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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

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Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy.

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that.

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched.

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths.

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display.

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting.

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds.

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears.

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long.

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected.

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable.

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa mha #aizawa bnha #tw: hybrid #shouta aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa smut

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mrsnegan · 3 years

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A Helping Hand

[Don't mind me, I'm horny for Negan, so I wrote this little fic. Pure smut, so be warned. Enjoy reading.]

Your hand reaches your panties and dips past them. You moan lightly while your fingers practically slide through your wet folds, all the while imagining it was him. It has always been him. His tall, dark and handsome aura fogging your mind, his gazes turning you on. And that smile. That awful sexy and self-assured smile of his drives you mad whenever he is near you. You would love to have the courage to step up to him and ask for what you want. But then again, he is hot-tempered at times and the last thing you want is to make him angry.

So you let your eyes flutter shut and your imagination take over. You're too deep (literally) to notice the knock on the door and someone stepping inside without waiting for your approval.

"Holy shit, doll."

The shriek that leaves your lips feels foreign to you. Your eyes stare wildly at the man himself, Negan, while sitting and trying to cover up as much as possible.

"W-what the hell", you ask flabbergasted, trying to calm yourself, still shocked about the man of your wet dreams standing in the middle of your room.

He seems to be amused about your red face and wild hair, stepping closer still.

"And here I thought you'd be in pain when in reality you just need a helping hand to get you off, am I right?" His dimples make you swoon. You avoid eye contact because you fear the hungry and mocking gaze of his.

"N-Negan," you stammer, still trying to pull the covers over your body. "Why didn't you knock?"

He laughs heartily, taking a step towards you, then another. "Oh babygirl, I did. But you seemed to be busy with fucking yourself on those dainty fingers of yours." He sat down on your bed, skimming his own fingers over your soft covers. "Fancy my fingers in your cunt, hmm? I bet they would perfectly fit down there and make you drool."

You're speechless enough to risk a look into his eyes and instantly drown in the heated gaze you're met with. Your cheeks turn even redder, your puls quickens. You clench around nothing at the promise of his long and thick fingers inside of you and feel yourself nod before you even have the chance to realize what happens here.

Negan grins widely, like you're his prey, and pulls at the covers.

"Well, well doll, your wish is my command. Let's see with what I'm working here."

You let him free your upper body and try to withhold the shame of being exposed like this.

"Fuckity fuck, would you look at those ripe and round titties of yours. Damn." He shifts nearer, his hand reaching out for your breasts, grazing your nipple with his fingers. You moan at this light touch, goosebumps forming over your skin.

"And so fucking responsive. I will have you screaming my name in no time", Negan rasps.

He fully uncovers your body, his eyes shifting to your center, over your legs and up again.

"Spread those fine legs, doll."

You do as he says, exposing your glistening center to his hungry eyes.

"Fucking shit, is this all for me?"

You nod absently when Negan lightly grasps your chin and makes you look at him.

"Don't be shy, baby, I know how much you want me inside of you. I know you're always staring at me like I'm your favorite lollipop and, let me be honest here