection—but she has made it abundantly clear that she wishes to have your affections in the way you have garnered hers. She loves you, Pero. Loves you still. Do not run away for her again.”

But Pero only urged his horse faster, setting off toward the city finally coming into view. Oberyn only watched him go with a sigh and turned back to the rest of the company, telling them to ready for their entrance into the city.

Myr was beautiful—but it had been beautiful the last handful of times Oberyn had visited the city with the Second Sons. The city smelled of fresh earth and fresh linens and ink and filled with shining white stone structures and the bazaars were teeming with people selling their wares. Orestes was quick to show them to the ornate stables near the gates, making sure to loudly proclaim that their steeds were to be taken care of as if they belonged to Orestes. The carriage was also carted off and stored, Petal’s trunks quickly carried away by a small fleet of servants.

The Magistrate was instantly greeted like a prince or a king and quickly lauded by the crowds as they stepped out of the stables and closer toward the center of the sprawling city. Oberyn watched Orestes reach out a hand for Petal and she took it with a small smile, letting him pull her along into the crowd toward a large, gleaming building that had bits of greenery trickling up toward the carved windows. A villa, he supposed it was called.

The rest of the company followed Oberyn up the half set of steps and largely ignored the guards posted at the entryway who looked confused at their presence and waffling between barring them entry or simply standing aside. The inside of the villa was just as ornate as the outside, filled with carved columns and opulent stonework. The tapestries and carpets the city was famed for covered the walls and lined the halls and everything smelled of the dye Oberyn knew the Myrish artisans used to create a distinct shade of red.

It was not unpleasant, but a strange smell to be sure.

Orestes seemed uncaring that a group of mercenaries had come into his home and continued to point this or that thing out to her, telling her how much he paid for it or how it was made. And Petal, for her part, did seem interested in the words coming out of the magistrate’s mouth. Her easy smile never faded or turned strained and he heard her ask a question or two in return. Always a perfect lady.

Oberyn found himself smiling when she did, catching her eye when she turned and winking and delighting in the small laugh he earned every time. But then his mood was somewhat soured by the fact that Pero had quickly fallen to the back of the group, as if trying to keep as much distance as possible from Petal.

It hurt him, to see her rejected so openly. Even as Orestes had them all settled into the numerous guest rooms his villa provided and made sure they all had steaming tubs of water brought in for baths, Pero never once tried to slip away to try to find her. He stayed with Oberyn in their shared room, inspecting and re-inspecting his weapons while waiting for Oberyn to finish his bath. Orestes had invited several other magistrates for a celebratory dinner and to show his appreciation to the small mercenary company he had employed—and heartily paid already.

“Are you going to speak to her tonight or continue to sulk like a scolded boy?”

Pero’s head snapped up and he scowled. “I am not sulking.”

The prince only hummed and rose from the water. He felt Pero’s familiar gaze trail down his back and tried not to smirk—knowing the view was being appreciated—and grabbed the fine linen provided to dry off. “You are. And if you do not at least try to speak to Petal tonight, I will have to take matters into my own hands.”

Pero stood, setting aside his weapons and started undressing to ready for his own bath. “Oh? Is that a threat princeling?”

Oberyn wrapped the linen around his waist and turned to face his lover. “Yes.”

When dinner, a veritable feast, was called and everyone was escorted into a large hall, draped with red fabric and gilded statues of snarling lions, Oberyn made certain that Pero was seated beside his lady. This earned him a brief side-eyed glance from the magistrate but Oberyn paid him no mind—he had dealt with far more and was not afraid of the nobleman. He was too busy taking care of the hearts of two people he cared about—the magistrate could pout.

He watched her eyes light up as Pero took his seat and she slowly, ever so slowly, started to pull conversation from the taciturn man while largely pacifying the magistrate with simple answers or anecdotes in response to his longwinded questions or stories. The other magistrates tried to gain Oberyn’s attention but he was too busy trying to guess what the pair were saying to each other from the other side of the room. But he was happy when he saw Pero’s face almost seem to shudder before his lips pulled into the briefest of smiles, aimed only at her as she turned to her plate to stab at another carrot.

“Prince Oberyn, they say Dorne is filled with the finest mounts the world has ever seen. Sandy steeds, they’re called, no?”

“Sand steeds,” Oberyn corrected without looking at the man beside him. “And yes, they are the best in the world. Can run for a day, a night, and another day without faltering.”

“Surely not!” The man guffawed. “Not horse can-”

Oberyn’s head finally snapped to the side at that. “Perhaps the horses on your continent tire easily, but I assure you, the Dornish do not.”

The man at Oberyn’s side looked like he had been slapped. “I meant no offence, your grace.”

“Then take care with your words. I am a lenient man but I may not be so next time you speak out of turn.”

The man’s face somehow paled to a color similar of curdled milk while his neck became a violent shade of scarlet. “O-of course.”

Oberyn, satisfied, turned back his favorite show continue to unfold.

Just before the last course was served—some sweet dish Oberyn only half-enjoyed—Pero smiled again. And Petal smiled with him.

Oberyn could not help his own answering smile from spreading across his face.

The festivities—if Oberyn could even call them that with the level of boredom he had endured for politeness sake—had lasted long into the night and most of the revelry had moved from inside the villa to the sprawling, marbled pools that dotted the grounds. Some of the company took part, never willing to turn down free food and wine, but Oberyn was content to watch everyone else (mostly) enjoy themselves. Petal, unfortunately, had been drawn back to Orestes’ side after the meal had finished and Pero had pouted like a child in the shadows for a moment before taking a plate of food and walking back to his room. The magistrate paraded her around like a prized trophy, making all of his guests wonder at her presence—Oberyn thought, just for a moment, if Orestes even had an inkling of who the woman on his arm was or could become with the right push.

For a few moments, Oberyn entertained himself with a pretty servant girl before letting her go back to her duties after another servant spilt a large jug of wine across the floor and caused a fuss. But during the distraction, Petal managed to slip away from Orestes’ side and met Oberyn in the shadows. He handed her the chalice of wine he had and smiled when she took a large gulp.

“Your magistrate seems fond of you.”

“He is fond of seeming like a hero even you and your men were the ones to rescue me.”

Oberyn plucked the chalice from her hand and polished off the rest of the wine. “I do believe you might have rescued yourself, Petal.”

Her eyes sparkled in the low light and she smiled. Her fingers tugged at the simple belt of fabric around his waist to bring him forward just a few steps, closing the distance between them. Her lips brushed against his and he could taste the wine on her smile.

“You are a good man, my prince. I want you to know that.”

He leaned into her, stealing her breath as he licked into her mouth for just a moment. “And you have another good man waiting for you in our chambers. I shall keep the magistrate busy.”

She hummed and kissed him again before slipping further into the shadows of the villa in search of her moonlight.

Oberyn watched her go with a sigh before plucking another chalice of wine from a servant’s hands and quickly drinking it down. Pero would thank him later, he was sure. And as the moon continued its rise into the starry sky, Oberyn entertained and distracted the magistrate and his guests with stories of Dorne and the sellsword company’s exploits across Essos. Whenever he saw Orestes’ eyes start to wander, looking for his missing companion, Oberyn would start another story and make sure Orestes’ cup was filled. And soon—but not soon enough, in Oberyn’s mind—almost everyone had retired for the rest of the night, needing to sleep off their overfilled stomach or partake in a bit more of a carnal delight in the quiet of their chambers.

Oberyn smiled as he started to find his way toward his chambers and witnessed a few servants taking advantage of their lack of duties to kiss each other slowly in the darkened hallways. A quiet reprieve, well earned.

The halls twisted and turned but Oberyn eventually found the door to his and Pero’s chambers and slowly pushed it open, hoping to not disturb anything that might be transpiring. But he let out a disappointed sigh when he only saw Pero sleeping on the large featherbed. His discarded (and empty) tray was haphazardly placed on the bedside table. At least he was consistent.

Oberyn shed his tunic and slipped beneath the silken blankets, smiling when Pero turned toward him, seeking warmth.

“Where is she?” Pero murmured without opening his eyes.

“Did she not come see you?” Oberyn asked with a frown.

“She was only here for a moment.” The words were slurred on his tired tongue, eyes still not open. “Said she would come back…” The words drifted off and were punctuated by a hearty snore.

Oberyn sighed and pushed his head against the overstuffed pillows. Difficult. They were both so difficult.

For the second time in just as many days, Oberyn woke with a start. But now it was not the welcoming warmth of a woman’s thighs bracketing his own that woke him from sleep.

No. It was the quiet scrape of metal on metal, of hurried footsteps of someone striving to be quiet. Sounds which only meant danger.

Oberyn swept aside the blankets and stood, walking over to the window to see a group approaching, dark hoods and cloaks obscuring their features. One by one, the group moved almost-silently into the villa. Their weapons were drawn and ready; strange, foreign shapes he had never seen before with long handles. Oberyn looked to Pero to see him with his swords already in his hands despite his lack of armor.

Oberyn grabbed his own sword and they both ventured out into the dark hall. Soft sounds of a struggle grew louder and louder with each step they took. A door to their right suddenly burst open and a half-dressed nobleman ran out into the hall. A quick glance into the room showed the bodies of another man and the pretty servant girl Oberyn had kissed only hours before. The hooded forms they had spied earlier had filled the room while more were stalking silently down the hall—they cut down the nobleman before he reached the next turn of the hall.

Oberyn and Pero both turned just in time to skewer a pair of hooded men who were slipping up behind them.

“We have the girl. It is not your life we want,” one of the men said in a strange, strained accent. “Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

Someone—a woman—yelled and their eyes were drawn to her—to Petal—once again in the arms of a man who meant her harm at the end of the hall. But her eyes were not the glassy, tired eyes he had spied only briefly back in the castle ruins. These were alight with…something. Something dark.

There was a short shout and then the unmistakable thud of a body hitting stone. She stood over the corpse, blood dripping from a small wound at her shoulder and more pooling beneath her feet from her would-be kidnapper. It glimmered like black ink in the moonlight.

She moved like water, skirts lifting and pulling as if invisible waves had surrounded her. Slow and steady—deadly, like a rising tide. Words poured from her mouth in a language he did not understand and sounded shrill to his ears.

Pero’s hand on his arm kept him from moving forward.

“She needs-”

“She knows exactly what she is doing, princeling.” Pero’s dark eyes flittered over to her and looked almost…soft and sad. “Let her do what she needs.”

Her hand raised toward the group of men. Their slow steps stopped.

“The demon,” one of them hissed.

Her fingers uncurled, knuckles pointed and skin tight.

One stupid man took a single step toward her, blade held out in front of him. And then the words came again and the man froze, foot hovering over the ground. A terrible scream wrenched its way from the man’s throat. His face purpled. Blood started to spill from the corners of his eyes, his mouth, his ears.

“It was you! You did this!”

“Demon!” another shouted.

Oberyn didn’t understand and he could not take his eyes away from the man starting to convulse in front of him, like some sort of morbid mummer. The convulsions grew faster and faster and the screams he let out grew more and more pained until his chest split open like an egg and blood came rushing out. It sprayed over her dress and she walked forward, hand still outstretched. More words he did not understand tumbled on her tongue and the hooded men took a collective step back. But it did not help. One by one, each one of them started to shake and fall. The blood beneath her feet almost seemed to ripple with a heartbeat—her heartbeat, Oberyn surmised. She truly was a woman to be feared and loved. Sublime.

Shouts in Ghiscari soon filled the air. They were quickly snuffed out by the crack of ribs and spines, of bodies hitting stone.

Oberyn looked to Pero to see him quietly watching this woman, a strangely soft look in his eyes. He saw all of her. But maybe he always had.

There was another noise behind them and Oberyn turned, ready to fight, but only saw Orestes, still in his sleeping clothes. The magistrate stared at her with wonder in his eyes as soon as he stepped out into the hall. “You wondrous being. I always knew you were-”

A zealot’s body falling to the ground at his feet and the sudden gush of blood spattering against his skin quickly halted any other words on the magistrate’s tongue.

Two guards, tired and confused, seized the last handful of zealots and disarmed them. They could face punishment for their crimes here in Myr. Perhaps that would make everything easier for Orestes to explain away.

But that did not matter.

She did.

The hall grew quiet except for her labored breathing and then her knees hit the blood-covered stone.

“I want to go home,” she whispered. And even covered in blood, and having just slaughtered the men who would have harmed her for their own gain—she looked delicate. Not fragile—never fragile. But delicate. “Please, Pero. Take me home.”

Pero nodded immediately and sheathed his swords. He bent down to her and hoisted her into his arms, uncaring of the blood she trailed across his tunic. “I’ve got you, Petal. I’ll take you home.”

Oberyn watched Pero walk away with his Petal, heading toward the stables, and he only just caught her looking over Pero’s shoulder. With a bloody finger, she beckoned him to come along.

He could not say no.

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

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polar534 · 3 years

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Hockey AU: Pizza Date Pt. 2

Hey! Fun fact, I wrote this months ago. Does this mean it predates Dana confirming there is no homophobia on the Isles? Yes it does. Very excited about it. :3

Anyways I won't waste your time any longer. I know both of these are pfairly short but it's been a 2-parter ever since I posted it in my discord I'm a part of. (Shout-outs once more to my friends there. Y'all lovely people and know what you did. >.>)

No TW this time. Just some fluff and explanations.

***

“Luz can you slow down a bit? I’m sure the house isn’t going anywhere.” Amity complained as the human led her forcibly down the street.

Her voice seemed to cut through the chaos in Luz’s mind like a knife. She focused on her hand and gave Amity an apologetic squeeze as she slowed down.

“I’m sorry. Look at me, dragging you around at breakneck speed when you’re still tired and run-down from practice.” Luz smiled sheepishly, falling in line with her girlfriend to walk next to her.

“Well, actually the food helped quite a bit.” Amity admitted truthfully, before turning to face Luz sharply. “But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.” Luz grinned back at her.

They walked in silence for a bit, Luz struggling to process exactly what had happened back at the pizza joint. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, that nothing her and Amity did was wrong, but it didn’t keep the feeling of fear from creeping in.

Amity seemed to pick up on her discomfort though, as she always did, and pulled her girlfriend to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. For a moment, Luz feared she would want to talk about what just happened, and felt the knot rising to her throat but instead Amity simply asked her to come back to the ice rink with her.

“There’s a couple of shots that I could probably use some advice on. Plus, I was really enjoying just getting to spend some time with you. Home can wait a little longer.”

***

Amity was panting as she skated over to Luz who had half a pizza crust hanging out of her mouth. She grinned as Amity took her helmet off and leaned up against the small railing separating the player box from the rink.

“You are looking amazing out there! The other teams aren’t going to know what hit em!" Luz exclaimed excitedly, barely managing to swallow the crust before jumping up to grasp Amity's hands.

Amity laughed as a blush spread across her face. "Thanks Luz, but for the most part I won't be making any shots in-game. My job is going to mostly be defense. That means body checking anyone who comes near my teammate with the puck." She said with a confident grin.

Luz watched her confidence with a wide smile. She got to watch her girlfriend not only have fun, but also slam into other players multiple times in one night? On purpose?!

How lucky could she possibly get?

"But wait, if you aren't really going to have the puck, why'd we come back here to practice your shots?"

It was Amity's turn to smirk as she pointed at the empty pizza box sitting next to Luz.

"Well. You didn't touch your food at the restaurant first of all. And secondly, I knew something was bothering you. And when something bothers Luz Noceda, she needs distractions to make herself feel useful before she can start to feel better." The witch answered plainly, giving Luz's hands a squeeze.

Luz's smile slipped. Amity noticed it fade and pulled her hands forward, yanking Luz up from her sitting position.

"Come on Chaos, let's skate for a bit."

"Oh, Amity, I'm not sure that's the best ide-" Luz tried arguing, but Amity had pulled back just enough that the human had to scramble over the railing or risk being squished into it.

As soon as her feet touched the ice, Luz's legs slipped out from under her. Amity's arms were there to support her in an instant, providing just enough balance that they began to glide backwards, almost peacefully, around the ice. Every once and awhile Luz's limbs would freak out and she would nearly wipe out, but every time Amity was right there, holding her up and the girls would devolve into giggles once again.

When they were both exhausted from fighting Luz's inability to function on ice, Amity guided them both off the rink and they took a seat in the players box once again.

"Ok. I swear. One of these day's I'm finally going to just get it and I'll be able to walk all over the ice. Just you wait." Luz promised Amity as she wrapped an arm around her girlfriend's shoulders.

"I believe you'll keep trying anyways." Amity laughed with her, leaning into the embrace.

Suddenly she stiffened. Turning around, Luz saw it in her amber eyes how serious she was.

"Now, Noceda. You're either going to talk to me about what happened back at the restaurant or I'm going to toss you back onto the ice and you can try again right now." She growled menacingly.

Luz gulped.

"Ok ok! I'll tell you. I'm not really in the mood to go splat right now anyways." She squeaked out in a nervous rush.

Amity's eyes softened as she waited for Luz to continue.

"It's just that, I don't know if you heard or noticed, since you were kinda tired earlier, but those ladies who were sitting by us... they kept raising a fuss. Which is stupid! I shouldn't care what they think, and I don't! But... they kept bothering everyone on the staff and the other customers. I was getting worried that things were going to escalate and I didn't want you to get caught up in all of that."

Amity's face was blank as she puzzled together what Luz had said. Maybe her reaction didn't make sense after all. Luz was probably overreacting anyways...

"Raising a fuss? Why would they raise a fuss over us?" Amity asked curiously.

Luz's eyes widened. It wasn't like Amity to be oblivious, that description mostly fell to the human, but the genuine innocence in her girlfriend's voice worried her.

"About us, because we were there. Together. Being happy." Luz answered bitterly, holding Amity even tighter.

Luz watched as Amity's face twisted into a confused frown. It suddenly occured to her that the witch may not actually know what homophobia really was. In all the time Luz had spent in the Boiling Isles, she never encountered anything like it.

"Amity... they were disgusted by us. There are some people here who think love should only exist between a male and a female." Luz explained grimly, avoiding looking at the witch beside her.

"But.. why? What about, any person not of those genders? I don’t see how they can just limit love like that. Or why."

"You don't have homophobia on the Isles then."

"Homo... what?! Is that some kind of human insult?"

Luz chuckled. "Well, yes and no. It just means people who are afraid of same sex couples, but it can extend to the intolerance of anything 'not straight.'"

"Oh... ok. So the fear leads to hatred. And then you get 3 ladies causing a fuss." Amity nodded, finally understanding. "On the Boiling Isles there's so many different sentient species that it never mattered who you loved. "

"Yeah... well here it seems to matter too much."

Both girl's were quiet. Luz had never felt ashamed of who she was, but for those few minutes in the restaurant she was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if they didn't leave.

"Luz?" Amity asked suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me next time something's bothering you like that?"

Luz froze. Amity sounded so hurt. She leaned her head into the crook of her girlfriend's neck and closed her eyes.

"Yeah. I will. I promise."

Amity leaned her head right back into Luz and sighed, content with the answer.

"Thank you."

***

Later that night, before they both went to bed, Luz would curiously check inside the extra box that the man at the counter had slipped her, wondering why it seemed a little bit heavier then the other, empty, boxes.

Inside she'd find a giant cookie and a note written in pen taped to the inside of the lid that read: "Next game the Otter's win, pizza's on us. No old birds or homophobes allowed. :)"

#toh au #the owl house #toh #lumity #hockey au #the owl house au #luz noceda #amity blight

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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Writing/Art Update 10/22/2021

So, this week wasn’t great, but at least I was able to do something. I feel like I tend to write stories in thirds, and I’ve hit the last third of the story. Up until this point, I’d been able to take stuff I had already written and sort of paste it together into a coherent narrative. I think the problem is that, in this last act, I don’t really have enough already written, and I’m just trying to attach paste to paste without enough underlying structure and it is, predictably, not sticking. I decided to take a break from trying to write chronologically, and I’m doing the thing where I say “what scene can I get excited about? What can I write?” As I said, it’s not going super great, but at least I’m getting a little down on the page. I think I wrote about 2k-3k this week.

Some other things working against me:

I say this every week, but I am losing my mind over not having a title. I probably spent more time this week trying to figure out at title than I did thinking about writing, which is turning into a problem. Everything I come up with is either incredibly generic or not really descriptive of the story. The least bad one I have come up with so far, is What We Do with Our Hearts, which is a riff off Byakuya’s poem (”we are beings that do not know/What to do with our hearts”). I like it because it has the same cadence as What We Do in the Shadows, but I do not like it because, as I said, it’s pretty generic. (Is it possible I am having trouble with a title because this is an unfocused trashheap of a story without a strong central narrative? Could be!)

I have been doing a lot of organizing in my house. This is a much more optimistic excuse. Children are clutter-generators at the best of times, and everyone being home for a year and a half built up a lot of clutter in the house, which I am trying to clear out before it’s winter and we’re stuck inside all the time. Also, kids just outgrow stuff, and I’m currently trying to turn their playroom into more of a cozy reading room. I probably could have churned out another 500 words this week if I had spent more hours despondently sitting in front of my computer, but instead, which I didn’t have anything to write, I would Go Deal with the Lego Situation instead.

I keep meaning to do an art tutorial, and I just haven’t. :/

Anyway, sorry for not being very creative this week. Please enjoy this excerpt from Chapter 1, where Renji gets bullied by Byakuya’s tailor.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Rukia stepped forth, her face still facing back into the room. “I don’t care if long sleeves are the big thing this season, if I can’t draw my sword because I can’t find my hands, I’m not wearing it!” She turned and stopped short as she nearly ran into Renji’s chest. Her eyes wandered upward, and she shot him a sly smile. “Abarai Renji. You’re unexpectedly in my house. Again.”

Renji would have liked to stammer out an excuse, but he was too distracted by the fact that Rukia was in her bathrobe. It wasn’t that it was immodest, it covered all the usual parts of her, but it seemed strangely intimate to see her in it. It was a deep plum color, embroidered with lighter purple peonies. It looked very silky. It was probably silk, actually, now that he considered it. Renji stuffed his hands in his hakama slits, and tried, unsuccessfully, not to think about what it would feel like to touch it. He glanced back at Saejima [the footman], who had managed to mostly fade into the woodwork, and did not look at all embarrassed or perturbed to see the lady of the house in her nightwear.

Rukia raised one eyebrow. “Hello? Soul Society calling, is Renji there?”

Renji shook off his daze and tried to focus his eyes on a design in the wallpaper about three inches above Rukia’s head. “Ah, uh, good morning, Rukia, hi.”

“Do you… need me for something?” she asked, one eyebrow quirked up in amusement.

“I’m actually here to see this Koshino guy,” Renji admitted.

“Really?” Rukia asked. “What in Hell for?”

A figure appeared in the doorway, an older gentleman with piercing blue eyes and a perfectly trimmed white mustache. “One hundred, eight-eight centimeters, seventy-eight kilograms, you must be Lieutenant Abarai.”

“I’m him. That’s me, I mean,” Renji blathered.

The man turned his gimlet gaze back on Rukia. “Lady Rukia, you are holding up my ten o’clock. I am on a very tight schedule, so if you hope to have a gown in time for your fete instead of a burlap sack that I pull out of the garbage for you, you will be on your way.”

#writing update #art update

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superfanficnatural · 4 years

Text

Less Than Human

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Male!Reader

Summary: After a homophobic encounter, what you thought was going to be the worst day of your life, turned out to be not so bad when your boyfriend Dean got involved.

A/N: So I wrote this based off of something that happened to me 2 days ago. Everything that is in here is all stuff that actually happened to me, the descriptions, the thought process, the dialogue, everything. Up until the point Dean comes in. Writing this really helped me get through it and no one has to read but I’m putting this out there for anyone it might touch. Also, I’ve changed the names and instead of writing both Turkish then translating, I just wrote it in English. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Homophobic Slurs and Encounter, Angst, Fluff.

Word Count: 4,137

Gif isn’t mine

You never expected it. It was like a car crash that came from your blind zone. Like the underdog team winning the game.

You never expected it.

You woke up one morning on the couch, opening your eyes to notice the room surrounding you. A smile lit up on your face, noticing that you were in your apartment building in Turkey, on vacation. With the virus, being stuck at home back in the US was nothing short of lackluster and dull. Thankfully, the flights had finally opened up and you were able to fly over. You were overjoyed, excited to see your friends and family once again after not seeing them for a year. Your first day was spent unpacking at home and essentially rushing to the neighborhood where most of your friends and family hung out, eager to be able to see them once again. Since then, you had spent every day with your friends, desperately making sure that you were busy all day. They were excited that you had returned as well, all of them waiting on your arrival since you had first bought the plane ticket.

Getting out of bed, your dad was sitting on one of the chairs at the table towards your right.

“Finally awake huh?” he asked, shoving his phone in your face to show the time was 3pm.

You moved the phone out of the way, “Slept at 7am, still got jet lag.”

“Sure,” he simply responded, going back to his phone.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and got up, “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Moving past him and into the corridor, you walked past your father's bedroom and the kitchen to get to the bathroom, going inside and closing the door behind you. As you took your shower, you smiled, already ecstatic to get to your friends once again. You usually loved to take your time and enjoy your shower but your excitement got the best of you, rushing to finish it as you got out and dried yourself off. Clearing the foggy mirror, you grabbed your hairdryer and began to dry out your hair, pushing it in the direction you wanted to style it in. After your hair dried, you grabbed your hair product and spread it across your fingers, applying it to your luscious locks and washing the residue off of your hands.

“Make sure you brush your teeth!” your dad yelled out from behind the door.

With the toothbrush already in your hand, you gave up the argument forming on your lips and got to brushing, getting rid of your morning breath. Getting out of the shower, you walked into your father’s bedroom and threw your towel into the washing machine, walking over to the living room and pausing by the door frame.

“Close your eyes,” you told him, seeing him on the couch on his phone still.

He dramatically sighed, “Ok.”

You walked in, “Not my fault you’re in my ‘room’, maybe go hang out in your own?”

With his eyes still closed he responded, “Not my fault your ‘room’ is the living room.”

“God, you have a response for everything don’t you?” you scoffed.

He didn’t respond as you grabbed a pair of underwear and put them on, telling him that it was ok to open his eyes. Looking around at what you had brought, you had decided to wear your khakis with your white baseball tee, grabbing your black Ray Band glasses from the table and placing it on top of your head, completing your outfit. After putting your wallet and phone into your pocket, you turned to him.

“Ready to go?” you asked.

“Ready,” he got up from the couch and followed you into the hallway, walking up to the front door with you.

As you bent down to put on your shoes, you stalled, “Should I wear the black ones or the white ones?” you asked, wary about what would compliment your outfit.

“Who cares? It’s not like you need to look perfect for paparazzi at every second, you aren’t famous.”

“Well one, ouch. And two, just freaking tell me which one!” you were tired of the little game he had been playing with you all morning.

He dramatically sighed again, “The white ones.”

“Thank you,” you rolled your eyes.

After putting on your shoes, you tied the laces and was just about to close the door before you froze in place, “I forgot my mask and my keys!” you turned back around and ran into the living room, grabbing your mask and keys off of the desk.

As you returned to the front door, your father was looking at you incredulously, “You forgot the two most important things you need?”

You were tired of his sass and noticed that he himself didn’t even have his mask, “Oh really? Well then, where is your mask?”

His face went slightly pale and you began to chuckle, “That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled and walked past you and into his own bedroom, walking back out with his mask in his hand.

“Move your ass! We gotta get going!” you left the door open as you ran down the steps, reaching the bottom floor and opening the front door.

“Oh I’ll move YOUR ass!” he yelled, coming into view as you were laughing.

You held the door open for him, “Ladies first,” you gestured outside the door with your hand.

He smacked the back of your head as he walked out, you closing the door with a scoff. The two of you made your way to where the Taxi’s usually parked, flagging one down and getting in, your dad telling him where to go. As you sat in the back seat, you looked down at your phone to see a text message from one of your friends that worked at your uncle's shop.

Where are you?

It was sent about ten minutes before and you sighed in annoyance, not feeling the buzz in your pocket. As you typed out your response, the instant message of ‘ok’ returned, giving you the impression that he was waiting for you.

As the Taxi ride continued, your father turned back to you slightly, “What are your plans for today?”

“My plans with a few friends got cancelled so I’m probably going to just hang out at the shop with my friends who work there. Maybe call John and see if he wants to hang out,” you responded, remembering that your cousin wanted to meet up.

He nodded and turned back to face the road, your eyes following the movement and noticing that you were almost at your destination. After a few more minutes on the road, the driver stopped as your dad gave him the money for the trip. Getting out of the car, you looked around the familiar neighborhood and turned to face the workplace that you spent most of your days. Your friends were too busy running around to give out orders to notice you, so as you walked up and entered the establishment, they turned to see you and smiled.

“Took you long enough to get here, help us out a bit,” Teddy asked, walking past you with an order to place it on one of the tables.

The workplace was owned by your uncle, a tiny little dessert shop with the sidewalk being used as a sitting place, leaving some room for civilians to walk by as well. Usually when you came to Turkey every summer, you spent your free time working with them, not getting paid but just helping out and gaining some work experience; forming a close relationship with the two men who worked there.

“Can you take these orders out to table three?” Peter asked you, handing you two of the plates with decorated sweets placed utop them.

Grabbing it from his hands, you turned to instantly get to work, your mind going into overdrive to keep up with the orders and customer service. After about an hour, everything had calmed down and the three of you managed to finally sit down.

“So, got any plans for today? Your girlfriend gonna take you out again?” Teddy asked.

You rolled your eyes, “She’s not my girlfriend, and no, I have no plans.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with us,” Peter wrapped his arm around your shoulder with a smile.

You smiled in return, “Looks like.”

From then on, it was actually a really boring day, almost no customers coming by. As you were sitting at one of the tables outside on your phone, Teddy came out with the motorcycle keys in his hand.

“I’m gonna go pick up Anna from the house, I’ll be back soon,” he walked past you and got onto the motorcycle, turning the key in the ignition and speeding off.

You knew he lived close so you wouldn’t have to wait long, turning to see Peter walk out of the store and lean against the frame of the door. You were close with both of them but were closer with Teddy, something about the way your personalities just complimented each others made you grow incredibly close. It might have also helped that he was incredibly attractive, muscular but not too much, his face looking as if it were carved by a master carpenter. You got out your phone, intending to call your cousin to see if he was available before pausing and hovering over his number. Even though he was only a few months younger than you, his immaturity really rubbed you the wrong way and you had trouble spending time with him without lashing out and calling him out on his immature actions. Turning off your phone, you put it into your pocket and let out a sigh, knowing that the rest of the night would be relatively uneventful. You didn’t have to wait long before you saw Teddy speeding down the road with Anna sitting behind him, her smiling at you as the two of you made eye contact. He parked the bike right next to you on the road and turned off the ignition, Anna climbing off before he did.

You got up out of your seat and greeted her, “Hey, Anna! How are you?”

She kissed both of your cheeks before pulling back, “I’m good, just finished work. Took a shower and Teddy came to get me from the house.”

Teddy went back into the store and talked with Peter as you sat down with Anna and began to have a conversation. The hours passed and you had moved around, alternating between sitting down outside and going back into the store to talk with whoever was still inside. Eventually, it was around 10pm where a few other friends had come by and sat down, the store basically empty, allowing all of you to sit down with them. Though, Teddy stayed back inside, something you didn’t pay too much attention to as your concentration was brought back into the conversation to make sure you understood everything they said. The talking flowed freely, the group changing from topic to topic whenever one died out. Eventually, Anna spoke up.

“There was this gay guy who came into my store and I was so weirded out,” she visibly shivered in her seat.

You fought back the urge to furrow your eyebrows and look disgusted, masking it with a smile, “Why were you weirded out?”

She looked at you, “The way he walked,” she moved her hand next to her head in a bent position and angled it to look like she was holding a purse with her palm up, “the way he talked,” she raised her voice an octave and made it sound different.

“Do feminine gay guys weird you out?” you asked, unbelieving that she could have said such a thing.

She laughed, “No!”

You sighed in relief.

“All gay people weird me out, they’re disgusting!” she exclaimed.

It took almost everything in you to not cry and reach over to slap her right across the face. You were frozen in your seat, the sounds of everyone laughing around you fading into the distance as you focused all of your willpower to not crack. The faint calling of your name registered in your ears and it took a few seconds for you to be brought back into reality, looking over to the girl that had just spit venom from her mouth.

“Don’t tell me you think they’re normal?” she asked, a confused look on her face.

You were stuck. Not knowing of whether to come out right there and grill her for her disgusting ideology or to stay quiet, not be a victim of their hurtful words.

“I’m ok with them, they can love whoever they wanna love, it’s none of our business,” you shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant while in fact, you were breaking on the inside.

“You’re kidding right? God didn’t create us so that we can go fuck our own gender, all of them are gonna go to Hell,” one of the men spat.

You stayed quiet, not wanting to add anything more and simply just unable to even form words. They went around, swapping stories of their encounters with the ‘faggots’ and ‘the less than human’, all of them laughing at the snide remarks they added to their stories. All the while you sat there, taking it all without a single response. It felt like an endless barrage, an attack that had no end in sight. Your heart and your brain were at odds, your brain telling you to keep quiet so you won’t be the victim, and your heart telling you to silence them. In the end, your brain won, a stupid sense of wanting to keep your friends taking over your thoughts and feelings. It went on and on for what seemed like forever, their laughs haunting you like a nightmare, for you were sure to have many of them moving forward. Hearing homophobic statements and slurs your entire life, you thought that you had gotten used to it. But being reminded that you would always be seen as less than human, a stain on existence, a waste of space, wasn’t something that was easy to move forward from; especially to hear it from those you thought were your friends.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and you stood up from your seat, telling everyone that it was late and you had to be home. After wearing a fake smile and saying goodbye to everyone, you left and got into the nearest taxi, choking out your address from your tightened throat. The entire ride home, you didn’t cry, didn’t make any noise. You simply sat there, staring out the front windshield, watching the world pass you by in your seat. You didn’t even pay attention, your eyes still playing the scene from before on repeat. Before you knew it, the taxi had come to a halt, the driver telling you how much you owed. After fishing out enough money from your pocket, you gave it to him and got out of the car, slamming the door a bit too hard. You got out your phone and noticed that you got a text message from your dad.

I’m going to be staying at your uncle’s house tonight, be safe.

You didn’t even bother replying as you yanked out the keys from your pocket and unlocked the door, walking up the stairs to your apartment and going inside. You took off your shoes and walked into the living room, throwing your keys and wallet on the table, getting out your phone and throwing it on the couch, placing yourself onto it as well. You sat there in silence, tears streaming down your face as you stared at the wall, the scene from before still repeating. It was as if the wall was having a projector aimed towards it, a movie of what had happened being played in front of you.

You were pulled out of your ‘movie’ by the buzzing of your phone next to you, the name of your boyfriend lighting up on your screen. You reached over and looked at the call for a few moments longer, trying to void yourself of emotion before answering.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey yourself, how are you?” your other half responded from the other side of the line.

“I’m alright, how are you?” you forced a smile on your face, trying to make your voice come out chirpy.

“Nothin much, there was no hunt so Sam was in the library all day while I was missing you in my bedroom,” Dean responded, a twinkle in his voice that normally would have made your heart rate increase and a blush to spread across your face.

Instead, the reminder of your sexual orientation did nothing but make you choke on a sob as you covered your mouth so he wouldn’t hear.

“Y/N? Babe are you ok?” he rushed out, a worried tone coming through clearly, indicating that he in fact did hear you.

You couldn’t even respond, trying to hold in the noises your throat was threatening to release.

“Y/N?! Y/N, what’s going on?” he pressed, a shuffling noise coming through on the phone.

You knew that if you stayed on the line that he would know you were crying so you hung up, gently placing your phone besides you as your body racked with sobs. Suddenly, a sound of wings flapping entered your ears. As you looked up from the ground, you saw Dean and Cas standing in the middle of the room, Dean instantly rushing up to you as Cas flew away. His arms wrapped around you in lightning speed and the feeling of his warm embrace served to make you sob even harder, your hands flying up and holding onto the lapels of his flannel for dear life.

“I’m here, everything is alright,” he soothed, gently rubbing your back and holding the back of your head close.

Your entire body was rocking with the force of your sobs, your eyes clenched tightly as your emotions flowed through you, forming into small droplets of liquid and pouring from your eyes.

After crying out everything that you could, you slowly pulled away from each other and you looked into his eyes to see nothing but concern and love in them.

“What’s going on? Talk to me,” he whispered softly, grabbing your hands with his own and bringing them up to his mouth to lay a gentle kiss.

You smiled through your tears, “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course I would come, my boyfriend isn’t allowed to be sad without me being there to make him happy again,” you knew Dean always struggled with finding the right words to say in moments like these but you severely appreciated hearing them nonetheless.

You instantly told him about what had happened, pausing at some points to collect yourself and get through the entire story. Throughout your explanation, you could see Dean getting more and more furious, his green eyes hiding a bright red fire behind them. As you came to the end of your story, you wiped a few tears from your eyes and looked to Dean, noticing that he closed his own, perilously trying to keep his anger at bay.

He opened his eyes after a few moments, “What do you say we put on a movie and I go get some comfort food?”

You expected him to yell out and say he was going to go kill them so you were surprised by the soft tone he spoke with.

“Uh, yeah, yeah that sounds perfect,” you mustered up a smile.

He grinned softly at you, “I’ll be back soon.”

Dean walked out of the room and exited the apartment, praying for Cas to come.

As Cas arrived, “Dean, what is it?”

“I can understand Turkish completely but I can’t speak it fluently, I need you to do some mojo and allow me to,” he requested from the Angel.

He solemnly nodded, already knowing exactly what happened. He walked up and placed two fingers on his forehead, his eyes and fingers flashing a bright light before he pulled away, “I moved the language to the forefront of your thoughts so you should be able to speak it easily now.”

“Thanks, also, I need you to fly me to Y/N’s workplace, I’m sure they’re still there and I need to have a few words with them.”

Cas nodded once again and placed his hand on his shoulder, flying them over in light speed.

Taking a look around, Dean noticed that they were across the street from the group you were with before, still chatting away in the same position they were in before, “Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for Cas to respond before marching across the street and coming to stand at the front of the table, looking down at everyone sitting there.

“Can we help you?” one of the men asked.

He smiled sarcastically, “Yeah, there’s a few things I need to discuss with you.”

He reached down and grabbed the man, picking him up and slamming him down on the table, so hard in fact, that the table had broken and everyone in their seats rushed to get up and out of the way. They all turned to Dean and while Anna took a few steps back, the rest of the men got ready to start throwing punches. Even though there were still three left, Dean was both confident in his abilities, and confident that he would beat the living hell out of them for what they did to you. The closest one ran up and swung at him, Dean blocking it easily and clocking him across the jaw, the bone breaking underneath his fist. He dropped to the floor instantly and the remaining men froze in fear before snapping back and continuing the fight. They decided that attacking him at once would increase their chances at success, and while that would normally work, Dean wasn’t some novice fighter. He expertly blocked all of their attacks and purposefully hit them in places that wouldn’t knock them out, wanting them to physically feel the pain that you emotionally felt. After getting bored, he blocked their coordinated punch and grabbed their heads, slamming them together and instantly putting them to sleep.

Turning to his right, he noticed Anna immobile, stuck in place with her terrified gaze fixated on Dean’s angry one. He slowly stalked up to her before deciding against doing anything physical, still having a sense of what was right and wrong before slowly returning his arm at his side.

“The things you said to Y/N was fucking disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself,” his perfect accent and word choice struck him by surprise but he continued. “How dare you hate someone for their preference in love? They love the same goddamn way you love, live the same way you live,” he curled his nose in disgust. “They have the right to do whatever the fuck they want, just like you do. And for them going to Hell? I’ve been there sweetheart,” he sneered, “I already know you have a place down there just waiting for you.”

Her scared expression was getting worse and worse from every word he spoke and he was reveling in it. He had gone there for you but also for himself, he was attracted to his own gender as well and hearing what they said angered him. He decided that enough was enough and walked back across the street to Cas, asking him to take him to a restaurant that had your favorite food. After picking it up, he asked Cas for one last favor of the night, to fly him to where you were.

Once Cas had ‘dropped him off’, he went inside with the key he had snagged before leaving and went up to your apartment, opening the door and walking in to see you with a movie ready to play.

“Hey, you took a bit and I was getting worried,” you got up from your seat and went to hug him, pulling away for him to pull you into a deep kiss.

Not seeing him for a while was really starting to affect you, and with the day that you had, that kiss was more than enough to help you get through it. You both pulled away with smiles on your faces, your hand intertwining with his, no marks of a fight on them thanks to Cas.

You sat down with him and ate, watching the movie together and sharing a few kisses here and there. You had never expected what had happened earlier that day, but thanks to Dean, you knew you were going to be alright.

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx @flamencodiva @impala-1979 @talesmaniac89 @winchest09 @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons @waywardbeanie @anathewierdo @janicho88 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean

Male Reader Tag List: @beka-dreamer @brymalibu @myybebe @kingreidx @spnfanboy777

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fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 · 3 years

Text

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes Pt. 2

Okay, so here’s part two for the fic that I wrote a while back for @ringa-starr! If you have not read the first part, you can find it by searching up masterlist on my blog! As always, gif and characters are not mine. I hope you all enjoy it!

Description: Bill continues his search for Y/N, but her evil step mother and sisters plan to make sure that the two never meet again

Warnings: none that I can think of

The next morning after the ball was over, Bill set out with a group of his best soldiers to find Y/N. However, the kingdom was very vast, and while he could distinctly remember Y/N’s beauty, Bill and his soldiers would have to check every single house. Of course this came with the challenges of each girl claiming that they were Y/N, but Bill knew that none of them were his one true love.

As the day passed on, Bill’s hopes began to dwindle more and more. Ted rode up beside him. “Don’t look so down my most excellent friend,” Ted said, “I’m sure that Y/N will be at this next house.”

Bill tried to form a smile despite the worry and confusion he felt inside his heart. “You’re probably right, Ted. I just hope that the girl I met wasn’t just a dream.”

The last house was the one that Y/N was in, but all traces of her had been thoroughly removed from the house. Lady Tremaine had discovered the torn dress that Y/N had hidden away in her dresser, and made sure that she had dresses made to look exactly like the one Y/N had worn to the ball.

“Did you really think that you would have a happy ending? You are nothing more than a servant,” Lady Tremaine hissed as she glared at Y/N.

“I’m not just a servant! I’m a human being, and I deserve happiness just as much as anyone else,” Y/N screamed as she stood up to face her evil stepmother. However, her harsh remark was met with a slap across her cheek.

“Please, stop pretending. This isn’t a fairytale. You are to remain up her when the prince arrives, and if you speak a single word to try and get his attention, you will be sorry for it.”

“No, wait please-,” Y/N begged as she tried to scramble to her feet, but Lady Tremaine was already out the door, and it locked shut with a click. Y/N fell to her knees as tears began to fall from her eyes. She got up and sat in the window sill. Maybe if I can’t be with him, at least I can see him one last time, Y/N thought as she looked out passed the gate of her home.

Bill and his escorts arrived at the house, and Bill clutched the small piece of fabric from Y/N’s dress in her hand. He felt in his gut that this had to be Y/N’s home, and he would search every nook and cranny in order to find her. Lady Tremaine greeted Bill at the door and escorted him inside. All the while Y/N looked on from the window of her room. “As you can see,” Lady Tremaine stated as she gestured towards her daughters that were sitting in the parlor, “These are clearly the girls you are looking for. The dresses are made from the same fabric that you have in your hand.”

“Actually, I’m looking for one girl. She is the most beautiful babe that I have ever seen, and neither of these girls look like the one I saw that night,” Bill corrected.

“Is there anyone else in the house,” Ted asked Lady Tremaine.

“No, it’s just me and my two lovely daughters,” Lady Tremaine asserted.

Bill’s heart felt like it was breaking, and Ted placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Bill. She’s not here. I’m sorry, dude.”

Bill only nodded his head as he followed Ted out of the home. While they were leaving, Y/N decided to put on her mother’s dress one last time, and while it was torn, it still brought her some comfort. She then moved back over to the window and began to sing.

Little did she know that Bill and Ted were standing outside, and they both heard every word of Y/N’s beautiful song. “I think that bodacious babe you met is in the house after all,” Ted exclaimed. The blonde and the brunette glanced up at the house, and Bill’s icy blue eyes met with Y/N’s E/C ones.

Bill ran back into the house and demanded that Lady Tremaine release Y/N from the room she was stuck in. Lady Tremaine did as she was told, for she did not want to upset the prince. However, as Y/N made her way out of her room, Lady Tremaine snatched her wrist in an ice cold grip.

“Remember your place,” Lady Tremaine snarled into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N simply ignored Lady Tremaine’s words as she was escorted by Ted into the main parlor. When Bill and Y/N’s eyes met for the second time that day, it was like their first meeting all over again. Ted cleared his throat in order to bring the two out of their love-struck gaze. “Is your name Y/N,” Ted questioned.

“Yes,” Y/N said. Before Ted could continue asking questions, Bill interrupted him. “I know that this is the women that I saw that night. I could never forget a babe as beautiful as she is,” Bill stated with a smile.

Y/N smiled back at the prince, but her nerves began to get the better of her. “I’m not the princess that you met that night. Will you still accept me for who I am,” she asked. Bill eagerly nodded his head in response. Upon further comparing the ripped piece of fabric that Bill had to Y/N’s torn dress, it further confirmed that Y/N was the woman that Bill had met at the ball.

Bill walked towards Y/N, a smile still gracing his features, and he presented Y/N with an elegant wedding ring. “Y/N, would you do me the most excellent honor of becoming my wife?”

Y/N of course agreed in an instance, for she knew that there was no one else in the kingdom that she would rather spend her life with. The newly engaged couple was escorted outside to the waiting carriage, and they left an angry Lady Tremaine and two upset step sisters in their wake.

We all know how the story ends from here. Y/N and Bill marry each other, making Y/N a princess after all. Lady Tremaine and her daughters became outcasts, and eventually left the kingdom. Despite the pain that Y/N had went through, she was glad to have the curly-haired blonde by her side, and the two of them lived happily ever after.

#bill x reader #bill s preston esquire x reader #bill s preston #bill and teds excellent adventure #bill and ted #x reader #fluff #fanfic

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

Text

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Chapter 5

Gwilym!Prince Charming x Reader

Summary: After losing your parents, your step-family makes your life impossible. That is, until Prince Gwilym holds a ball. It’s your one chance for everything to change.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @queen-paladin, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf, @namelesslosers, @headl0ng, @captvianswaan, @folietracksix, @baltimoresweethearts, @killer-queen-87, @haileymoreolikestupid, @itsametaphorgwil, @misslolasworld, @whitequeen-ofwillowgreen

A/N: It’s the grand finale! Thank you again for all the lovely responses to this fic! I can’t believe I’m almost done with the Disney AUs already! also i barely proofread this because i was so excited to post it so if you see a typo no you didnt

Warning(s): brief descriptions of abuse

Moodboard

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 here we go!!!

Frank and his daughters came home about an hour after you did. You were already back in your servant clothes and waiting by the door. You took their cloaks and bags, and began hanging them on the rack in the main hall.

“How was your night?” you asked politely.

“It was a splendid evening, Y/N,” Frank answered. “More than you could ever hope for.”

“I’m sure it was,” you returned, holding back a smirk. If only he knew.

“I’m relieved to see you have not stolen anything else from my wife’s closet,” he sneered.

You shook your head. “No, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve been thoroughly educated.”

“Very good,” he said, seeming displeased that he couldn’t goad you.

But nothing could spoil this night. It was perfect.

“Is there anything you need before going to bed?” you asked.

“I’m fine, but you’ll of course help the girls get changed,” he said.

You nodded again. “Absolutely.”

He watched you suspiciously as you followed your step sisters up the stairs. You were calm. Too calm. And you were humming, which you didn’t normally do. Plus the tune was something he had heard somewhere - but no event would have had you in attendance. His frown deepened. Something was up.

***

Gwilym returned to the palace two hours later, empty handed and broken-hearted. Rami and Ben were waiting on the steps for him, but as he walked up, he only shook his head. They sighed, disappointed for their friend. Thankfully, the remaining guests had all gone home.

“Sorry, mate,” Ben said.

“There was no sign of her?” Rami asked.

“No,” Gwilym said. “Even the carriage tracks just seemed to disappear. It was like she just vanished.”

“So, all we’ve got to go on is the shoe?” Ben wondered, holding it up.

Gwilym had only entrusted his best friends with it, and they had kept it from his father.

“It’s made of glass,” Gwilym said. “Which means it only fits her.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Rami asked. “Try the shoe on every woman in the kingdom?”

“Only the single women,” Gwilym said, as if it were obvious.

Rami and Ben shared a surprised look.

“I hope you’re joking,” Ben said.

“Far from it,” Gwilym replied. “I’m going to find that girl, and I’m going to marry her.”

Rami sighed. “Very well, then. But let’s start in the morning.”

“Thank you both,” Gwilym said, relieved. They had every reason to leave now. Both had duties at home, and had done what was socially expected. With the ball over, there was no obligation to stay. “Really.”

“Of course we’re gonna help you,” Ben said. “But I’m with Rami. Starting tomorrow.”

“You guys go on up, I’ll be right behind you,” Gwilym insisted.

His friends shrugged, but did as he requested and went inside. Gwilym remained, holding that glass piece of you carefully in the crook of his arm. He looked out into the night sky, hoping somehow you could feel his desperation.

“I am coming for you, my darling,” he said quietly.

***

You yawned as the sun peered into your room through your curtains. You were feeling unusually light this morning. Like you were still floating just above the ballroom floor. With a contented sigh, you stretched and forced yourself out of bed. Frank and the girls would be needing their breakfast soon, but you knew you had a little extra time today. They’d certainly have a bit of a lie in after the late night.

You threw your dress and apron on. You did a spin around your room, giggling as you imagined Gwilym there with you. Then you had to slow to a stop. It was a fantasy, nothing more. One glorious night. But now it was time to return to reality and your true life. Still, you could cling to the dream for one morning.

Humming to yourself, you put the pot on to boil and began prepping plates for breakfast. You set a pan atop the stove to start some sausages when you heard the jingle of a bell. You looked at the wall. It was coming from Eleanor’s room, so you guessed she was up. You asked Elsie to start the food and went back upstairs to get your step sister dressed. When you reached the landing, you saw Frank emerging from his room, already dressed.

“Good morning,” you said kindly.

“Y/N, what did you get up to last night?” he asked.

“Why, nothing, sir,” you said. “I cleaned up, as you instructed, changed clothes, and got a head start on some other chores. When those were done, I occupied myself by reading.”

He seemed skeptical. “I see. I hope you weren’t reading anything too fanciful. You mustn’t fill your mind with...unrealistic dreams and fantasies.”

Your brow furrowed with confusion. What was he implying?

“No, sir,” you said. “I try to keep everything practical.”

“Good,” he said. “Now get to work.”

You nodded, a bit perplexed, but continued into Eleanor’s room.

***

In the morning, Gwilym was the first up. He hardly slept at all. He wrote a decree for his father to send out, that he and Ben and Rami would be making the rounds through town and the countryside to find the owner of the missing shoe. They would begin today, and search until the prince had found his lost love.

To his shock, the king agreed to this. He read over it at the breakfast table, nodding at each point. The ladies were to try on the shoe and if it fit, it must be the girl who Gwilym met at the ball.

“Very well,” he said. “You’ll begin today?”

“Yes,” Gwilym said. “I want to find her as soon as possible.”

“Alright, son,” the king replied. He looked at the prince and offered a sincere smile. “And best of luck.”

Gwilym beamed. “Thank you, Father!”

And so, they began their search within the palace, where the out of town noble guests were staying. Gwilym had his doubts about those girls because he met them before you even came through the door. But he knew everyone deserved a fair chance. When the shoe fit none of those women, they made their way into town, with a few guards along for protection.

***

Frank received a letter from the palace early in the morning. He looked it over and you saw a flash of...something cross his face. You couldn’t place the emotion though. It seemed almost like a glimmer of hope. His eyes glanced over at you before quickly turning to his daughters.

“Girls, get yourselves looking nice,” he said. “We’ll be having visitors from the palace this afternoon.”

“The palace?” you questioned, without meaning to, but you could hardly help yourself.

“Yes, but that isn’t any of your business, Y/N,” he snapped. “Get my daughters ready and then proceed with your chores as usual. You are not to make your presence known while the visitors are here.”

You nodded apologetically. As you made your way back to the kitchen, you wondered if the visitors Frank referred to could be Gwilym and his father. Was he looking for you? Something in your heart told you he was, but you hardly even dared to hope. Such a thing was the stuff of dreams. And yet, the ball seemed like a dream too, but it was as real as the tea kettle you carried. You began devising a plan.

As the day wore on, you completed your chores quickly. You wanted to prepare yourself as well. Your gut was telling you Gwilym was on his way to take you away from here. And you had all the proof you needed in that slipper that was hidden beneath your bed. So when you finished sweeping the entrance hall, you ran up to your room to get it. Only, when you opened your door, you came to an abrupt stop. Frank was sitting on your bed, holding the slipper by the heel. One wrong move of his fingers and it would fall, risking a break.

“Well, well, well,” he said darkly. “I had a feeling you had made your way to the ball. You’ve been far too dreamy to have had as dull a night as you claim.”

Your heart rate quickened.

“That’s mine,” you said, feeling childish as the words left your mouth. “It was given to me.”

Frank laughed humorlessly. “Oh, likely story. I suppose this is another one of my wife’s things you stole.”

“You cannot stop me from this,” you said, ignoring the accusation. “The prince loves me.”

“Against his better judgement, I believe that’s true,” he admitted.

You blinked, surprised at your step father’s nonchalance about this. Did that mean he would accept it? No. There had to be something else he was getting at.

“As it is, though,” he said. “You’re spoken for.”

You frowned as your stomach dropped.

“What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, getting to his feet and straightening his jacket with his free hand. “And mine alone.”

A chill ran down your spine. Was he really saying what you thought he was saying?

“I’m not a slave, Frank,” you said. “I am free to do this.”

“I do not intend to make you my slave,” he said. “I intend to make you my wife.”

Your body went rigid as the blood ran out of your face. The very idea made your stomach churn. The thought of being his wife, sharing his bed, bearing his children...you nearly heaved right there in front of him.

“No,” you said firmly. “I won’t.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” he said.

“It’s sick!” you cried. “I’m your daughter!”

“Step daughter,” he said. “I will have this estate, Y/N. You will do for me what your mother could not. My son will be the true and rightful heir, and start a new line.”

“Are you not happy with the children you have?” you wondered, completely rocked to your core. “Why do you insist on a son?”

“Sons are the only useful offspring,” he scoffed. “Daughters are just mouths to feed until you can marry them off, and even then, what’s theirs will never belong to their family. It belongs to their husbands. Well, I am not going to lose everything because my previous wives were too weak to give me what I want.”

“I will not,” you refused again. “I’ll run away.”

“And leave behind your home?” he taunted. “The one your father built so lovingly with your mother?”

“It will no longer be a home to me if I am trapped in such a marriage,” you said.

“I’m not giving you a choice, Y/N,” he sighed. “I’ll keep eyes on you everywhere, I’ll lock you in your room, whatever it takes. Or, you can submit to me now and become mistress of this house as you were born to be.”

“I’ll die before I marry you,” you spat. “I’ll die before I bear any child of yours. I’ll -”

“No need to go on,” he said. He was being alarmingly calm about this. “I know the rest. But you will marry me, Y/N. You will have my son, and you’ll do it all without complaint. Just as you have with everything I have ever given you.”

You blinked again. So everything he’d put you through was a test? A way to manipulate you into obeying his every command? He was...grooming you? Your stomach gave another lurch.

“But first,” he said. “We will need to squash your dreams of Prince Gwilym.”

“What do you -”

He cut off your question by hurling your slipper into the wall. It shattered with a crash, which drowned out your anguished cry. You sank to your knees, hopeless.

“There now,” he said. “I’m only teaching you the harsh lesson of reality.”

Tears fell freely down your cheeks. You heard loud knocking at the front door, but barely registered it.

“That’ll be him,” Frank said.

You snapped to your senses and started to rise for one last desperate escape attempt, but Frank was faster. You felt the blow of his palm against your cheek before you even saw it coming. You fell to the ground, face throbbing. You wanted to scream, or cry, or swing back at him, but you were completely numb from the shock. You couldn’t feel anything but the sting on your skin.

“Do not resist me again, Y/N,” Frank warned.

With that, he walked out of your room, and you heard him turn the lock. You were trapped. You curled into a ball on your floor and wept quietly.

***

Gwilym was relieved when the door finally opened. This was the last house of the day. He saw a man there, whose smile was...unconvincing to say the least. He bowed.

“We are happy to see you, Prince Gwilym,” he said. “I am Frank Tarleton, and I believe one of my daughters is the girl you’re searching for.”

Gwilym raised a brow. “But you don’t know which?”

Frank blinked, taken aback, and then laughed an empty sort of laugh. “Good one, your highness. Please, come in.”

Gwilym looked at Ben and Rami who both shrugged. They followed Frank inside and into the drawing room, where two young women sat on the couch, looking nervous. Ben explained everything, with Frank nodding eagerly along. Something about the man struck Gwilym as slimy. He was too polite, too eager to please, and it seemed even his own daughters were made uncomfortable by him. Gwilym sighed.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled.

He was beginning to lose hope. Who was left, if not these girls? And yet, neither of them struck him as the one he was looking for.

***

You listened carefully at your door, not daring to make any more noise. If Frank returned, he might do worse than strike you. But you could listen to what was happening downstairs.

It was a bit maddening to hear, though. To be so close to Gwilym now, and yet so far. To be a prisoner now in your own home was worse than being a servant. And the worst part was seeing the proof of your identity lying in pieces beside you. You felt like the slipper. Broken. Completely in pieces. Like your dreams too.

You heard the front door open and close again. You went to your window and watched Gwilym mount his horse, his friends on either side of him, and trot away toward town. Was that truly the last time you would see your love?

It couldn’t be. Now, you could hear Frank’s familiar footsteps coming back up the stairs. You knew you had to make a break for it as soon as he opened the door. You braced yourself. You had no time to pack anything, no time to grab money or valuables. You would have to break away with nothing but the clothes on your back and a prayer.

You watched the doorknob turn, feeling as if everything was in slow motion. It creaked slowly open and Frank’s body appeared in the door frame. He reached for you, but you ducked under his arm, darted down the hall, flew down the stairs, and straight out the front door.

You ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even daring to look back to see if Frank was in pursuit. You just hurtled toward town, hoping that anyone could help you. You would give up your home, and everything you knew - you would even give up your life - before marrying Frank. You had to escape, even if it meant becoming a beggar.

You burst through the back door of the tavern, tears streaming down your cheeks, and chest heaving. Flying through the kitchen, you threw open the doors to the dining area and found Zelda behind the bar. She looked up at the commotion you were making, took in the sight of you, and her brow furrowed.

“Zelda, please!” you cried, frantic. “I need help!”

You went to her, and she took you in her arms.

“Y/N, what’s -”

She didn’t get to finish her question before Frank came barreling through. He must not have been far behind. You let out a scream. Zelda pushed you behind her and you cowered at her back. She put her arms out to shield you further.

“Zelda, remove yourself if you know what’s good for you,” Frank threatened.

“Don’t, Zelda, please!” you begged. “Don’t let him take me! He’s going to force me to marry him! Please!”

She stiffened in front of you. “Oh, no you don’t, Frank. I will not stand by and let you do this.”

“Stand back or you’re fired,” he warned.

“I don’t care,” she shot back. “I won’t let you have her!”

“I’m afraid it’s not up to you,” he returned harshly.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to move her, but Zelda was a stout woman with considerable strength. She resisted him, taking hold of his biceps and forcing him back several steps. Her advantage was clearly gained by the element of surprise.

“Run, Y/N!” she cried. “Get out of here!”

Panicked, you leapt over the counter and wrenched the door open. You threw yourself out of it, trying to ignore the sounds of the struggle behind you. You darted into the street and sprinted as fast as you could away from the tavern. You had no idea where you would go from here - but you could not stay and be forced into a lifetime of Frank.

You glanced back. To your horror, you saw that Frank was emerging from the tavern and had spotted you right away. With a gasp, you turned back around and sped up. Only, as you turned, you didn’t realize what was in front of you. You ran right smack into a man’s back. The force of the collision put you on your rear in the dirt.

Wincing, you looked up. Your jaw dropped. It was Gwilym!

He met your gaze and froze as well. For a moment, you were both back at the ball, when he’d come up to you on the stairs and asked you to dance. He recognized you instantly.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

You opened your mouth to respond, but a sudden stinging on your scalp caused you to cry out instead. Frank had fisted his hand around your hair and dragged you to your feet.

“Your highness!” he gasped, noticing Gwilym. “I do apologize. My servant here has forgotten her manners.” He looked at you and continued through gritted teeth. “And her place.”

He yanked your hair on the last word for extra emphasis. Gwilym’s chest tightened as he watched Frank manhandle you. He briefly imagined himself drawing his sword and plunging it right into Frank’s chest, but he refrained.

“Release her,” he ordered.

Frank looked at the prince, bewildered.

“I’m sorry?” he questioned.

Gwilym’s expression darkened. “I told you to release her.”

Frank hesitated.

“Now!” Gwilym shouted.

You relaxed when Frank finally let go. Your scalp still itched with soreness. You desperately wanted to throw yourself into Gwilym’s arms but you were still afraid of what Frank might do. You did take a cautious step back.

“Your highness, I’m dealing with an unruly servant girl,” Frank said. “But she is mine and I may do with her as I please.”

Your lip trembled and you shook your head.

“That’s not true,” you sobbed. “You know it’s not, I’m your step daughter and you’re forcing me to -”

“SILENCE!” Frank roared, and raised his hand.

You shrieked and covered your face with your arms. But the blow didn’t come. You peeked out, lowering your shield just barely. Gwilym had taken hold of Frank’s wrist. Rami and Ben, who you just noticed being present, both had their hands on their swords. Now was your chance.

“Don’t let him take me back,” you begged again. “Please, your highness, don’t let him.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Zelda trotting up the street. She halted when she took in the scene before her.

“Sir Tarleton,” Gwilym said, releasing Frank’s arm. “We were at your home and I asked you if you had any more women residing there besides your daughters. You lied.”

“It wasn’t a lie, really,” Frank argued. “Just an omission. You see, there’s no way this girl was at the ball when I forbid her from going.”

“If that’s true, then you are still in trouble,” Gwilym said. “All eligible maidens were to attend.”

“She’s only a servant -”

“I know you’re lying, Tarleton,” Gwilym interrupted. “Now stand down.”

Frank stepped away from the prince, shooting glances between him and you. Gwilym turned to Ben.

“The slipper please, Ben,” he said.

“No!” Frank protested, starting toward you, but Rami stopped him.

Ben handed Gwilym the slipped you’d left behind on the staircase. You wiped your cheeks, clearing away the dirt and tears, and held your prince’s gaze. You smiled at him.

“I knew you were the girl from the tavern,” he said gently. “I knew I recognized you.”

“And the cemetery,” you reminded him.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I remember.”

“How did someone like you even notice someone like me?” you wondered, amazed.

“Because you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he told you simply. “Inside and out. And from that moment in the cemetery I saw what you truly are - a princess.”

You flushed, looking bashfully at the ground.

“I’m not really a -”

“Maybe not by birth,” he said. “But in heart.”

You met his eyes again. Those eyes that from the first time you saw them, told you the kindness of this man’s soul.

He knelt down onto one knee, holding out the slipper. It made you ache for the lost one Frank smashed, but you were relieved that you had left one behind at the palace. You toed off your boot and raised your leg. Ben stepped closer to help you balance and you shot him a grateful look. Then, you slid your delicate foot into the glass slipper. It fit perfectly.

Gwilym’s face lit up like a firework. Ben let go of your hand as Gwilym laughed, took you up in his arms and spun you around. You giggled with joy as well. He lowered you gently to the ground.

“Now, will you please tell me your name?” he asked.

You chuckled. “It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, and cupped your cheek in his palm. “How beautiful.”

“No!” Frank shouted again, and this time Rami had to grab him to stop him. “No! You cannot take her from me!”

“The girl does not belong to you,” Gwilym said sternly. He turned and faced Frank. “I see very clearly now that you have been mistreating her. She is free to choose whatever she likes.”

“I’m her father!” Frank insisted.

“Step father,” you said. Then you looked up at Gwilym. “I choose you, my love.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Sir Tarleton, you’ll be taken into custody.”

Frank’s eyes went wide as the guards moved to take him from Rami. They clapped iron rings around his wrists. He seemed too shocked to struggle.

“Take him to the dungeon to await trial for his crimes,” Gwilym instructed. He faced you again. “And you, my darling, may come with me to the palace.”

“For how long?” you wondered.

“Forever, if you wish it,” he assured you.

“I could hardly wish for more,” you said happily.

He took your hand and helped you onto his horse. Together, you headed for safety, and building a life together. In true love.

***

You and Gwilym married as soon as possible. The whole kingdom was thrilled at the wedding. Frank was tried and convicted for his abuse, but would not serve a life sentence, so instead of prison, he was banished from the kingdom. Even so, early in your marriage to Gwilym, you frequently had nightmares where your stepfather returned.

Gwilym was as loving and patient a partner as you could hope for. He let you talk through your trauma, and he made sure to never do anything that caused you fear. His support helped you to truly heal.

Your step sisters had to move from the estate, which was now yours entirely. Eleanor and Miranda were surprisingly happy to take over their father’s first business, the tavern, which they ran successfully with Zelda. They both eventually found merchant husbands and lived peacefully, and you were genuinely happy for them.

But the greatest joy Gwilym ever gave you was your children. You had two boys and two girls, and they were the light of the whole kingdom’s eye - but especially the king, who lived a long and healthy life with his grandchildren. You had no other description for your life besides happily ever after.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x you #Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #brian may x you #bohrap imagine #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #a dream is a wish your heart makes series

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obsidianfr3sk · 3 years

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five valentine’s day that went wrong and one that (almost) didn’t

@queercreators event 02: romance — [ five valentine’s day that went wrong and one the (almost) didn’t ] [ “Five Things” Fic ] “

dedicated to my dear Reneweys [ @nodrianbcyes @honey-hippie-harper @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @bluenoctuary-art @everyone-has-a-nightmare ] ♡

Summary: They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.Boy, he would like to see someone try.

AO3

Well, hello there!!! It’s been a while since the last time I posted something x’d I know I always say the same thing but it’s true skjdfhkjdfs I started this fic during the first week of febreary when I had this shot of adrenaline and started to do a lot of creative stuff, and originally I wanted to post this during Valentine’s Day, but... the shot of adrenaline passed x’d and let me to deal with this alone.

As you can see for the description, this a “Five Thing” fic. At first I wanted to post each chapter seperately, but idk, it seem a little bit... weird x’d so, here in Tumblr, the six chapters are all in one post. If you don’t like the format, but want to read the fic, you can find it on AO3! Don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment if you liked it:’)

Now... I’m not used to write happy sttuf in general x’d AND I’M LESS USED TO WRITE HAPPY STUFF ABOUT HUGH AND SIMON BECAUSE SKJDFHKJDSF the angst, dudes:))) but I think I did. Like... I actually wrote a fluffy fic:’) I’m so proud of myself dkjfhkfdshjk

Tag list: @the-lady-with-the-pen @chiyuki-hiro @all-weather-is-bad @styeenza

First try

Year 2

It was the second Valentine's Day after the beginning of the Age of Anarchy, and the capacity that the human being had to adapt themselves to the most terrible of conditions never ceased to amaze him. The economy had collapsed, the government had fallen, his school was practically one of the last ones still in open, and there was a “fucking junkie” ruling the city...

But the world celebrated Valentine's Day anyway.

Or at least in his class did.

The teacher had brought a bunch of cardboard boxes, that looked like she had fought with some tramps to get them (which she probably did, they were too many boxes for one person to generate) (unless she was a crazy person who collected boxes). She gave one to each one of her students, took out the last bottles of paint, pieces of colored cardboard, and rusty scissors, and then told them that today they were going to learn how to make a mailbox.

At first, Hugh had no idea what turning a box into a mailbox had to do with the curriculum the school was supposed to follow. It's not like people sent a lot of letters anyway. But when the girls got excited, he remembered that February 14 was something like an important date. And then, he remembered an activity that they did during his first year, when everyone decorated a box for their classmates to put letters and sweets in it.

First year… And now he was in his third year.

Time flies by.

After telling them which parts to cut into (Hugh had to share his scissors with other three classmates because there weren't enough for everyone), she invited them to pick the decorations they wanted to put on their mailboxes. The girls pounced on the pink, red, and even white paint, while most of the boys laughed, saying it was a stupid activity and they didn't want to do it. Hugh felt the urge to agree, but he didn't

He had already tried to make them like him. It hadn't worked for him.

So he grabbed a bottle of navy blue paint, some cartoon bear stickers, some notebook paper, and a bitten pencil. That would be enough to make his mailbox and his cards.

After a while, he started to have a good time. Crafts had never been his strong suit, but he was proud of how it ended up looking. One couldn’t tell his mailbox used to be a cereal box because the paint he used was so dark, that it only needed two coats of it and it dried much faster than Abernathy’s, who had practically finished the pink paint trying to hide the face of that missing child in the milk carton box the teacher gave to her. Hugh realized that she was holding her tears back, and as the good classmate that he was, he told her not to worry, that the missing child could be decoration if she painted him a mustache or something, and it would look very funny. Abernathy, far from finding it funny, acted super offended, assuring she had never met a child as rude and insensitive as Hugh Everhart, and she ran out of the classroom, hiding her face in her hands and screaming like a baby.

Unfortunately, the rest of his class agreed with her, and when it came time to deliver the cards, Hugh did not receive a single one. Although he doubted it had anything to do with that missing boy thing.

They wouldn't have given him anything anyway.

He wasn't sure if they knew he was a prodigy. Maybe they had noticed that it wasn't normal that Hugh had practically broken a chair in two when he placed his backpack on it to get something out, or that he had left the PE teacher unconscious when he accidentally threw a ball at his face while they were playing soccer. The teachers, if they noticed, didn't say anything. After all, that school was supposed to be only for normal kids.

Not prodigies.

But children could be very insightful. Most likely, they did notice and therefore did not want to be associate with him.

Or maybe—

Maybe they just didn't want to hang out with Hugh, because of… that.

Because he was Hugh.

He decided to wait for everyone else to leave before starting to cry (or before breaking another chair, whichever came first). Or at least that was what he was about to do when he heard that someone had come up with the same idea as him and started crying first.

Simon Westwood had never been too talkative. Even before his older sister and mother died, he liked to sit at the last table, not speaking to anyone, and some older kids were constantly picking on him, without any teacher trying to do anything to stop them.

Not that Hugh was paying much attention to him or something.

The teacher practically ran to see what was going on with Simon Westwood, asking him what happened and why hadn’t he finished decorating his mailbox. Simon Westwood tried to explain it to her, but he was mumbling his words so neither the teacher nor Hugh could understand what he was saying.

Hugh didn’t get mad with him though. His mom had died. His sister died too, a couple of weeks later. He wouldn’t be in the mood for doing cheesy crafts if the same had happened to him. But the teacher wasn’t as benevolent as him, and started to say things like she was trying really hard to bring joy to her students, and that she was sure that if he tried a little bit harder, he would be able to enjoy Valentine’s Day, like the rest of them.

“Let’s see what nice things your classmates have said about you,” she exclaimed. But that only made Simon Westwood start crying again.

No one had given him a card.

Like… no one.

And Hugh was listening to all of this conversation, just sitting there, trying to stay as stiff as he could so they wouldn’t notice he was there (as if he weren’t literally right in front of them). Seeing Simon cried like that made him think that maybe he was just acting though when the other kids laugh at him because of his looks, his ratty old clothes (older and rattier than theirs), or just—

His mind exploded.

He suddenly understood why the other kids didn't like Simon Westwood. It was before he was him.

Just like how they didn’t like Hugh Everhart because he was Hugh Everhart.

When the teacher went out of the classroom with Simon, saying something about calling his dad (although he knew they wouldn’t be able to do that, since no one had a functioning phone those days), he took one of the cards he did for his classmates, cards that he never gave to them, and put one inside Simon Westwood’s mailbox/cereal box. He had left his backpack and his things there. When he came back to take them home, he would see the card too.

A voice in his head told him to get out of there before he came back, but another one told him to stay. Maybe Simon Westwood and he could be friends. Maybe he would understand what it felt like to be hated just for the way you were born. Maybe he was a prodigy too.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

He couldn’t take that chance.

So Hugh went home, but promised Simon Westwood (and himself) he would keep an eye on him.

After all, friends were there to have each other’s back.

Because they were friends, even if Simon didn't know it yet.

Second try

Year 9

They were friends.

He had never seen Hugh before meeting him on that alley where Simon got his powers. Like— he had seen him because he was in the same class as him, but he hadn't really seen him. During his childhood years, Simon was more focused on other things. Like being a little depressed and anxious ball with skinny legs and skinny arms, for example.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t depressed or anxious now. Nor it was he had gotten super muscular all of the sudden, like Hugh (he had always been bigger than the other kids, but he practically turned twelve and already looked like a teenager, except for the voice and the face).

But at that moment, he wasn’t depressed or anxious. He felt weirdly at peace.

He and Hugh were walking down the street, thinking about which store were they going to rob that day to get dinner for them and their families, when Simon noticed a couple holding hands in front of an abandoned café. She had dark hair and he had blue eyes, which looked at his girlfriend as if she was the Virgin Mary or something. Then, she kissed him and gave him a small blue flower and a heart-shaped card. The guy looked so moved by the gesture that he kissed her on the lips again, with so much more passion than before.

Simon looked away before they realized he was looking at them, not only because he didn’t want to come off as creepy, but also because he knew how awkward he would feel if they started to make out or something.

“Love is in the air,” Hugh sang.

Simon chuckled. “You noticed them too?”

“I noticed them when she gave him the flower,” he told him. “I had never seen a girl giving flowers to a guy before.”

“Times have changed, I guess. That’s why they don’t feel uncomfortable giving such public displays of affection. Kids in our day weren’t like that.”

“I know, right?” said Hugh continuing with the joke. “They are so perverted. There are children present, for God’s sake.”

Simon chuckled again and Hugh stopped to tie his shoe. While he was there, Simon noticed he was throwing glances at them.

“You know, giving them the death stare isn’t gonna prevent them from being in love,” Simon told him.

“I can try,” Hugh joked. Then, he shook his head. “It’s not that. I just—”

He waited for him a couple of seconds before asking, “Just what?”

He finally answered, “Someday we’ll have something like that.”

Simon frowned. “Huh?”

“You know,” Hugh mumbled. “We’ll have girlfriends and— and all of that.”

“Oh!” Simon exclaimed. “Yeah, someday, yeah.”

But before Simon could keep talking about it (or just develop some opinion on the topic) Hugh shrugged and urged him to keep walking. “I guess. I didn’t even remember today was Valentine’s Day though. They were my reminder—” he turned around and waved at them “—Thank you, exhibitionists, you reminded me what day is it!”

Now, Hugh probably didn’t mean for them to hear him say that. Simon knew him well enough to know Hugh thought he wasn’t being loud, but the thing was… Hugh was always loud. He could be “whispering” and the whole neighborhood would hear him ask Simon if he knew how bars with strippers worked because he did know, and wanted to brag about it. Then, Simon would feel embarrassed, because, in fact, he didn’t know how bars with strippers work.

Simon immediately turned around and realized the girl was looking at them with an expression he couldn’t read. He turned invisible and pushed Hugh inside of an alley, hoping those trashcans hid them well enough in case the guy turned out to be a freaking animal and wanted to kick their flat asses for calling them exhibitionists.

Simon felt the anxiety kicking in, when Hugh started laughing so loud, that said anxiety turn into the need of punching him really hard on the arm.

So he did it. Multiple times.

“Dude, dude, shut the fuck up, dude,” Simon said keeping his voice low (because he could keep his voice down, unlike others), “that guy’s gonna kick our asses, for real. Dudeeee—”

But his voice kinda cracked when he said that “Dudeee—” and that made Hugh laugh even more, so Simon kept punching him, using a vocabulary that would make the most dangerous of gangster blush. And he probably would have kept hitting him, if the anxiety of being discovered hadn't been overshadowed by how weird it made him feel to see his best friend laugh.

When Hugh laughed, his cheeks would turn red and his eyes would water. They could be in the most embarrassing situation ever, one where no one was laughing, and if he found it funny, he was going to do it, because he wasn't going to be able to help it. And it wasn't like Simon would stop him, either. Not at all. He liked it when he laughed.

Even though he ended up making him laugh too. Like at that moment.

Most of the garbage ended up in the drains, the sidewalk, or anywhere else except where it belonged, the trash can. Generally, Hugh always refused when someone hinted at sitting on the floor, precisely for that reason. However, on that occasion, the two were sitting in that stinking alley, throwing pebbles at each other, playing with some bottle caps they found on the ground, and arguing about who would win a bare-handed fight, Wonder Man or Phantom Feline.

They decided it was time to go home when a cat-sized rat appeared out of nowhere, and the two of them came out screaming like idiots, even faster than they would have run if that guy with the girlfriend would have chased them. They ran until they reached Simon's house, all sweaty and tired, their hands on their bent knees and breathing heavily.

Then Hugh laughed again. And his cheeks were flushed again, and his eyes were watery again, and he made Simon laugh again until Mr. Westwood came home from work and told him to go inside, that it was too late to be outside.

Once he was locked in his room, with his younger sister playing in the living room and his father in the kitchen, the image of that guy kissing his girlfriend did not make him feel anything. So, he tried to imagine kissing a lot of girls that he considered a thousand times more attractive, but just when it seemed that the idea was beginning to be something desirable, Hugh came back, with his laugh, his screams, and his eyes, like one of those freaking trains that he dreamed of having the opportunity to stop one day and that never missed a single chance to tell Simon all about it.

The truth was that Simon did believe that Hugh might be able to stop a train with his bare hands, but he doubted he would be able to stop the train of thought that Simon hopped on whenever he thought of him. And he was so ashamed to know that not even the strongest prodigy on the planet was capable of doing that, that he decided to take those memories from the collar of the old blue hoodie that each one of them wore and bury them alive in the backyard of his memory.

Forever and ever.

Thrid try

Year 12

Two months ago, after their first date, Simon told Hugh he would never plan another important date, forever and ever. But now, Simon had let him plan their first Valentine's Day together without putting any objections, proving that he trusted him. And he was happy for him; Simon had always had problems when it came to trusting other people. It was nice to see the other grow to become a better person.

And it was even nicer when you were no longer only friends, but a couple.

So yeah, he wanted to make Valentine's Day special. It was kind of a big deal.

Georgia and Tamaya brainstormed with him places he could take Simon to. They all agreed that it had to be a place safe enough and that it wouldn't put them in a situation where they had to reveal their powers, and by consequence, their secret identities. But then, everything started going downhill, especially because Georgia had some very odd ideas (like something about flowers, a choreographed dance, and poetry) and Tamaya was as romantic as a rock (“Just don't end up nearly killing yourself in front of him, that should be enough.”)

It was February 13th, and Hugh was on his cot, a bit angry at Georgia and Tamaya, not only because they couldn't help him on such an important mission as they promised, but also because they blamed him for their failure, telling him that he "had no imagination" and that he "thought with his dick", just because he thought all their ideas were horrible.

Maybe he should have phrased that better...

Simon and Evander slept on the bunk bed Simon used to share with his younger sister. Simon was taking a shower, so he was all alone with Evander and Kasumi, who sometimes went there to visit her best friend, even if Tamaya told her not to do it because it smelled horrible in there and she would bring the odor to the girl’s bedroom (Hugh thought the room didn't smell bad at all, and if it did, it was because Evander acted like he was living in the street yesterday and had no sense of personal hygiene). But Kasumi didn’t seem to mind, and she spent most of her afternoons cuddling with Evander on the top bunk, while she read an old book and Evander read one of Simon’s comics (because Hugh would join the Anarchists before letting Evander touch his comics).

They started whispering at each other about who knows what, and even though he kind of wanted to know what they were talking about, he was just too tired, so he decided to put a pillow on his face and try to fall asleep. But then, he heard, quite clearly, that they said his name.

And he couldn’t let slip that.

He pulled the pillow off his face, and said, “What are you saying about me?”

They both peered over the edge of the bunk. “We were talking about how you're not good at romance,” Evander replied.

The audacity of that b— boy.

“You are eleven years old," he told him. “What are you going to know about romance?”

“No more than you,” Kasumi acknowledged, very solemnly.

Hugh made his “See?” face and he looked away.

Then, Evander asked, “Why don’t you take him to Cosmopolis Park?”

Oh, stars. He couldn’t be serious.

Cosmopolis Park.

A freaking theme park.

Evander was eleven, all right. His idea of a date was probably something out of a princess movie he and Kasumi watched from time to time (sometimes Tamaya joined them too and she always acted like she was just watching it to make fun of it, even though everyone in the house knew she had a weird soft spot for cheesy princess movies). But Hugh was technically an adult now. He should know better, and knowing better was not taking your boyfriend to a theme park for Valentine’s Day. That wasn’t very romantic.

“What a stupid idea.”

Kasumi got red all of the sudden. For the look at Evander’s face, Hugh knew he had fucked up even before she said, “It was my idea…”

“Oh— no, Zoomie, I… what I meant was that—”

“Don’t fix it, bro,” Evander interrupted him. “You’re gonna make me want to punch you more.”

He wasn’t afraid of Evander punching him because he couldn’t compare a kid’s strength to his, but he obeyed him and mumbled a small, “Sorry.”

The “sorry” was for Kasumi though, not for Evander. If Kasumi hadn’t been there, he probably would have told Evander something like “Oh, yeah? You’re gonna punch me, little punk? Come on, punch me, don’t be a pussy” (and then Georgia would have stormed into the room, telling him not to use the word “pussy”, and they would have pointed at each other saying “He started it!”)

After giving him a goodnight kiss, Kasumi got off Evander’s bed, with the book under her arm. Before leaving the room, she knelt beside Hugh to kiss him goodnight, as to show his comment didn’t cause her to feel any kind of resentment towards him.

Because of course it didn’t. Kasumi was like that.

“I was just saying— Valentine’s Day is also a day to be with friends,” she whispered. “And you and Simon are not only boyfriends but also... you know, friends. I bet that wherever you take him, it'd be magical for both of you. Because you find magic in each other's company, even before you knew you were in love. So... why not?”

She turned off the lights on her way out.

He never thought Kasumi’s tendency to romanticize everything was odd or weird. It was something that he expected from a teenage girl, especially one who has such a vivid imagination. But he also never expected that imagination would help him in some way. And he never expected for her to say the exact words he wanted to hear, even before he knew he wanted to hear them.

She was so wise.

Cosmopolis Park didn’t sound like a bad idea anymore when Simon entered just after Kasumi, wearing his pajamas, and asked him with a teasing voice, “So… where are you gonna take me tomorrow?”

Hugh didn’t know if Evander was already asleep, so he just smiled at him and told him it was a surprise. Simon rolled his eyes and gave him a soft kiss on the nose before getting into his own bed.

It was his way of telling him he trusted him. And relationships were supposed to be built upon trust. He didn't need anyone to tell him that.

As far as he knew, Simon hadn't been to Cosmopolis Park in years, probably before the Age of Anarchy began. It was no secret that the park was currently full of gangs and drug addicts but it was still a relatively peaceful place. At least peaceful enough that the park was full of families, groups of friends, and tons of couples.

Although there weren’t any couples...

Well, there weren’t any couples like them.

He wondered if Simon noticed that small detail too, but when he turned to ask him that, he knew it would be better if he just kept his comments to himself. Because he wasn't an expert reading other people's emotions, but Simon...

Simon looked so happy at the moment.

The two walked side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other's, but their hands tucked deep into their pockets. Hugh was trying to keep his eyes fixed forward to avoid bumping into anyone, but the small chuckles Simon let out every time he saw something that surprised him, made said task impossible. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to avoid the embarrassment that would cause him to bother someone by bumping into them; he wanted to look at him.

He wanted to look at him trying to hide his laughter by covering his mouth with his hand, as if he wanted to suppress some kind of dark feeling, without realizing that his joy was so full of light that it was practically impossible. He wanted to continue to see how his dark eyes, with very long lashes and deep bags under the eyes, perfectly captured the lights of the Ferris wheel and the food trucks. He wanted to see the tiny smile he had the entire time they were at the park because even if Simon didn't smile like that very often, when he did, Hugh felt as if he was witnessing the most wonderful of miracles.

Hugh took his hands out of his pocket, and when he turned his attention back to Simon, he was looking at him too. They stopped in their tracks, not caring that people passed around them, sometimes unintentionally pushing them a bit or stepping on their shoelaces.

Hugh took a step forward and Simon did too.

Then Simon pulled a hand out of his grey jacket's pocket, making him wonder if he was dreaming or if it was really going to happen.

Hugh held his breath and felt the blood rush to his face, along with the overwhelming feeling that everyone around him was staring at them, with the newly acquired gift of recognizing those two faces that always hid behind pair of colorful masks and now were gazing at each other with true devotion. He desperately wanted to know what was going through their heads, he wanted to know if they still considered them worthy of their admiration and respect, and he wanted to know if he had been right when he assured Simon that, someday, the two of them would hold each other in public without thinking it twice.

But then, just as Simon's fingers brushed his cheek, his attention was completely diverted to someone behind Hugh.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked awkwardly.

Hugh turned to see who his boyfriend was talking to. He was a slightly older man, juggling three balls and standing on the table of his own stand. He was smiling at Simon and he had a mustache that quite frankly made him look like a ridiculous comic villain.

“Yes, you!” and he threw a ball at Simon.

Simon covered his face with his hands, but Hugh caught the ball before it hit him.

Who did this guys think he was?

The guy, far from mocking Simon's reaction, seemed intrigued. “Do you want to win a prize, big guy?” he asked Hugh.

Hugh was ready to say no to him in the kindest way he could, when the guy pulled out a laundry basket, like the one Georgia put on his head every Sunday, saying "Laundry time!" in a voice so high that made birds explode.

“You just have to throw that ball you have in your hand—” he raised the basket “—here. And you can win a prize.”

He finally gave him a chance to reply. “No, thank you, we’re fine.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets again and told Simon to keep going. But the guy did not give up.

“I see,” he crooned from afar. “Your dad didn't play ball with you and that's why you don't think you're capable of throwing it correctly. It’s fine.”

Simon put his hand to his mouth as if thinking "Oh, stars, he did not."

And Hugh looked at him as if thinking "Oh, but he did."

If that guy knew who he was talking to, he would probably think it twice before making comments to strangers mocking their lack of a father figure.

So he turned abruptly and threw the ball into the basket.

If Hugh had been a little calmer, he probably would have been able to remember that, before leaving the house, Tamaya had told him that theme parks were full of games that had the sole purpose of scamming people and that one of them was that game in particular. The balls bounced so much that even if they made contact with the bottom of the basket they would jump back to whoever threw it, making them technically lose.

He would also have listened to himself, to Hugh, who told him that it would be best to turn around and get on with their lives, and not to Captain Chromium, who was determined to win that freaking game because he won every single game the world put in his way.

After three balls, the guy turned to Simon, extended his hand at him, and told him, “It's fifteen dollars.”

That was enough to make him lose his mind. Hugh told him that it was not worth arguing with him, but Captain Chromium did not tolerate that people tried to take advantage of him, and he spent about ten minutes screaming with the mustachioed man, until Simon panicked (or lost his mind), grabbed one of the balls and threw it right in the man’s eye.

Then, he did take Hugh by the hand.

But just to be sure they both got out of there before someone tried to stop them.

They ended the evening at a hamburger stand several blocks away from Cosmopolis Park (because obviously, they weren't going to stay there after the show they had put on). They did not have enough money to buy two sodas, but they bought a strawberry juice carton to share and sat on the sidewalk to eat their hamburgers of doubtful provenance, ranting against the man, against the park, and, especially, against those damn balls.

“I can't believe there are people like him breathing the same oxygen I breathe,” Simon commented, before taking a bite out of his burger ravenously. “He had no right to make that joke.”

But Hugh was so distracted by how attractive Simon looked when he bit his hamburger like that all he could say was:

“If my dad knew I couldn't win that stupid game, he would abandon me again.”

Simon frowned a little bit, repeating the sentence in his head until he finally understood the joke, and laughed so hard he began to choke with his food. Hugh started to panic and told Simon he would give him five back blows like he read he should do when someone started to choke. That was enough for Simon to spit his food on a napkin. Both were so grossed out by it, that they started laughing again. Simon hid his face on Hugh's shoulder, practically using his fit of laughter as an excuse to snuggle against him, and Hugh used his own angriness as an excuse to stay right there, telling the entire world to go to hell, and willing to keep doing it forever, just as long as the conversation didn't end and they had to go home.

Georgia and Tamaya would kill them. It was already late at night.

Fourth try

Year 17

It was already late night when they arrived at the motel.

Simon had stayed invisible the entire time they were at the reception like he always did when they had one of those more… private nights out. Hugh was the one who was in charge of booking the room because Simon got too anxious anyway at the mere idea of having to interact with one of the receptionists.

It was one thing for his entire family (or the Council, as they had been calling themselves lately, as a joke) to know that tonight he was going to have sex. Strangers knowing it was a completely different thing.

He still wasn't quite sure which one was more embarrassing, but yeah. It was different.

He only became visible again when Hugh closed the door behind him.

Simon looked at the huge sports bag that Hugh carried with him. “What you got there?”

“Nothing important,” he assured with a shrug. He was smiling like he was a kid getting a bunch of presents at Christmas, and Simon was extremely happy too, so, without asking any more questions, he kissed him on the lips and went to the bathroom to give both of them time to get ready.

Not that they hadn't done that before. They didn't like having such intimate moments in the house. And even if they had wanted to, it was practically impossible to have even a minute of privacy there. The last time he had slept in a room by himself had probably been… never. And the number of occasions someone had opened the bathroom door while he was there were more than he could count. The door lock had been broken for a few weeks but nobody knew how to solve the problem because they had no idea how doors worked. Georgia had tried to implement a serious policy of knocking before entering any room with the door closed, but the only one who paid attention to her was Adrian because the rest of them were simply too used to walk around the house as if they were in their own houses. (That they were their house, but it was more Simon's house than theirs.)

In fact, it was the first time in forever that he was in a bathroom and he didn't have to put his hand on the door, to stop whoever tried to open the door before they ended up seeing him in the most vulnerable of positions, so Simon took off his T-shirt, his jeans, and sat on the toilet, wearing his underwear and his jacket, trying to enjoy his first moment of privacy in a long time.

At least until his legs started to feel cold and Hugh told him that he could go out now.

When he came out of the room, Hugh, who was lying on the bed, widened his eyes. Simon was already ready to hear a flattering comment, but instead, he frowned and asked, “Are you going to leave your socks on?”

Simon looked at his feet automatically. He had indeed left his socks on.

He didn't see anything wrong with it.

“The carpet is filthy,” he replied. “I don't want to get fungus or something like that.”

Hugh found no fault with his logic. “Okay, but take them off when you get on the bed,” he asked.

Then Simon realized that Hugh, not only never stopped doing that ridiculous pose that pretended to be sexy throughout the entire conversation, but he also had thrown out the (probably dirty) bedsheets from the motel bed and put instead one of the blankets they took out of the closet to cover themselves during winter.

So that's what he carried in his sports backpack.

Hugh seemed to realize that Simon was looking at the blanket and not at him, because he immediately said, “Oh, I hate motel bedsheets.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh. “You hate them?”

Hugh finally stopped doing that ridiculous pose and sat down. “You just never know who sleep in them before us, Simon,” he replied, “and you never know when was the last time they washed them. Maybe they— ” he pointed to the pile of blankets thrown away “—are covered on the… bodily fluids of twenty other people, and you want me to lie on them? Is that how you want us to make love? Like animals?”

Simon kept laughing, but Hugh wasn’t laughing. “Simon, stop it!” he exclaimed. “A new class of bacteria could be there, ‘cause— oh, I am convinced that those things have a new kind of bacteria no one has discovered yet, and— ”

And he went silent when Simon put his hands on his shoulders, still with a smile on his lips.

“What?”

“Hugh, have I ever told you I think you're really sexy when you out crazy me?” Simon asked, running his fingers through his hair.

Hugh stood still, looking directly into his eyes. “No, I think you haven’t.”

Simon shrugged. “Well— I think you're really, really, sexy when you out crazy me.”

“Well, I think… I think—“

Hugh could no longer continue his sentence. Even though Simon wasn't doing anything to stop him from speaking.

He was literally just standing in front of him, one knee leaning on the mattress and one hand on Hugh's head.

“You think?” he asked him. “That’s new.”

“Simon, wait, I'm trying to seduce you,” Hugh said.

Simon took a step back, pointing to the bathroom door. “I think I’d wait over there.”

“No, wait—” he gently grabbed his wrist before he could move further away “—I’m starting to… Let me think of something.”

Simon chuckled. He put his knee on the mattress again and Hugh grabbed him around his waist, pulling him close to him and resting his head on his chest, while Simon rested his chin on his head. He had just taken a bath when they came out of the house, so Hugh’s hair smelled of him and lemon zest because they have been using dish soap as shampoo the last week.

That was the kind of privacy that they sometimes lacked at home. He was no longer talking about sex. Simon craved to have him like this, so close to him. Both in their underwear, both in a practically unknown place, and both completely vulnerable, but together. Feeling at home, even if technically they weren't.

Because Hugh was his home.

He was sure he saw him that way too.

Simon was so focused on trying to capture that moment in his memory so that he could repeat it over and over again for the rest of his life, that he was totally thrown when Hugh blurted out:

“I think you have a nice dick, dude.”

Simon broke the hug ... “What?”

Hugh’s cheeks turned even redder. “Tell me I didn't say that.”

He put a hand up to try to hide his laughter. “No, I think you did.”

He still couldn’t believe that was Hugh’s best try to seduce him. And apparently, Hugh couldn't believe it either.

“Then— forget about it,” he stammered. “Let's all of us forget about it.”

Simon realized that he tried to grab him by the waist again, but he moved away just in time, pretending to be extremely offended. “So I don't have a nice dick.”

“Let's just stop saying the word dick, please.”

“You started it.”

“I PANICKED, ALL RIGHT?”

“PANICKING IS MY JOB!”

“I’M TAKING YOUR JOB THEN. AND I’M GONNA STEAL YOUR BOYFRIEND TOO IF YOU KEEP LAUGHING!”

Simon didn't try to pretend that he wasn't laughing, because he was more than aware that it was already too obvious at this point.

So he decided it was better to play along.

“No, don't take my boyfriend!” he exclaimed dramatically, putting his hands on his shoulders. “Take me instead.”

Hugh took him by the waist and pulled him close. Simon didn't try to walk away this time. “Deal.”

But when Simon was about to start kissing him, he diverted his attention from Hugh for a split second, making him realize the curtains were wide open. “Oh, shoot, wait— the curtains.”

Luckily he hadn’t taken off his socks yet.

With quick steps, he headed to the window. He put a hand on each curtain and was about to close it completely when the lights of a car approaching from the end of the street caught his attention. It was a yellow sports car that looked more like a ripe banana than a vehicle.

Shit.

It stopped a few feet past the motel they were at. Out of it came a short man, with scars on his face and thin hair, and a tall blonde woman in a yellow dress, very inappropriate for the occasion. Not because it was provocative thought. It’s just that no one would wear such an expensive-looking dress in such a dangerous neighborhood unless they wanted to be robbed.

Or that they had enough status not to be.

Simon turned to see Hugh. “Hey—” Hugh looked up slightly. “—Come here.”

Hugh obeyed, a little bit confused, after putting his socks on (obviously). Simon had closed the curtains just enough for them not to be noticed but also not so much that they couldn’t see what was happening on the street.

Hugh gasped. “Are those—“

Simon swallowed hard. “Cyanide and Queen Bee in person.”

“What are they doing here?”

Simon had as much an idea of what Queen Bee and Cyanide were doing there as Hugh had, but he responded with the first thing that came to his mind anyway.

“Probably celebrating Valentine's Day,” he replied. “What a shitty place to take your girlfriend during Valentine’s Day though.”

At least take her to a motel. Like I did with Hugh.

“Do you think Queen Bee and Cyanide are together?” Hugh asked Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I don't know, but I know Queen Bee has a thing for Ace Anarchy.”

He had the slight hope that Hugh would take the bait and give him a chance to discuss his theories about Queen Bee's fixation with Ace Anarchy (which he always talked about with Tamaya), but Hugh, despite being very nosy, just kept quiet, watching Queen Bee and Cyanide argue outside the car.

How could that woman walk in such big heels?

“Or maybe Cyanide is the one who has a thing for Ace Anarchy,” Hugh blurted out suddenly.

Simon turned to see him. “Wait, really?”

“Don't be so heteronormative, Simon,” he scolded him. “Plus, I've never been in the cathedral, but I bet that when you enter there, it reeks homosexuality.”

“Dude—”

“I just know.”

And they kept watching.

There was something very personal about seeing two people arguing from a distance, like old ladies peering out of their home windows whenever the neighbors had a particularly loud fight. Simon almost considered it romantic.

Then, Queen Bee tried to turn around to turn her back on Cyanide, but something went wrong with her heel and she went face first towards the sidewalk, letting out a scream that could make someone think she was being murdered, and causing Cyanide (and the two of them) to laugh out loud.

How could that woman walk with those heels? Well, apparently, she couldn't.

The tension he felt when Cyanide interrupted his laughter and turned around as if he knew someone was watching them, made him remember that they were not gossiping old ladies peeking out of the window of their house and that those two were not some neighbors having a little fight. No, they were Dread Warden and Captain Chromium, stuffed into a hotel room like they were fugitives from the law or something, and those two little people in the middle of the street were two of the most feared and powerful villains in the world.

There was nothing romantic about that.

So Simon immediately closed the curtains.

But now neither of them was in the mood to have sex anymore, really.

“We should do something.”

“I'm on it.”

Hugh was already crouched slightly by the bedside, pulling his unmistakable superhero suits out of his sports bag.

Simon was so puzzled that he couldn't even stop to enjoy the… image that Hugh was inadvertently giving him by bending down like that.

“Wait, did you actually bring our supersuits to our date?” he asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied without looking up.

Who knows what kind of demon got into Simon at the time, but a not very family-friendly thought crossed his mind, and that thought was the one that made him ask, “Why?”

Hugh, completely unaware of what he was thinking, handed Simon his clothes and dropped the two pairs of boots on the floor as he sat in the bed.

Only the stars knew how he had managed to fit a blanket, their shoes, and their suits in that sports backpack.

“Because I thought something like this was gonna happen,” he explained while putting on his leggings. “You know, crime doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day the same way we do.”

Oh.

The little not very family-friendly thought hadn't been right then.

Simon felt a bit sick admitting that he wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Oh. I thought...”

Hugh looked at him, intrigued, and a second later, he understood what Simon was thinking. “Oh, stars, no. I was not thinking about that.”

“All right then.”

Now it was Hugh's turn to watch him change. Simon knew that was what he was doing.

Because he knew his look better than he knew anyone else's.

When he was fully dressed, Simon reached out to reach for his shoes, and Hugh put his own hand over his', to get his attention.

He already had the mask on, but he could see that he had turned red. If Simon had been white too, he probably would be redder than him.

He swallowed. “Unless— unless you're into it?”

Simon swallowed too. But he didn’t plan to answer him right now.

It had been hard enough to put on their suits. They didn’t need to start taking them off.

So he pulled his hand away and started putting on his shoes.

“Hugh, the villains—” he reminded him.

“Right, right.” Hugh brushed off his knees. “The villains. That’s important.”

After making sure the door had the lock on (and that said lock worked), they turned off the lights, Simon turned invisible, and Hugh climbed onto the roof, pushing himself off the window frame as fast as possible so that Queen Bee and Cyanide, who were turning their backs on them, standing in front of the door of an apparently abandoned building as if waiting for someone, did not see him. Afterward, Simon followed him, assuring him that he could climb on his own.

The two remained hiding behind the building's water tank. Well, Hugh was behind the building's water tank, and Simon was in plain sight, invisible, with his hood on and his cape fluttering behind him, making him feel…

He wanted to say that it made him feel heroic, but the truth was that Simon also felt very sexy when he got into this mysterious and threatening mode.

Simon turned his hand visible and pointed at them as if to say "Are we going or what?"

Hugh turned to see them with a frown, analyzing the situation. But when Simon was about to ask him what they were waiting for, Hugh turned to see him, with the same smile he had on his face when he was about to let the world know the coolest plan of all the plans, completely ignorant that in reality, it was the dumbest thing he had ever came up with.

“Wait, I have an idea.”

And in that situation, Simon had to take the role of being the one to tell him that his idea was bullshit and that it wasn't going to work, but he used to listen to his idea before expressing his comments about it. Not only because he didn't like talking without knowing all the facts first, but because may he could go to Tamaya the next day and tell her what had happened in the last episode of Hugh Had an Idea And It Went Wrong.

(They also enjoy episodes of Evander Acted Like An Animal Again and Queen, Realize That Junkie Doesn’t Care About You, Please.)

“Do you remember that song Evander used to sing to us?” he asked him.

Oh, Simon remembered it and cringed every time he thought about it.

But the cringe wasn't enough to stop him from singing the song.

“The Warden and the Captain are sitting in a tree—”

Hugh cringed too. “That one, yes. Stars, I hate it so much—” and he pointed to Queen Bee and Cyanide “—Let's make them hate it too. ”

Simon seriously tried to take his role as the voice of reason in that situation. He let his imagination (or rather, his anxiety) run wild, making him imagine the thousand and one scenarios in which that specific fight could turn out worse than they usually did if Hugh made that comment. Queen Bee would probably call Hugh a "lesbian" (“You have a lesbian haircut, honeybun, accept it”), Cyanide would go crazy trying to find Dread Warden to melt his skin slowly and painfully, everyone would wish death upon everyone, and the only reason the fight would end would be because either Cyanide would finally manage to injure Simon or because Queen Bee’s stilettos would break.

He didn't see how teasing them with an attack worthy of elementary school kids would make the situation worst.

Besides… it was going to be hilarious to see that.

He didn't see why he couldn't co-star in Hugh Had Idea and It Went Wrong.

“I'm in,” he replied, trying not to raise his voice too much. “I'm super in.”

Hugh rose his hand and Simon high-fived him quietly. But Hugh seized the opportunity to take his hand, running his finger across his knuckles. “Okay, but you sing the spelling part, because—”

“You don't know how to spell,” Simon interrupted.

Hugh let go of his hand. “Well, when you said it in that tone, it sounds a little mean.”

Simon rolled his eyes and took his hand again. Then the logical part of his brain (yes, the same one that always insisted on being the voice of reason in situations like that) began to yell at him that he should convince Hugh to let Cyanide and Queen Bee did whatever they wanted, while the two of them did whatever they wanted.

But that the logical part of him had no voice in that situation because the logical part of his brain was not the part that loved Hugh. After all, there was nothing logical in loving the way he made a kind of mini-horn with both hands, took a deep breath, and yelled with all his might:

“CYANIDE AND THE QUEEN BEE SITTING IN A TREE—”

Fifth try

Year 20

K-i-s-s-i-n-g.

That was what he wanted to be doing. He wanted to be kissing Simon. He wanted to be with him, walking in the park and watching life go by in front of them. The birds singing from the trees, the children chasing each other, and the wind ruffling their hair. The day was going to be so perfect that he was going to be able to ignore homeless people getting high on corners or young people dealing drugs (that should be) illegal, focusing all his attention on Simon and how happy he felt that this time, everything he was going well.

He didn't want to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

But apparently, that's what he was doing.

Tamaya was sitting on the floor, covering herself with her wings. Simon had sat on the other end of the three-seater couch, looking out the living room window with a thoughtful expression, worthy of a character in a Shakespearean play or something. Evander was leaning over him and had Kasumi on his lap. She was watching him play (or rather trying to play) a Tetris game that he had on his phone, putting her icy feet on Hugh's arm, probably without realizing it, and Hugh was on the other end of the couch, first starting at Simon, thinking of how handsome he looked when he was thinking, and then at Georgie. She had been smart enough to sit on the reclining sofa, which gave her the space she needed to cuddle with an inconsolable six-year-old Adrian.

“The storm will end soon,” she was telling him. “The storm will end soon.”

But that was not enough to comfort Adrian. His mother had already been telling him for about an hour that “the storm will end soon”, but the storm just ... did not end. And each time they heard a new thunder, Adrian let out a howl and clung to his mother with more force, asking her to please not go away.

Everyone knew that when Adrian asked Georgie not to go away, he was actually asking everyone not to go away. If any of them left the room, he would probably lose his mind.

He felt the urge to tell him that she wasn't going anywhere. That wasn’t very Georgie. Georgie didn't leave people who needed her like that, scared, crying, and begging her to stay. So since Georgie didn't do it, neither did the others.

It is not like they could have gone anywhere though.

Georgie realized that Simon hadn't stopped staring out the window.

“I'm sorry you couldn't do anything special this Valentine’s Day,” she whispered. Simon blinked as if he were waking up from a dream. “What did you have planned for this evening?”

Simon turned to see him, disappointed. Hugh decided to answer for him.

“We were going to have a picnic at the park,” he replied.

Georgie blurted out something that sounded like “Awww”, and Evander scoffed.

“That’s gay.” Hugh put his arm behind Kasumi and smacked Evander on the back of his head. “BRO, YOU LITERALLY MADE LOSE ME.”

Tamaya laughed and Kasumi shook her head. “I want to play too—” she tried to take the cellphone and Evander pressed it closer to his chest “—Vandy.”

Georgie intervened (without letting go of Adrian). “Vandy, give Kasumi the phone. It’s her turn. And then it's mine.”

But Evander didn’t want to.

“But it only has ten percent of battery left,” he exclaimed.

“Perfect, it's more than enough for Tamaya, Kasumi, Simon, Hugh, and I to get a turn too.”

“Hugh punched me! He does not deserves a turn.”

“I didn't punch him,” Hugh said. “I just hit him very slightly.”

“My brain almost felt out of my head.”

“Do you still have a brain?” Tamaya asked. Hugh high-fived her. “I've been thinking about that joke for weeks, dude.”

“Evander Wade, share the phone,” Georgia said. “I'm no longer asking.”

“No! It's my phone.”

Desperate, Tamaya reached out to take Evander's cell phone, and he stood up so fast that Kasumi ended up falling on Tamaya.

“MOTHERFU—”

A thunder. Again.

Adrian started crying. Again.

And they all went silent. Again.

Hugh took advantage of the fact that Evander got out of the coach to move closer to Simon. Evander didn't say anything to him because he was too busy handing the cell phone to Tamaya, who then gave it to Kasumi. Kasumi refused to sit down with Evander again and stayed on the floor with Tamaya (although resting her head on his knees, as if they were a pillow).

Simon rested his head on Hugh's shoulder.

“Next year will be better,” he whispered in his ear. Simon didn't answer him; he only put his hand on the window, leaving the trace of his fingers on it. “Are you all right?”

Simon put his hand on Hugh’s waist and pulled him closer to him, closing his eyes for a while. “I'm tired…”

“Rest then.”

After all…

Hugh was tried too.

There had never been a day when they didn't have to face a new threat. It seemed that the Anarchists, instead of getting weaker, were getting stronger. Even with the many new allies the Renegades had, no one seemed to have a second of the day to rest. Adrian got more and more nervous when they went out as days passed by, and it was becoming more difficult to calm down him during his tantrums. Even he, who was a child, could feel the tension in the city.

But precisely because of that, because he was a child, he could not understand the enormous responsibility that the Renegades had on his shoulders and that they could not stay with him, no matter how much they wanted to.

Maybe that was why no one had tried to leave the room. It was their way of telling Adrian that they were still there for him.

He was about to fall asleep when Simon pulled him away. His first instinct was to pull him closer, but as soon as he realized that Simon was just standing up, he let go of him.

Suddenly, he looked happier. Much happier than anyone else in that room.

Everyone noticed that change.

“Are you still too tired to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

Even Hugh didn't understand what he meant.

Evander turned to see Georgie. “Georgie, you told them no hanky-panky in the house.”

“Vandy—” Kasumi intervened.

“Zoomie.”

“Don't say hanky-panky.”

“Yeah, you sound like a grandma,” Tamaya told him slightly punching him on the leg.

Hugh shushed them. “Shhh, guys, let Si talk.”

“No, go on, guys—” Simon told them “—Let us show you.”

And he held out his hand.

Obviously, Hugh accepted it.

He had no idea what Simon was planning to do, but he wasn't too tired not to celebrate Valentine's.

He was never too tired of him.

Adrian immediately reacted to this. “Hey, no, don't go...” he cried, stretching his little arms towards them.

Luckily, Simon looked like he already had that covered.

“We're not going anywhere, Adrian,” Simon assured him. “You are coming with us.”

Adrian and Georgie's eyes widened at the same time.

“Me?” Adrian asked pointing to himself.

“You,” Simon replied, confidently. “But it's a very special mission,” he added in a lower voice, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can't tell anyone.”

Adrian rubbed his eyes and Georgie looked up at the ceiling as if she were making sure a new leak hadn't magically appeared. Tamaya, on the contrary, didn't understand, and she stared at the scene, very intrigued by Simon's plan too. Luckily, Georgie noticed it, and with a frantic movement of her hand, told her to stop staring. Hugh made the same move, but this time, directed at Kasumi and Evander.

When Adrian opened his eyes again, everyone but the two of them was pretending they weren't listening to the conversation.

“What mission is it?” Adrian asked in a thin voice.

“Look, we can't go out to celebrate Valentine's Day,” Simon explained, “but what we can do is bring Valentine's Day here with us.”

Adrian looked puzzled.

“Hey, but you're going to need a superhero name to be able to participate in the mission,” Hugh commented, trying to get Adrian more interested. “Do you have any ideas?”

Simon scratched his beard, thinking. “Hmm, very good question, my dear Captain,” he commented. “Maybe—”

“Oh, I know what superhero name I'll have,” Adrian exclaimed, grabbing Simon by the cheeks. “Hey, your beard feels funny.”

Simon grabbed him by the cheeks too. “What’s your superhero name, then?”

Adrian whispered it in his ear and Simon's face lit up. “It's a perfect name, Adrian.”

Adrian shushed him. “Shh, don't say my real name! I have to use my superhero name, remember? It's a mission.”

Evander scoffed again and Kasumi shushed him immediately.

“And can he tell me your superhero name?” Hugh asked Adrian.

Adrian stopped to think about it. “Yes, why not?” he finally replied.

Then, Simon stood slightly on tiptoe to reach him and whispered in his ear the most perfect superhero name he had ever heard.

Sketch.

Hugh took Adrian by surprise when he graved him and carried him in his arms, making him gasp in shock and excitement. Even Georgie started to laugh out loud at her son's reaction.

“Ready for the mission, Sketch?” he asked him making his voice lower than it actually was.

Adrian gave a military salute. “I was born ready, Captain!” he exclaimed, moving his feet in the air.

Georgie stood up too. “Where you taking my son, guys?” she asked dramatically.

Hugh placed Adrian on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, mom,” Adrian told her, “I’ll be fine. I need to accomplish this mission.”

Georgie pretended to start sobbing. “No, but you don't have to, son of mine, you're too young!”

“Listen to your mother, kid,” Tamaya intervened. “Stay with us, stay safe with your family—“ and she passed her wings over Kasumi's shoulders.

“Tamaya has two wings,” Kasumi pointed out. “And they're warm.”

“Really?” Evander asked.

But Tamaya’s face changed immediately. “It's not for you, it's for Adrian.”

“GO WITH THEM, LITTLE SKETCH, GO!” Evander yelled standing up on the sofa. “GO SAVE VALENTINE’S DAY!”

That was enough for Adrian. He kissed his mother on the cheek and told her that he would be back soon. Then the three of them began their journey to the kitchen while the others stayed in the living room.

Simon pulled out a bag of bread from the refrigerator and asked Hugh to pass him the peanut and hazelnut butter jars from the cupboard. Adrian took it upon himself to count the remaining loaves of bread and separate them into pairs, spreading them on the table. Simon encouraged him to count how many pairs there were and Hugh had no problem helping him when he got stuck at number five. Then Simon toasted them on the stove, and he allowed Adrian to pile them up like a tower on a red ceramic plate.

When it was time to make the sandwiches, Simon and Hugh sat at different ends of the table, each holding a butter knife. Simon would spread peanut butter on one of the loaves, Hugh would spread hazelnut on the other, and Adrian would gather them together and wrap them the best he could in a napkin, before putting them in a makeshift basket that Kasumi had made long ago.

“Mommy, no!” yelled Adrian when Georgie dared to enter the kitchen. “It's a secret mission!”

“Don’t worry, don’t mind me,” she told them pretending not to notice what they were doing. “I'm just gonna prepare myself some strawberry milk.”

As soon as Adrian looked away, Georgie winked at Hugh. And Hugh winked back.

“I think we're done with this mission now,” he replied using that ridiculously deep voice again. “You have to break the news to the rest of the team, Sketch.”

Adrian jumped out of his chair and practically ran into the living room, holding the basket with sandwiches in his hand.

The three of them had been so into their mission, they didn't realize that the others had put several blankets on the floor and Tamaya was cursing under her breath for being unable to use a lighter to turn on the candles. Kasumi approached Adrian, with a VHS in each of her hands, asking him which movie he would like to see, and Evander came over too, but to try and tell Adrian to pick the action movie, not the romance movie the girls wanted to see.

Simon seemed like he wanted to join the conversation too, but Hugh thought he had done enough. And he meant it in a good way. So he took him by the hand and they lied down on the couch, not caring that perhaps one of the others wanted to sit on it.

Adrian had already chosen the movie (he chose the period drama over the action movie, thankfully) when Georgie walked into the living room with a stack of plastic cups under her arm and a jug half full of strawberry milk, carrying it as it were a trophy. During her birthday, everyone in the house had raised money to buy her a huge pot of strawberry milk powder, which they made her promise that she would not share.

Some promises could not be kept.

The adults got two sandwiches each, but Adrian had practically all of the strawberry milk. Throughout the movie, Kasumi was sighing and muttering how much she wanted to wear a dress like the one the main character wore in the movie during that elegant dinner. From to time, Tamaya frowned and muttered something about how problematic she found a line or scene. Georgie braided their hair and when she finished, she would undo the braid and start over, laughing out loud at Evander's comments about how horrible the romantic interest looked and that he did not understand how that was the ideal of beauty that women had. Adrian fell asleep in Simon's arms about halfway through, and about that exact time, Hugh began to notice that Simon was starting to have a hard time trying to stay awake.

He looked adorable when he was thinking, but he liked it even more how he looked when he was falling asleep.

He kissed the back of his head. “Are you tired?”

He nodded slightly. “Yes… but never of you.”

Hugh kissed him again. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“What thing?”

Georgie turned around for a second and realized that Adrian had fallen asleep. She stopped braiding Evander’s short hair (for some reason, Evander had let her braid his hair) and sat on the recliner chair, hugging Adrian like a stuffed animal.

She winked at him once more. And Hugh winked back, one more time.

“Nothing— ” he laid himself more comfortably on the couch and allowed Simon to get on top of him, resting his head on his chest. “—Sleep for a while.”

Simon made no further objection. “You too.”

Hugh did not fall asleep. In fact, he stayed awake for the three hours the movie lasted, even though by the time the credits started, Tamaya was snoring and Kasumi and Evander were under her wings, rolled up, and cuddled up to her. Georgie ended up falling asleep on the couch, covered in the same blanket Simon used to cover himself a few hours ago.

When the clock told him it was 7 PM, Hugh knew it was time for them to go patrol. However, the rain had gotten even worse, and Simon...

Simon looked so peaceful.

He hadn't realized how deep the bags under his eyes had gotten, nor that his face hadn't looked as relaxed as it looked right now for weeks, because he frowned most of the time. He hadn't held him that close either or had the opportunity to give him as many kisses as he had been doing in that time. Not because he didn't want to, it was just ... well, they had been busy trying not to die.

How tiring it was to try not to die.

He knew Simon was tired because, again, he was tired too, and he bet that the rest of their family felt the same as them. But Simon was the only one who had overcome his tiredness and his moodiness to just... make them forget their sorrows for a moment.

He was like that.

Hugh gave him one more kiss on the cheek.

Thank you.

If Simon had been awake, he would have asked him "Thanks for what?"

And Hugh would have answered him, "For just being you."

Someday they would get their happy ending. But for the moment, all he wanted was to be crammed into the living room with the rest of his family, listening to the thunder and the rain crashing down on the ceiling.

He doubted that happiness would ever end.

Sixth (but not last) try

Two years after the Day of Triumph.

Just over a year ago, Simon had been on the roof of the same building he was currently in. Of course, it looked very different from how it looked now. It didn’t have any windows, no furniture, and, obviously, no electricity. It was the vile shell of what had once been one of the most beautiful skyscrapers in the city. Simon was thinking about that when he realized that he did not have a single memory of having seen that place when it was in its maximum splendor and that the only proof he had of it was the stories of those adults who arrived before him.

That sooner or later, he would become one of those adults. Those who told stories of the past to the generations that came after them.

He thought of Adrian. He thought that there would come a time when he would be curious to know certain things that happened and would ask questions that Simon would not be too sure how to answer. Not precisely because he didn't want to or because he thought he wasn't ready to hear the truth; he just didn’t know those truths at all.

Why did people change for the worst? How did the world use to be when prodigies weren’t divided by heroes or villains?

What happened to Lady Indomitable?

How did the world use to be before she was gone?

Then Simon, with tears in his eyes, looked up at the crescent moon and the six stars lined up in such a way that they seemed to form a smile. He hadn’t seen anyone in his family smile for… a very long time.

Because when Georgia Rawles left, she took with her their capacity to smile.

Yet, at that moment, Simon could feel her. He could feel her when he was crying, asking her to please fly again and to help him get down from that skyscraper. He felt her hugging him, keeping him from falling to his knees and cutting his skin with the shattered glass that was on the floor. She promised him that she would never give up on him and assured him that every time he saw the sky, he would find those six stars forming that smile, which from that moment on, would be hers.

Simon didn't want her to make promises, but… it was Georgie. His Georgie. The Georgie who made pinky promises even though she was about to turn thirty because you were never too old for pinky promises. The Georgie who always protected him and never gave up on him, even though there were times when Simon thought she should.

So since she was his Georgie, Simon accepted the promise. As she turned around and rose again to the sky, he wondered what would happen when the city was so full of light, that the stars (Georgie’s smile) faded away and everyone, including them, forgot about them (about her).

But, after all this time, Simon was looking at the stars, on the roof of that same skyscraper that had now been turned into a fancy restaurant, holding Hugh's hand across the table, and noticing that Georgie was still smiling at him from above.

As it always should be.

“Did you ever expect things to turn out like this when you were little?”

He turned to see Hugh again. “What things?”

But Hugh kept staring at the stars. Simon didn't care. He liked to think that the sparkle in his blue eyes was due to them. “Us.”

Simon shook his head, “No,” he answered when he remembered Hugh couldn’t look at him. “Did you?”

Finally, Hugh saw him again. “I think that when I was little, I didn’t know one could be as happy as I am with you right now.”

Simon rolled his eyes.

“I'm serious,” Hugh insisted, taking him just a little tighter by the hand. “I'm so glad we finally made it out.”

Simon leaned forward slightly. “We really did, huh?”

Then, Hugh gently pulled him closer to him, making their foreheads bump and closing his eyes. “And I'm so glad that now, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, to us, and to what we have.”

Simon closed his eyes too. He would have liked to promise Hugh that it would be like that. That this new chapter of their lives, the chapter of getting married, having kids, and rebuilding a city together, was would turn out as well as the last one, when they fought crime, defeated the bad guys, and held hands only when they were not wearing the armors that protected them from the outside world.

But he could not promise that. And anyways, Hugh was not very fond of promises. He said they were very easy to break.

So he grabbed his chin and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before saying, “It's getting late. We should ask for the check.”

Hugh nodded and called a waiter. He noticed that Simon was reaching into his pocket and quickly told him not to do it, that he got it. Simon knew there was nothing he could do to make him change his mind, so he instead just asked if he could get a slice of chocolate cake to go. Adrian would love to have chocolate cake for breakfast.

The waiter returned a few moments later with the bill (and Adrian’s chocolate cake). Simon almost winced when he saw the amount of money they had spent on a meal that hadn’t been that good in the first place (although he did not know if it was because of the lack of ingredients or because gourmet food kind of sucked). However, Hugh didn't seem at all concerned and reached into his pockets to get his wallet.

Suddenly, he leaned his elbows on the table. “Simon.”

Simon leaned his elbows on the table too. “Yes?”

“Have I mentioned you look very handsome tonight?”

He tried to remember. “No,” he replied. “But thank you for noticing. I even took a shower.”

“Wow,” Hugh exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. “Feeling fancy today.”

“I do feel fancy today,” Simon replied, adjusting the jacket he had put on over his pink button-up shirt at the last moment because Hugh had told him that the restaurant had a pretty rigid dress code.

Simon almost didn’t put on the jacket out of pure spite. In fact, he spent all the way ranting about how it was stupid to have such a specific dress code in a place like Gatlon City, and that he bet that the owners of that restaurant, who now were acting like total snobs, had spent most of their lives wearing only a t-shirt and old jeans, like the rest of them.

Hugh, who had been wearing the jacket from the beginning (a blue one), was quiet, listening carefully to what Simon was saying until he blurted out:

“We can do something else if you want to.”

He didn't say it in an “I’m hurt by your comment” tone. Instead, he said it the same way he would tell him that they could watch another movie or that they could get take out instead of cooking dinner. He said it as if the reservation he made was not at stake, or as if he hadn’t been sending him hints of wanting to go to that specific restaurant since New Year.

Simon knew that if he had said yes, Hugh would have taken him wherever he wanted. However, Simon also knew that it didn't matter where they went. They had spent Valentine's in an alley, at a fair, fighting villains, and in a house too small for seven people. And in all those places, he had a great time.

Surely that place was… snobbish, but he could have a great time there too.

After all, they were together.

He was sure Hugh knew that too.

Hugh nodded, agreeing with him. He hardly ever agreed with someone other than himself anymore.

“Is this your strange way of making me say you look good too?” he asked him then.

And Hugh’s smile grew bigger. “Simon Westwood, you are the love of my life,” he replied taking his hand, “and this is my strange way of telling you I forgot my wallet at home.”

Simon laughed so loudly that the other customers turned to see him. But he couldn't care less. He kind of wanted them to saw them. He wanted them to notice how much he was laughing and he wanted them to see him kiss Hugh as he reached for his pockets…

Oh, no.

“Hugh.”

He tensed. “Yes, dear husband of mine who’s going to pay for this dinner?”

“You look good too.”

That was enough for Hugh to realize that Simon had also left his wallet at the house.

The two remained serious for a long time. But then, Simon could see how Hugh's brain clicked in a very strange way, which made him see this whole situation as the funniest thing that had ever happen to him.

He kissed him once more.

They always managed to ruin their Valentine's Days one way or another, but it didn't matter. Because there was no way they could ruin what the two of them had.

Boy, he would like to see someone try.

#queercreators #queercreators02 #renegades #archenemies #supernova #renegades trilogy #hugh everhart #simon westwood #humon #obsi's writs

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fluffi · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

pairing: taehyun x reader

genre: 30% fluff, 70% angst, masquerade!au, prince!taehyun, antagonist!reader

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: I know halloween is over but I couldn’t get this out in time (I wrote the entire story in like 2 days) so it’s finally out now! my first time writing such deep angst (i am crazy). Surprisingly, I really like it, so look forward to more works like this in the coming year!

warnings: major character death, descriptions of seizures, mass murdering, mentions of fire, mentions of knifes, soul sucking, ghosts, killing, vague descriptions of dead bodies, feeling of being lonely, detailed descriptions of slashing throats

- - -

6.58PM | FRIDAY | 13 OCTOBER

“So, you finally decided to show up, huh?” Soobin side-eyed the blonde-haired boy, and sighed, shaking his head.

Kang Taehyun wasn’t one to go to balls and parties. He would much rather stay home and read a good book from his own humongous library, while sipping on a good cup of coffee by the fire. He wasn’t interested in the free food, since he could ask for that anytime in the comfort of his own home. Taehyun certainly wasn’t interested in the commoners who would follow him anytime they spotted him, or his father’s obnoxious friends. However, after hearing that tonight’s event was a masquerade, he decided to attend just for the fun of it. Little did he know, this vague decision would change him, forever.

“Well, yeah. I did, Soobin. Is it a big deal?”

Taehyun looked up at Soobin with squinted eyes through his sequined handmade mask, signalling that he was done with the conversation. How Soobin could tell it was him, he didn’t know. He thought that with the mask and different colored hair he could become an anonymous guest, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Yes, Taehyun, it's a big deal! You never show up to any party and suddenly, BAM! You pop up out of the blue wearing a velvet red coat and a white ruffled shirt. What’s your ulterior motive, huh?” Soobin squinted back at him.

“I don’t have any motives, Soobin. I’m just here because it's a masked party and no one should’ve been able to tell that I’m Kang Taehyun. However, that seems to have already failed because here you are blabbering to me about how I can’t even show up to one party.”

Soobin sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the railing behind him.

“Well, since you’re here, I need a favor from you.”

Taehyun groaned. “No, no, please don’t. I’ve had enough of your weird shenanigans. I’m not going to be your model for photography class again, or accompany you to climb Ruby Mountain just so you can pick flowers for your dumb bouquet crafting class.”

“Wow, excuse me! What’s with your petty attitude? Number one, bouquet crafting class is not dumb, it’s a new art form. Number two, this is not one of my ‘weird shenanigan’ favors, I just need you to talk to this girl I’m friends with.”

“I swear, Choi Soobin, are you trying to set me up?” Taehyun grimaced and looked at Soobin in disgust.

Soobin waved his hands in front of him in defense and blurted, “No, of course not! She just wants to talk to you to help her get something? I think? She didn’t explain it to me in detail. If you want to know, you should go ask her yourself.”

On any other night, Taehyun would’ve immediately rejected and made his way home. However, today was a special night, why not give it a go?

7.05PM

Taehyun frowned at the sight in front of him. She looks so out of place here, what is Soobin setting me up for?

“What do you want? Make it quick. I have places to go and things to do.” He tapped his foot and looked at his watch. She probably just wants royal connections, like everyone else..

“Hi, prince Taehyun. Oh wait, I’m sorry, no. Your majesty, good ev- ugh, no. That’s not right. Your highness, I have come to request a favor from you.” You clumsily curtsied, and looked at Taehyun with quivering eyes.

“Okay, cut the crap. Why are you really here? I wouldn’t be surprised if you just robbed me or-”

“Oh, no! I just need your help with...um..how should I explain this…” You glanced at the floor, and fiddled with the loose thread on your cheap tacky gown.

Taehyun sighed. “Look. Talk to me when you’ve figured things out. Otherwise, stop wasting my time.” He was about to stalk off when you suddenly shouted from behind.

“Okay, I’m sorry! Here’s what I need. I need you to sneak me in your chamber lab in the Kang Castle so I can grab...my...uh...things! Yes, my things! I left something there and I want it back!”

Taehyun stopped in his tracks and turned back. “I’m a prince. Out of all the favors you could ask me for, all you want is this? You could’ve just asked someone else.”

You were running out of ways to convince him. “Well, I need your help because there’s something I want to show you too! My new creation!” There, that should work. People like him get intrigued over inventions and such. All they want is money. This will make them money.

That statement alone persuaded Taehyun to let a mere stranger into his castle, his home, and let someone he barely knew into a room full of gadgets and dangerous items.

Kang Taehyun was an intellectual, but he should’ve known that curiosity always kills the cat.

- - -

7.29PM

“I’m so sorry, I never asked for your name.”

“Oh, it’s Y/N L/N! Nice to meet you!” You waved and innocently smiled. It was like you had forgotten that you were talking to a prince.

Y/N L/N. He mouthed the two words carefully. They sounded very familiar, and he felt like he had heard the combination of the two words before somewhere in conversation.

Taehyun expected that he would be going home early at some point in the masquerade party, but not with any girl. He wasn’t interested in courting anyone, but he knew that either way, his time would come and he would be arranged with a princess from a neighboring kingdom. However, he didn’t like you like that. He didn’t even know you, and he didn’t know what took over him when he amenably agreed to taking you with him.

“So, Prince Kang, how-“

“Just Taehyun.”

“Well, Just Taehyun, let’s get to know each other better! I’ve been friends with Soobin for a long, long time. We met when we were ten, in the Fenced Forest outside. We-“

“Wait, I’m sorry. Fenced Forest? Royals aren’t allowed to go there. Wha...how did Soobin manage to get out?”

Taehyun was the king of manners, but curiosity got the best of him and he just had to butt in. Soobin was the second prince of Choi Kingdom, the first being Choi Yeonjun and the third being Choi Beomgyu, who would follow suit after Soobin. Princes are usually kept under high security. There’s no way he could’ve gone out by himself without getting caught. Plus, who is this weird lady? She seems to be a commoner, how did she enter a high-end party without getting caught?

“Oh! About that...I snuck him out!” You proudly exclaimed, acting like it was the best Samaritan deed you had ever done.

Taehyun’s eyes enlarged twice its size. “You...you…” he was at a loss for words. Secretly, he wanted someone to sneak him out as well, but he was never going to say that.

Before you could respond with your weird, quirky remarks. The carriage stopped to a halt and the chauffeur in front got off, opening the side door for the two of you.

He stood at the side and gestured with a gloved hand to the front of the castle.

“Welcome back home, Prince Kang.”

Taehyun expected a similar welcome statement to be said to you, but the chauffeur only bowed at him, and nearly slammed the door in your face as you were exiting the gold carriage.

That’s so weird. Our chauffeurs always greet guests. Why was he so rude to Y/N?

The chauffeur was also wondering why Prince Kang was talking to himself just now on the ride home, but he didn’t dare to confront his dear prince and decided to just let the questionable behavior slide.

The both of you made your way inside, and began climbing the long flights of stairs to the Chamber Lab, which was on the highest floor of the Kang Castle.

- - -

8.38PM

“...right! He called me a buffoon, and then kicked me out! Who even does that?”

The both of you cracked up and a steel door came into view. The entrance to Chamber Lab.

You and Taehyun had been having mindless chatter in the past 45 minutes, and the both of you had bonded over a lot of things the two of you didn’t know you had in common. Alas, you both had reached the top.

Taehyun removed a key from the inner pocket of his coat, which you eyed warily, and he slid it inside the keyhole. With a rusty groan, the door popped open and you cautiously followed Taehyun inside.

Yes! Just as I expected! Everyone is at the masquerade party, so there’s no one inside right now. Plan A is working perfectly, you thought to yourself. In front of you, Taehyun glanced around at the empty lab. He removed his mask and set it aside on an empty table.

Taehyun didn’t really know what to think right now, He had caught feelings for you within the past hour. What are you thinking? You just met this commoner girl, and suddenly you want to court her?

The problem was that he really liked you, a lot. It wasn’t everyday he got to talk to someone without feeling like he was a royal. You completely ignored the social norms of this century and treated him like a friend, like an equal. The only other experience he had with people like this were the Choi brothers. To be frank, he was getting quite sick of them.

You were tinkering with a few buttons on a panel, and Taehyun looked back in shock and panic. “Y/N! You’re not supposed to touch that! Let’s just grab your things and we can go!”

“Well, Taehyun, remember the invention I wanted to show you? Come here.” You walked over to a translucent cylinder, and beckoned him to come over. Taehyun reluctantly shuffled over.

“Hey, Y/N, you forgot to take off your mask. Let me do it for you.” He was about to grab the elastic off your head, when you slapped his arm off fiercely. You tried to mask your angry expression with a small giggle.

“No! I like it, it’s quirky. Leave me alone.” You winked at him and he frowned at you.

The air had shifted, you knew you were running out of time.

“Okay, anyways. You want to see my invention, right? Ta-da!” You jazzed your hands in front of the green cylinder. “Go inside! It’s going to be fun!”

“And why should I trust you?” Taehyun quirked an eyebrow up and stepped back.

“Because! Because we’re friends! I trust you, so you trust me too!”

Taehyun reluctantly stepped into the small opening of the green cylinder. Maybe this thing is fun, it might send me flying. Heck! It could even help dad make some money!

You snickered to yourself and pressed a large red button on the side of the cylinder. The opening flap shut tight, creating an impossible-to-open vacuum seal. Taehyun was trapped inside, he just didn’t know it yet.

“Hey, Kang! You want to see me remove my mask right?” You smirked.

He nodded and shouted through the cylinder, “You look so weird with it!”

Wait till you see me without my mask, then you won’t be laughing anymore.

You slowly slid off your cheap off-brand feather mask, and innocently looked up at Taehyun.

Wait. I recognize her. Isn’’t she on my textbook? The front cover? L/N Kingdom...massacre...L/N Family...royal family killed…

All the memories from what he thought were useless history lessons were all rushing back to him.

“The Kang Massacre. A historical event of mass killing that changed the 5 neighboring kingdoms forever. Taehyun II, your great grandfather, ordered and arranged the burning of the L/N Kingdom’s royal palace. He hadn’t intended to spread the fire any further, but it hit the commoner’s village and in three days, the entire kingdom had burned down.” Taehyun could remember word-for-word what his teacher had said.

“...Y/N L/N was the oldest of the kingdom’s five children. Displaying amazing capabilities, she had the potential to be the next queen. Her body was found in her sister’s nursery room and placed in a special green cylinder for examination and autopsy. She was the only one of the five children to not be buried but cremated. Y/N L/N displayed amazing capabilities and had the potential to become the first queen of L/N Kingdom. If only such a tragic event hadn’t happened. Anyways, moving on! The biggest factor…”

It was all coming back now. He had seen a painted portrait of her on the front cover of his history textbook and he knew that this Y/N L/N was exactly the same as the Y/N L/N he had learned about. Their hair was the same, facial features, the same scar on her left cheekbone never left. He was getting scared, and he wanted to get out of the green cylinder fast.

“Um...uh….this is all fun and whatever, but what are you planning to do?” He was trying to keep his cool, but you could clearly hear the tremble in his voice.

“Cut the crap, Kang Taehyun. I know you know who I am. Let me tell you why I’m here.”

You, finally able to reveal your true self as a ghost, slid over the tables and went through the chairs to float right in front of Taehyun, while menacingly smirking and mocking his frightened expression.

“Let’s see...where should I begin? Ah, yes, the night I died. It was all your great granddad’s fault. All of it. The stupid idiot and my father got into a small argument and he decided to burn us all up into flames. I still remember that night vividly. I was in Aera’s room, playing with her and her new dolls. Next thing I know, smoke enters the room, followed by my coughing mother. She stands in front of Aera’s nursery and mumbles, ‘Y/N, revenge. Y/N, revenge.’ Mother collapses, and I fall into unconsciousness afterwards.”

You sidle up to Taehyun and (attempt to) press your nose against the sealed cylinder. “How is it, huh? Enjoying the story so far?”

Taehyun doesn’t respond. Regardless, you continue.

“When I wake up, I’m not in my body anymore. No, no, no, I’m looking at my dead body, in that green cylinder. It’s at that moment that I realize, I’ve turned into a freaking ghost. A ghost! I don’t have a body and this is my life now! At that point in time, I wished I could’ve ended this, but right now I love it. I have been alive for two hundred years and I will never die, or age. One day, I suddenly remembered about my mother’s last words, revenge. I swore upon myself to avenge for the death of my family and my entire kingdom, and started my plan to kill every single one of your family. Do you know where this is going?”

Taehyun is in the midst of trying to open the vacuum seal when you go through the cylinder and grimace at him. Taehyun shouts in surprise and scrambles all the way back until his body is plastered onto the cylinder walls and he cannot go any further.

You looked down at him with mock empathy and continuing telling your life story. “Well, I started with grabbing tools for my little plan. I was in Fenced Forest one day, and guess who I met? Ho ho ho, I met your dear friend, Choi Soobin. I wasn’t expecting to get so close to him, but when I found out that he was a close buddy of yours, I decided to keep the friendship, thinking that it may come into use later, and it did. I have been waiting for this exact moment my entire life. I was the one who convinced Soobin to ask his father to do a masquerade party, and I was the one who convinced him to invite you, even though he said you would never show up. Guess what? You did. Big mistake.” You enunciated the ‘I’s”, and gleamed proudly at the quivering boy.

“After doing some research downtown, I found out that this green cylinder that you’re in right now has the power to control the souls of mortals. I spent years and years recreating this invention, and now, it’s ready. For you. Do you want to know what will happen to you here?”

Taehyun slowly shook his head and looked down at the ground, trying to see if there was an exit somewhere.

There wasn’t any place to escape, anywhere. Taehyun’s body was stuck inside, and the only way he could escape was if his soul left his body behind, but he didn’t know that yet.

You squealed in excitement. You had been waiting for this moment your entire life, and you wanted to drag it on for as long as possible. “Guess what? I’m going to tell you anyway! I will click this cute little blue button on my right, which will suck out your soul! Did you hear that? Your soul! Then I will enter your empty corpse, and I will become Kang Taehyun! No one will know, because they won’t be able to tell. I can do anything I want when I’m in your body. Do you know what I’m going to do when I become you, stupid Kang Taehyun? I am going to go to your father’s throne room when no one else is around except him, and I will slash his throat, nice and slow. I will watch the life seep out from his dead body and then you know what I, as you, will do? I will burn his corpse in the throne room, and leave. I will walk around every inch of this idiotic palace and set fire to every part of it, until every single part of this castle is lit in flames. Oh, no! Aren’t you scared? Don’t worry, by that time every peasant, merchant, servant, and royal of the Kang Kingdom, will be dead. Fun, right?”

Taehyun tried slowly processing the information you were throwing at him. This is a dream. It’s a nightmare. Ms. Patricia, the housekeeper, will wake me up from my slumber anytime now. Y/N doesn’t exist, you never liked her. He pinched his skin and knocked on the surface of the cylinder.

Sadly, he was still very much alive. “Let me out! You idiotic psycho! I didn’t do anything my great grandfather did! I’m not him. We are two completely different people and the person you want to kill isn’t me, its him, but he’s dead. Give up, Y/N. Your mother’s words have already come to life a long time ago. My great grandfather died from an assassination.”

You tilted your head in response. You didn’t know about this piece of information. However, you had wasted too much time to figure out a way of sucking Taehyun’s soul out of his body that you just couldn’t believe him. You had gone ballistic. You had to end the Kang legacy, just like how his ancestors did for your family legacy.

“Sounds like false information to me. I am not going to stop here just because of one measly statement. I have been working for this for more than a hundred years, and I’m not letting my hard effort go to waste. Oh, won’t poor Soobinnie be so sad to hear that his good friend murdered his own family and kingdom. Whoopsies.” You stuck your tongue out and shrugged.

Taehyun realized that giving you false information wasn’t to get him out of this mess, so he resorted to pleading. “Please, Y/N. This is not my fault. I’m sorry, we can get over this. I can give you anything you want. Money? Rooms? Clothes? Heck, I can even give you love!”

You scowled at his cowering figure. “I want your empty body. I don’t want anything else. You are going to give it to me regardless.” You glided over to the blue button and hovered your arm over it.

“Any last words?”

“I...Y/N…I truly liked you. You were a nice person, and I know you still are. Deep down, you have real emotions and I’m sure you possess some form of empathy. Please Y/N. You can stop now. Is it because for all these years, no one cared for you? Did no one ask you how you were, or what you wanted? Well, I’m here. I can help you. I can give you a better life. You will be able to tell me anything and have everything. Please, Y/N...this is not the real you. You don’t have to do this.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from Taehyun to hide your vulnerability.

“I don’t need anyone or anything. I just want you gone. You don’t know me. I don’t want a better life. I want to avenge for my family and my kingdom. The Kang Kingdom has to pay for what they have done, and this is the only method that will suffice.”

While you sniffled and sobbed, you turned back to a teary Taehyun, and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

As more floods of tears came rolling down your face, you pressed the blue button, and looked away.

Taehyun’s body contorted back and forth, turning blue and eyes dilating. His corpse rose into the air and his limbs flailed back and forth, as if they were screaming for help. He could no longer control his body, and he couldn’t do anything about the agonizing pains that were seeping in. With one last jolt, his limp body fell back to the ground, returning to its normal color.

You peeked through the hands covering your eyes at the sight in front of you, and immediately, all empathy and sympathy from before disappeared. Taehyun’s soul had been disposed into another dimension, and he was now the least of your worries.

No one had talked to you like that before, no one had understood you so easily. No one seemed to care, until you met Taehyun.

Well, he was gone. You didn’t have to worry about showing your true emotions again.

You floated over to his empty corpse, and with a deep breath, you pushed down a small lever under the deck of the cylinder.

With a whirring noise, the cylinder started shaking, and you felt yourself fall into unconsciousness.

- - -

10.49PM

The guards all wondered what happened to Taehyun. It was like he had changed into a completely different person. He lost all forms of his mannerisms, and was rude to anything and everyone. The only person he treated decently was Choi Soobin, who had come to visit him after hearing about the events taking place. Even then, he had changed drastically within just three hours.

Taehyun walked past the two stationed guards outside the king’s throne room, who politely bowed to him. He completely ignored them and continued sauntering inside.

When the small ray of light from outside peeked through the translucent window, the item in Taehyun’s back pocket could be seen with a metallic shine. The guards should have questioned it, as well as the lit match he was holding when he walked inside.

- - -

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“… I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

---

Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx, @melodylangdon, @avocodys, @ahsbitch, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @accio-rogers

#Duncan Shepherd #Duncan Shepherd Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader #Duncan Shepherd Fic #Duncan Shepherd One Shot #Duncan Shepherd Smut #Duncan Shepherd Moodboard #Duncan Shepherd Writing #Duncan Shepherd Imagine #House Of Cards #House of Cards Imagine #HOC #HOC Imagine

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shiniyi-writes · 3 years

Text

Modern Day Bonnie and Clyde - Chapter One

For a better layout, read it on AO3

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„Miss Shadowhill, are you even keeping attention?“, the voice of my mentor, Dr. Lenning, sounded off from my Laptop. It made me jump.

„I'm sorry, Dr. Lenning“, I apologised to him, „I haven't slept much the last few days and I'm really lacking in concentration because of that.“

„Yeah, I can see that“, he chided me, „Do you want to talk about it?“

To talk about it? Nothing more than that, but I couldn't. He gave me his trust and I really don't want to betray him.

„Thank you very much for the offer“, I thanked him, „But I think this would be in the way of our student-mentor relationship“

„Well, alrigth, but if you should change your mind, you know how to reach me.“

I nod to that. I knew he just meant well, after all I knew the 'little helper syndrom', which many psychologists and psychotherapists had from myself. Maybe it was exactly this, what brought me in my current situation.

„Then we will meet again next week“, he told me, „Oh and remember that you need to pick a topic for your thesis soon.“

I startled when I saw the date on the bottom right corner of my Desktop and realised, that I really didn't have much time left to decide; but I gave my best to not show it in front of Dr. Lenning.

We said our goodbyes, I closed my Laptop and fell back into my office chair, very exhausted. In just a few month, I had to send in my doctoral thesis, if I want to have my doctoral degree in psychology ; but I couldn't concentrate for the sake of god.

The reason was, as I already told my mentor, that I haven't slept much the last few days and if I was able to sleep in, I woke up just after two to three hours.

But why I had such troubles sleeping? Well, it was easy to explain: I was really worried.

Worried about Jake.

A few days prior, I received his last message, after Lilly and I solved his puzzle. In it, he revealed two things to me: That he was Hannahs and Lillys half-brother and that he had to go into hiding, because his persecutors were closer to him as ever before.

To be honest, the first thing really didn't surprised me much. I already could imagine that he had to have some kind of connection to Hannah and I was pretty sure that he wasn't her lover. If he would have been and would have done all this because of that, he wouldn't have wrote this messages to me, which always made my heart beat faster whenever I read them.

The second thing still seemed so surreal to me. He already told me some time before, that he was wanted by the government and his messages also became less after that. But he still made sure to message me at least all three days, even if he just told me he was OK.

But this wasn't the case now, so I was completely uncertain if he was alright and safe. I was really worried that they caught him and would do terrible things to him. I already accompanied Dr. Lenning many times to appointments with his clients in prison and saw what it did to them. This people could be the hardest and most ruthless people you have ever seen, but the prison had broke anybody of them.

I took a deep breath, so I could sort my thoughts. At least there was one spark of hope, which kept me from going nuts. This spark of hope was #iamjake.

It was Lillys idea. With this Hashtag, under which many people already made a post, Jakes persecutors should have a harder time to find him, but we didn't know if it works.

Somehow I had to distract myself from this negativ thoughts, even if it was just for a moment. I schwung myself on my feet and walked around my desk towards my bed on the other site of the room. On top of it lay my cloth for the night: A long negligee out of vinous satin and a dressing gown of the same kind of fabric in black.

I peeled myself out of my cloth and when I said peeled, I really meant so. I loved Lolita-Fashion in dark colors, my whole closet was full of it. I thought it was really stylish, but putting an outfit on, or in this case off, was pretty complicated. First I got rid of my jewelery: My earings, the long necklace, my rings and the artifical rose, which rested in my hair. After that, my dress fell to the ground, which was colored in black and violett and was also made of satin. I picked it up and threw it on my bed, before I also got rid of my black tights.

Last but not least, there was still my corset. I didn't tie it as tight as this ladys from past times, nonetheless it was a good feeling to be out of it after a long day.

I will put the dress to the laundry later. Now, I loosened my hair, which was tied up into a bun. My brown locks fell over my shoulders and stopped at the middle of my back. Slowly, I felt the tension disappering from my scalp.

I slipped into my negligee and into my dressing gown. Now that I was dressed into something more comfortable, I would go into the kitchen, get myself a glas of whine and would read a good book, while sitting in front of my chimney. I knew that drinking never solved any problems, but it should be ok if I have just one glas.

So, I left my bedroom and walked through the long corridor towards the stairs. My house was an old manor house out of the 19th century. Upstairs was my bedroom, my bathroom and a lounge. Downstairs were the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, two other bathrooms and the corridor towards my employees appartments.

Now somebody could ask how a woman in her twenties, who's giving psychological guidance sometimes while she is writing her doctoral thesis, could affort this. To be honest, I couldn't under normal circumstances, but that is another story.

I quickly walked down the stairs. Dimmed lights were burning in the entrance hall, so people could still see, if they need to walk through at night. The big grandfather-clock showed that it was a few minutes after midnight, everyone else was probably already asleep.

I reached the end of the stairs and navigated towards the kitchen, when suddenly the lights on the patio lighted up. They worked by a motion detector, which meant that somebody was in front of the door. Was somebody still outside after all?

My question was negated, when the person knocked on the door just a few seconds later.

All of my employees had a key for this house and if somebody should have forgotten it, they mostly called for someone to let them in. That meant there was somebody else in front of the door, but what did a stranger want in the middle of the night?

Carefully, so my silhouette wouldn't show through the windows in the door, I walked towards a commode which stood next to the stairs. I oppened the drawer and grobed in it, until I had what I was looking for. It was a already loaded revolver.

It may sound a little crazy, but since I was involved in Hannahs case and received threats by the Man without a face, I became a little paranoid. Sure, I lived a long distance away from Duskwood, but you couldn't be carefull enough. Besides, with my 5' 1'' body height, I definitely couldn't beat someone in close combat.

They knocked again.

I slowly walked towards the door, lay my hand on the iron handle and opened the door for a little gap, to see who was standing there. I held the revolver behind my back while doing this.

In front of the door was a man, who was a whole had taller than me. His hood was hiding his face and he was drenched by the rain, which was falling the whole evening allready.

„Please excuse the late disturbance“, he said; his voice was deep but also gentle, „My car broke down at the street and I don't have any tools with me, would you have some I could borrow?“

At least he was polite, but that doesn't have to mean anything.

„I sure have some tools here“, I said, „But you could also call the breakdown service from here, if you want.“

„I... am uninsured, so I'd rather look after the car myself“

It was suspicous that he had to think about his sentence at the beginning, but what a human being would I be, if I would send him away now?

Damn to my helper-syndrom!

„Come in for now, I will look for the tools.“

I opened the door completely to let him in, but he hesitated.

„You don't have to let me in, I don't want to be any trouble to you“, he said.

That was odd. If he would have bad intentions, he would have get in without hesitation, won't he?

„You will catch your death, if you stay outside in this drenched cloth“, I said while tugging on the fringe of his sleeve, so he would move.

He eventually gave in and walked into the entrance hall. Under the pretext that I wanted to close the door, I stepped behind him and quickly hid the revolver in an inside pocket of my bathrobe, which I let one of my housekeepers sew in a while ago.

„I'm getting you a towel, so you can dry yourself a bit, then I'm looking for tools.“

With this words, I walked in the direction of my employees apartments, where one of the other bathrooms were located.

Odd enough, I came down here to let loose of some thoughts, but now many more where forming in my head.

I just let a completely stranger in my house!

Some people could say a soon to be doctor should be more intellegient than that...

Well, now it's to late to do anything about it, so I opened up the drawer of the white commode, which stood under the lavatory, and pulled out a towel, before heading back to the entrance hall.

The man was currently browsing around the hall, when I came back.

„You have a really nice place here“, he said.

I thanked him for the compliment and gave him the towel.

After he took the textile from me, he finally took of his hood and I was able to see his face. He had dark blue eyes and lightly sharp jawline. But what was the most eye-catching about his looks, were his tousled raven hair.

When I looked at him, a sudden thought arised in my head. This description would be kind of fitting for...

No... that couldn't be.

It would be too much of a coincidence.

Or wouldn't it?

„...Jake?“, a whisper escaped my mouth.

Directly after realising what I just said, I slammed my hand in front of my mouth. Damn it, did I really just said this out loud?

I looked into the mans face and... was I just imagine things, or did he look shocked?

„How do you know my...“, he wanted to ask, but paused midsentence; just as if he realised something, „Wait... Aurelia?“

#duskwood everbyte #Jake x MC #Jake x OC #duskwood Jake #duskwood

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thalmor-banjo · 3 years

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I thought I'd share this little bullshit snippet. I'm taking a break from like all other forms of social media, but felt bad because I haven't posted any original content in what feels like agesssssssss.

So, here we are! It's a piece I wrote a long time ago (think before December) for Cerrebryn and Ondolemar. His voice is like really good in this one??? Like normally I write him with an American accent (cause that's what I have and I'm lazy), but writing him in the BBC accent (forget what it's called, see above description: lazy) worked like really well? I'll warn you though, it was just a little blurb the brain worm was niggling at me to write so it ain't the best. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Calcelmo Gets A Date

Cerrebryn skipped up the stairs. Dinya Balu had sent her to Markarth. Her mission? Spreading Mara’s message. It was midday, yet her target was still at work. He never seemed to rest or eat. Aicantar shot her a warning glance as she walked up to his uncle. She tapped on his shoulder and waited.

After a moment, he answered, “Yes, yes, what do you need? I’m a very busy man.” She grinned, “Calcelmo of Markarth?” He flapped a hand impatiently at his enchanting table, “I have no time for such pleasantries.” “I’ve been sent by Lady Mara.” His demeanor instantly changed. The wizard turned, joy sparking in his amber eyes, “I was beginning to worry you’d never arrive. Come, take a walk with me.” They left Ancarion behind in a stupor.

He led her up the nearby tower and took a seat on a spindly stool. “I hope you’ll excuse an old man’s paranoia. I’ve been thinking about her quite a bit. Do you know Faleen?” He said her name like a prayer, devotion obvious even in his tone. “The Jarl’s Housecarl?” Calcelmo nodded, “Yes. She is a beauty like none other. Even the fairest maidens of Alinor could never compare.” Noticing he was rambling, he coughed and continued, “My trouble is, I can’t seem to speak around her. My mouth goes dry and I begin shaking...or maybe that’s the side effects of prolonged exposure to Aetherium? An interesting thought, but I digress.” Cerrebryn sighed, a familiar Thalmor face flashing through her mind, “I understand. Is there anything you can talk about?” The old man shook his head wearily, “Faleen can turn on you fast as a sabercat if you bring up the wrong topic. I’ve seen it happen.” “Is there anyone she’s close to that we can talk with?” His brow furrowed, “Only one, Yngvar. Would you speak to him for me?” She nodded tiredly and left. It was strange how she was also roped into these matters.

She stepped out into the waning sunlight and stretched. Cerrebryn snorted. Mara had sent her on a quest to heal the broken hearts of Skyrim, yet she had one as well. It seemed like the divines had a sense of irony at least. It could never happen anyway. The Thalmor were an order of warriors famed for their rigidity and focus on pure-blooded breeding. Shaking her head, she dispelled those notions and kept walking.

Yngvar was resting against the side of a bridge, picking his teeth with a dagger. “Do you know what Faleen likes?” He glanced up at her, danger dancing in his eyes, “What’s it to you?” “I have a mission from the temple of Mara.” “Is that some roundabout way of saying you fancy her?” She paused, debating whether she should reveal Calcelmo’s affections, “Not me, but a friend.” He smiled slyly, “I see. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’m glad; Faleen needs a little warmth. Her soft spot is poetry.” Cerrebryn thanked him, turning to leave. After two steps he called out, “You know, I was trained as a bard.” She pivoted and he continued, “I’ve got an old poem for a lady from Rorikstead. I could change it...if you’ve got the coin.” “How much?” “Two hundred.” She easily removed the Septims from her pouch and handed them to the brute. “Let me write it down so you won’t forget.” Yngvar scratched away at the paper with his bit of charcoal. Cerrebryn had pulled out Lydia’s latest letter from home. “Who is this poem from?” She stopped reading, “Calcelmo.” He laughed, “That sly old codger.” Finished, the poem traded hands, “Tell him I wish his endeavor luck.”

The sun had set while she was outside, and all the torches were being lit across the city and into the Keep. Edging around one of the guards assigned with the job, she skipped up to the dias. Faleen immediately tensed, but relaxed when she realized who it was. Raerek grinned at her, always the kindest person in the Keep. “Can I help you, young one?” She shook her head, hair becoming a bit disheveled, and chirped, “Nope! Just here to drop something off for Faleen!” The Redguard woman glanced up suddenly when the folded sheet was thrust into her hand. “Apologies if some of it is smudged, I-” The other woman opened the paper and read it. Then, she ripped a sheet of parchment off a shelf and began scribbling rapidly with a fresh quill. The steward and Jarl exchanged nervous glances, but they went unseen.

When she turned around, Faleen’s eyes were filled with stars. “Would you mind delivering this for me?” She sighed softly at the end of her sentence and Cerrebryn giggled behind her hand. Taking the paper, she left, announcing, “Off I go!” She walked with haste, this time bumping into the object of her affections. The Thalmor’s large hands caught her around the waist, preventing what would have been a nasty fall, “Cerrebryn, what is the meaning-” She plucked his arms (she swooned on the inside, realizing they were corded with muscle) off her body, and sheepishly smiled back at him as she ran off, “Sorry Ondolemar! I’ve got a delivery to make!”

In truth, she would have liked to spend a millennium in those arms. But, she was on an errand that shouldn’t be delayed. Matters of the heart are things of the now, not of the thousand years later. The woman ran through the tunnel, nearly tripping on a stray piece of rubble. Calcelmo was sitting on a bench, deeply immersed in examining a chip of Aetherium. She skidded to a stop at his feet, puffing, “From...Faleen...” Aicantar stared at the odd pair. The conjurer ripped it out of her hand and shot to his feet, “This is...fantastic! If you’ll excuse me, I must go see Faleen.” And with that, he ran out of the workshop. Frankly, he was faster than she had thought he could go.

Cerrebryn trailed behind him, still a bit winded. He continued running, straight up to the Housecarl. She peeked around the dias’s corner, like a child. Igmund’s brows had raised in surprise, but Raerek just continued serenely smiling. Calcelmo fidgeted, his large frame towering over the smaller woman. “Faleen...I...” She captured his hand with her own, “Shhh, no need for words...I never realized you were so nuanced.” He stared down at her, then clutched their joined hands to his heart, “I love you.” She smiled radiantly, “So I hear. Come here, you.” Then, using her warrior’s strength, she dipped him and joined their lips. Igmund stared at his steward, eyes bulging, a mix of surprise and slight horror plain across his features. Raerek simply shrugged.

Cerrebryn grinned, glad they were happy. Helping Dinya and the Temple was rewarding and worth any long trips zigzagging the province. Someone was sneaking nearer to her. The only warning was a rustle of robes and a whiff of Dragon’s Breath. The air above her ear warmed with his breath. “Was that your doing?” She glanced back at Ondolemar and her lips quirked upwards in a slight grin, “Dinya sent me on a mission. I just had to!” He sighed, “Must you fix everything?” Her grin widened a bit, “You know me. Everyone deserves a happy ending.” Ancarion wandered in, disgust and shock warring on his face at the sight of his uncle and the Housecarl locking lips. The couple split apart, Raerek clapping lightly. He stumbled back to the workshop with a befuddled expression.

His chest brushed against her back as he leaned in further, “Except you, right?” She bit her lip a bit at the slight huskiness of his voice. It was surely unintentional but made him all the more attractive. “I’ll get mine eventually. After all, there’s still nearly three hundred years left for me. If it takes two hundred seventy-five, at least I helped some folks!” Ondolemar chuckled lightly, changing the subject entirely, “Could I speak with you outside Dibella’s temple at midnight?” Cerrebryn nearly fainted. Was he asking to have a courtship meeting?! She quickly chastised herself. No, a “superiorly bred mer” wouldn’t sully himself with someone who wasn’t a purebred Alinor maiden. The woman nodded happily anyway, excited, “It’s a date!”

#elder scrolls #ondolemar #fanfic #quest rewrite #i'm so sorry #hope you enjoy #skyrim

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astranne · 3 years

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FanFiction.net MASTERLIST

Here are the FanFiction I’ve read on FanFiction.net. Hope you’ll enjoy!

For each recommendation I’ve linked the story to the title and wrote/copied a little summary. Please remember that many stories are rated M or E, if not stronger. Read on your own risk!

justhugefangirl’s masterlist

fanfiction recommendation masterlist

Love’s Labour Found by Peanutbuttertoast1

The War may be over, but Hermione Granger's life is just starting as her true heritage is revealed. Being the Heir to the Throne of England and a real life Princess is just the beginning of Hermione's story...but how will the Wizarding World react when they learn the Golden Girl and Gryffindor Princess is really a real life Royal?

This fanfic os one of my favourites, read it already three times- I can’t. It’s perfect, okay? For me it’s perfect.

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A Witch in Gotham by Peanutbuttertoast1

After the Second Wizarding War, a curse rips through the Magical World, leaving devastation in its wake. Hermione Granger is tasked to find the reason, and the cure before more lives are lost. Retreating into the Muggle World to start over, Hermione finds her way to Gotham City as Mia Black, Head of the Black Foundation. Her decision to help the Batman changes her life forever.

A perfect crossover- honestly, this author is perfect. As well this story. I don’t link more of the authors work but there are some other ones which are just ... perfect.

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Mischief Managed by fringeperson

A man with black hair, green eyes and pale skin watched over a child with black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and a variant of the Elder Futhark rune Sowilo etched upon his brow.

Mischief Mastered (part of story)

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Green Eyes and Red Hair by fringeperson

He was a practical joker with messy black hair. She was a talented woman with bright red hair. It turned out that they both had green eyes. Their daughter, when she came, was untouchable for more reasons than one. Loki-is-James, Natasha-is-Lily, Rogue-is-Fem!Harry.

I love the relationship between Loki and Natasha :)

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Love on Her Arm by Eye Greater Than Three

During a trip to Gringotts, Hyacinthe Potter discovered she met her soulmate, William Weasley. Bill/Hyacinthe. female!Harry.

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The Winter Witch by Kneazle

Hermione realized it began with a sense of Impending Doom and finished with a battle outside her tent. The deciding line between staying and helping Robb Stark, or returning to her universe, is getting harder to see the longer she's in Westeros. But it's a decision that she has to make, or it's one that will be made for her. Part 1 & Part 2 complete! Part 3 now ongoing.

This... is one of my favourites crossovers,,, the slowburn between Hermione and Robb,,, and it’s so fluff,,, I’m such a sucker for dark stories but this is just pureness and ugh-

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Moratorium by Darkpetal16

Harry Potter could never be the hero. But, she might make a great villain. Satire. Parody. -COMPLETE- F!Harry Fem!Harry Gray!Harry.

Uhm- this is one of the darker fics I love. It’s very good written, cause of this I really don’t mind the ship fem!Harry x Tom Riddle

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A Life Twice Lifed by Nemesis13

Draco Malfoy died at the venerable age of 107, and who awaited him at the crossroads? His mother? His wife? No, it had to be his eccentric former rival, eventual best friend, and far too often partner in chaos Harry Potter. Oh, and of course he had a deal to offer Draco to live his life anew, and obviously there was a caveat to it all that he wasn't privy to, damn Potters.Fem!Draco

Ahh, Drarry. How I love this ship

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Persephone by dulce.de.leche.go

Better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. Better still to be the consort of Hades than a part of his collection of souls. Ten years after Voldemort has won the war, Hermione reaches a breaking point and shreds the flow of time to change her future. If she can't change the world, she will change her place in it. Extremely dark Tomione/Volmione. Warnings inside.

As already written in the summary, this fic is hella dark. So if you don’t like dark fics (especially with all the warnings mentioned in the first chapters) don’t read. I still love it tho-

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The Muddy Princess by Colubrina

Just another Pureblood!Hermione story. A hidden adoption revealed, a brother found, a new world to figure out: "What are you hoping for?" he asked as they stood ready to do the spell. "I don't know," Hermione admitted. "You?" His knuckles were white on his wand. "A sister," he said, his voice very low, "I'm hoping for a sister."

There are more stories from this author which are just- awesome and absolutly perfect, like the next ones. Since they have over 60, I won’t link every work here.

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Lady of the Lake by Colubrina

Hermione and Draco team up after the war to overthrow the Order and take over wizarding Britain. They have plans and they'll get power, but the cost of victory may be higher than they expected and more than they can bear. Dark Dramione. COMPLETE

This is perfection. Nothing more to say.

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Dark Cherry Chapstick by Colubrina

Hermione returns for an optional 8th year after the war and Draco Malfoy, also back at Hogwarts at his mother's request, notices she's changed. A brief dip into the 'makeover' trope AND the 'goth' trope in one fic. ONE SHOT. Dramione.

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The Green Girl by Colubrina

Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Darkish Dramione. COMPLETE

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The Last Peverell by animerocker 646

Being the Master of Death made life difficult, especially when you need to save all of magical Europe from inbreeding its way to extinction. At least Death was enjoying watching his Master attempt this over and over again. Harry didn't find it nearly as entertaining. Well, tenth times the charm right? (FemHarry)

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Soft, Low, English Accent by Tsume Yuki

'God, you've got a beautiful voice.' Hariel always found it funny, that of all the things her soulmate could take note of -the messy hair, the bright green eyes, the scar- it's her voice he points out first. FemHarryxMatt

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Bless the Broken Road by Tempestas D. Uzu

Her resolve crumbled in the face of Pietro Maximoff's scruffy good looks and warm blue eyes, and she found herself falling for another person who would be doomed to die for her selfishness. (One Shot)(fem!HarryXPietro)(cannon-divergent)(full warnings inside)

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The Death of Natasha Romanoff by Philosophize

While helping to stop Stane, Natasha encounters a face she never thought she'd see again. Forced to deal with memories, decisions, and a life she thought she'd long left behind, will she survive the emotional upheaval, not to mention the rampaging, homicidal Stane? Or will she have to face her fears & transform herself, becoming once again what she once was? AU; fem!Harry; femslash

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Code Of Conduct by tlyxor1

A year after the war, Gwen Potter joins SHIELD. It's a life in the shadows, and a perpetual dance with death, but for the Witch Who Won, SHIELD - and Clint Barton - is exactly what she needs. She just doesn't know it yet. AU. Clint/Gwen. Fem!Harry. Pre-MCU. Post-Hogwarts, Post OOTP. Discontinued.

It already says it’s not finished,,, but oh well- I still liked it.

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The Almost Forgotten Marriage Contract of 1763 by worldtravellingfly

What would you do when suddenly confronted with a 200+ years old marriage contract by a teen and her lawyer? Run for the hills? Call the nice guys with the white jackets? Certainly not - agree? Well, Tony Stark always was a bit unique.

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Some Hearts by sakurademonalchemist

Robin Black was a bound witch. However, as the new Mistress of Death she was able to break free to Asgard and prepare to reap her vengeance. What she didn't count on was falling for a certain green-eyed, silver-tongued God of Mischief or being hit by Time Sand before the war restarted. Can she make her way back to Loki, or will she be stuck on Earth? FEM HARRY! YOU WERE WARNED!

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A Man of Honor by bloomsburry-dhazel

One day, Lyanna Stark discovers an unconscious man in the Wolfswood. Not knowing who he is, she takes him back to Winterfell where he is nurse back to health... Steve Rogers can't remember what happened to him, or how he ends up there, but he does remember who he is. He is Captain America, and somehow he has become Lyanna Stark's sworn shield.

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The Origin of The Black Widow by The Black Shadowx

The story of how the Black Widow became to be. detailed description of her life in the Red Room and what happened when she defected. this is my own creation so if things appear that is not in the comics thats the reason. i don't things can ever be too far stretched so excuse me if it gets weird. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING TO DO WITH MARVEL . WRITTEN FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY

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will be updated...

#masterlist #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #harry potter #marvel #dc #crossovers #got #game of thrones #honestly #why do i even put tags here #justhugefangirl recommends {📑}#fanfiction recommendation {📚}#justhugefangirl creates {🌹}

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gloves94 · 4 years

Text

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 7

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

Feeling smug about the events at the abbey and riding that beast around the land Tsai decided to go for a walk to clear her head.

Should she have done more to capture the Avatar?

It would've been wrong to steal Zuko's glory. After all he had made capturing the Avatar his life's mission and who was she to try and take that away from him? And then he always said that she only got in the way. This thought irked her to no end. 'If only he knew,' a cocky smirk made way to her face.

xxx

'Again!' Her grandfather had once said to her.

'But grandpa! I'm so tired. We've been practicing all day the nine year old dropped to her knees exhausted. 'Mecha doesn't even have train half as much as I do with his fire bending.'

He looked at her with hard brown eyes.

'Mecha can afford to be weak. He has the gift of fire bending and I'm afraid you don't.' She lowered her light brown eyes sadly. 'You're always going to work twice as hard for everything that you want Tsai. Both as a woman and as a non-bender.' He explained.

He took in a deep breath before the older man took a fighting stance. The man was about to bark again but instead changed his mind. 'Come with me,' he had said turning away calmly instructing his grand daughter to follow. 'I want to give you something.'

xxx

The girl toyed with the choker sunstone necklace around her neck. He had given it to her that day and she had seldom taken it off. Her grandfather had said it had once belonged to her grandmother. An elegant lady from the Fire Nation whom Tsai had never met since she passed the day in which she was born. Her grandfather rarely spoke about her, she always assumed the memory was too painful for the man. However, in family portraits and paintings she had seen that they both shared the indistinguishably blazing red hair.

Zuko had been terribly rude to her the day before so he deserved to suffer out his paralysis for a little while longer. She did not want to be around by the time that June awoke and face her wrath and she had the feeling that Iroh was in a heavenly bliss with the beautiful woman laying on him. And so she traveled the local market and took her sweet time buying rare herbs, tea and even some local perfumes and lotions as souvenirs for her family.

She took her sweet time, even pulling her wrist to her nose every once in a while to enjoy the scent of her new perfume. However, as she attempted to steer her thoughts clear she kept on flashbacking to the Avatar's expression as their eyes met across the abbey. She still hadn't figured how to interpret that. The Avatar, he was a symbol for equality. Maybe just maybe he would be able to help her bring some peace to her nation... Would she be considered an aid to him? Letting him go like that? She would've become a blood traitor to not only her family but to her nation. The daughter of the Vice-Royal Governor a traitor to her own people- she shook her head not even wanting to think of the royal chaos that would be.

She still debated if she had done the right or wrong decision in not fighting the Airbender. There was something about it that bothered her to no end.

The sun was setting by the time that Tsai arrived on the ship. She arrived just in time to see the soldiers stepping out.

"We're going to the local market for some supplies," explained the cook. "While the mechanics check the ship engine and make sure everything is well functioning." Not giving it much mind the girl nodded and walked in. "Also-" Added the lieutenant. "This arrived for you," he said handing her a scroll that arrived with one of the ship's fire hawks.

It had to be from Mecha! She grinned broadly and leaned against the one of the ship's walls cooly as she unwrapped the scroll snacking on some mixed nuts she had gotten at the market.

Her heart stopped and a nut went the wrong way when she read the words that her brother had writte. She beat her chest in an effort to lodge it out of place and gasped at the attached paper he sent.

It was a WANTED - REWARD poster with her face plastered on it. The charges were the following: obstruction of justice, breaking in entering restricted military premises and being an accomplice and aiding of enemies of the Fire Nation. Under the information was a very well descript drawing of her. Names: Unknown, alias "Haru".

'Tsai,

Tell me why my sister 's face is on a wanted poster and goes by the alias of "Haru?"

This is either the coolest of the dumbest thing you have ever done. (Know that I am having it framed and hanged in my room). I have been hiding the posters from mom and dad and the rest of You Dao but it won't be long before somebody realizes that it is you and identifies you. I'm afraid you can't get very far with that bloody hair color of yours my dearest sister.

A traitor to the nation huh? Just what are you doing in that boat with the banished prince and his uncle? I have been taking care of all of your governing duties, so do not worry about that. Baku, Moss and Ana send their helloes. It's been nice getting to know some of your friends.

(Mother keeps asking if we should plan a Royal wedding- ignore that. (She insisted that I wrote that.) I had to remind her that you are ONLY just sixteen.)'

She rapidly flipped the page of the scroll and read his inked words in the back.

'And in regards of the Avatar.' He began. 'I wish I could just ship the library to you. But after extensive research I'm afraid I didn't find much. I mean why would there be any texts about the Avatar in the Fire Nation colonies to begin with?

However, here is what I can tell you. Air benders are particularly skilled in defensive techniques. They were known to be peaceful people, have mainly vegetarian diets, their leadership was guided by monks- they are known to be fast and easy on their feet. One hasn't been seen in more than a hundred years. Also apparently they were famous for their custard pies.

In regards of the Avatar- His last life was Avatar Roku born in the Fire Nation, the next will be born a water bender. You see the Avatar follows a cycle. Fire, Air, Water and Earth. It follows this cycle over and over again and must master the elements in that order. In this case it's going to be Air, Water, Earth and Fire. Get what I mean?

I hope I was of help. I miss you Tsai. Please be safe. Do not make me worry. I don't know how much dad can do to pardon you if you get into too much trouble.

Be safe, please.

If you're getting in trouble... I hope it's worth it.

- Mecha'

The nuts slipped off her hand and spilled all over the floor. She ran inside of the Captain cabin on the deck's floor where she knew that all of the maps and Avatar information was being kept. She pointed a finger at it and lightly traced the map with her finger. It seemed as if Zuko had been following the Avatar's trail all the way from the Southern Water Tribe up north. He had been traveling north for some months now and simply seemed to be climbing higher and higher in the map. It was then that the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"He's going to the Northern Water Tribe," she breathed her finger landed on the icy north pole. It made sense. The Avatar had already mastered air, he had to master water now if he wanted to advance to the next element.

"He's going to the water tribe," she repeated again almost in disbelief. She had figured it out. Her grip tightened around the letter her brother had sent. Dropping the goods she had bought she sprinted outside and tore the letter into the ocean. She leaned over the rail her eyes following the bits and pieces of paper that drifted down to the black waters and vanished into the darkness of the sea.

She had to get out of here. And fast. Before Admiral Zhao's men came to lock her up and collect their reward. She felt that Zuko wouldn't hesitate in fingering her over to the Fire Nation authorities. He'd be more than glad to have her of his ship! What if they got in trouble? What if her family got in trouble?

She had done a grave mistake. Feeling her anxiety churning in her stomach she quickly turned around ready to gather her belongings and leave but suddenly stopped in her way. Prince Zuko was standing a few feet away on the ship's deck and he did not look happy. He wore his hair up, his eyes appeared to glow with the sun which was setting behind them. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't only unhappy, he was fuming, absolutely and completely livid.

"You!" He snarled out. He stomped towards her. "You had him in front of you and you let him go!" He put his hands on her and shoved her in a provocative matter. "What are you talking about?" She scoffed back pushing his hands of her person. "The Avatar!" The other roared. "He spoke to you! You had him in front of you and you let him go!" He raged.

In Zuko's eyes this was the greatest betrayal. She had had the opportunity to capture his honor. To help him. To for once to help him reach his ultimate goal and she didn't. Instead she stood there and conversed with the enemy. She was a snake. A beautiful venomous red snake that would slowly consume him.

"How could you do this to me?!" His voice cracked and he shuffled uncomfortably at the crack of his emotions.

"How could I do this?" She raised an eyebrow confused. "What did you want me to do? Knock him out with my bare hands?," She once again scoffed at his ridiculous suggestion with heavy sarcasm. "I guess I just didn't want to "Get in your way,"" She said nastily before brushing past him brushing past his shoulder as she passed him.

She didn't see it. The rage and anger that was boiling inside of him like a volcano ready to explore.

"Agni Kai! You and Me. Now!" He demanded, his voice hard and void of emotion. She looked over her shoulder and huffed before shaking her head.

"You can't do that," she turned once again granting him her full attention. Her eyes momentarily drifted to the dock. Just where was Iroh? Or anybody else? SOMEBODY that could intervene.

"Now!" He roared once again.

"You're insane," she said eyes blowing wide with a blend of shock and fear. "You've gone mad. I'm not like my brother. I can't bend fire."

It was then that he walked towards the nearby wall and grabbed a broom that was leaning against the wall. With one swift movement he split it into two breaking it over his knee.

"Who said anything about fire?" He said raising up he a half of the broom in one hand and aggressively thrusting it in her direction. She shifted her body dodging it and looked at him perplexed before he threw the other half at her, the half with the hay sticks at the end that was functional for sweeping. She barely caught it and held it awkwardly between her hands.

She was beginning to regret ever coming abroad this ship. This was a huge mistake. Coming on this trip. It was then that he charged towards her, and now Zuko was going to make a roasted kabob out of her.

"I am not going to fight you!" She protested as she dodged his swift attacks. She blocked another with her makeshift broom sword. "Zuko stop!" She pleaded.

He attacked again. "Good reflexes, "he complimented the slightest grin on his face.

"I'm trying my best," she struggled but failed to hide the odd smirk that was also growing on her features.

It was finally that with a handful of clever hits and swats he whipped the wooden sword out of her hands. Her back was pressed against the deck's railing she was cornered and heaving. Sweat slid down her temple from the strain of fighting him. He presently had the wooden stick directly pointed at her throat.

It was almost night now. With the sun glowing an orange light and the clouds turning shades of pink, lavender and dark purple.

"I said, I wasn't going to fight, and there's no honor in winning a one sided battle." She appeared distraught as she looked down at the pointy end of his 'weapon'. He wanted to push her to the edge. He wanted to see that darkness he knew she was hiding beneath the layers of poise and properness that she carried herself with. He wanted to know who was that vicious person he found skulking around the Pohuai Stronghold. He had to know what she was hiding - all of her vile secrets.

"Ever since you arrived on my ship you have been nothing but a pest! You are irritating! You distract my Uncle and I can't stand you." He took a deep breath. "What do you want?" He demanded inching the stick dramatically. She remained silent, only looking at him with horrified eyes. "What do you want? Why are you really here?" He shouted his voice getting rougher and louder with each sentence He tossed the broom stick to the side and his hands pried themselves to her upper arms as he held her in place. "Why are you-"

This. It was just like that other night. She knew that Zuko had many inner and outer demons to fight, but would he actually hurt her? She wanted to slap herself for letting out a vulnerable whimper as his voice became more stern. He saw her eyes become large as they welled with tears. "Why are you-" His voice was softer now, almost a whisper. The strong grip on her arms became more gentle.

Zuko hated this part of himself. The instinctual one that reminded him of his father. The one that made his blood go and his temper fly in an uncontrollable rage which had been feed by years of mental and physical abuse. For a split second he saw himself in her eyes. And then it happened- He saw the shift in her poise as her eyes darkened with ill intent. Her hand jolted forward fisting the neckline of his armor just like she had done that fateful night of the Blue Spirit. She pulled him close, so close to her that she could see drops of honey being reflected in her eyes.

"Listen," she managed to utter in a menacing tone. He silenced her threat by kissing her.

Tsai felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on her. Her grip on his armor weakened, she attempted to inch back but was caught between the railing and his body. His kiss was soft, gentle, almost shy. She had not expected it to be like this. She wasn't expecting to feel a full body chill and a fire stir in the core of her stomach. It took her a full moment to react and with a hand flat against his chest she pushed him back, keeping him at arms length. Her eyes wide, her expression unreadable.

He turned away before she could speak. What had he done? What had she done?

"Zuko!" She reached for his arm and held it. "Wait!" She held him back. He pulled his arm back and glared at her. His eyes filled with hurt and rejection. For a moment she had forgotten all about the anger, about the fight, about their agni kai and honor. The wanted poster and her plan to run away.

"I'm....confused," she admitted.

His expression remained stoic, lips drawn into a thin line as he remained silent. "You always remind me how you want me off your ship. You repeatedly address me as a pest. I thought you hated me- and now you- you kiss me?"

"Why don't you make your rejection less painful and just tell me it's never going to happen?" He snapped.

He was presently beating himself up for what he had just done. Unsure of his uncontrollable emotions. He regretted it so much. There was no way that a girl like Tsai would ever be interested in somebody like him. Specially somebody as hideous and temperamental. A banished prince with an obvious facial deformity. A beast. It was impossible.

"It.. It's not that," she admitted shyly. Her face glowing with a tint of a red blush.

He could not believe it. He felt her hand reach for his and hold it. He marveled at how perfectly it fit against it. Her fingers tucked in between his. He held it tightly, proudly. Not knowing when he would miss the absence of her heat.

"I've seen good in you Zuko. I've seen compassion, I've seen empathy," she stepped closer. "I know there's goodness in you and it's not only because of your many redeemable qualities," she spoke tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She gave a step closer to him.

"But you are also troubled, you're obsessive, and very rude towards your loving uncle, towards me, and let's not forget my family, which is something I cannot forgive." She leaned in close and he flinched slightly when she gently placed her hand on his cheek, leaned in and kissed his scarred face lightly. He felt as if he had been brushed with a rose's petal.

"What you're saying is, you can't be with me until I've regained my honor." he gave a step back.

"No," she sighed feeling a growing frustration. This is exactly what she was talking about. It was always about honor and the Avatar and redemption with him.

"I can't be with you until you are a changed man," a light breeze blew by and she let go of his hand. He clenched it empty, being more than aware of the coldness of it. "You need to fight your inner demons and- that's only something you can do. I will only get in the way."

"Goodnight Prince Zuko," she whispered before leaving.

xxx

AN: D-D-Damnnnnnn Finally we are getting some fiyahhhhhh burning up in here! I just wanted to say that I do not support abusive relationships and let's be real Zuko is a total prick in Book 1. Also I wouldn't let Tsai be with him with (not with that attitude at least (and don't even get me started on that haircut (the ponytail? Really?))) all the growth and development he still has to go. This idea seemed a little unrealistic to me. Both still have a long way to go!

Thoughts? I'd love to hear what you think!

xxxx

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CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#prince zuko #zukoxreader #Zuko x oc #Zuko x you #zuko #oc #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanfic #avatar x oc #avatar fanfiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #katara #sokka #toph #aang #iroh

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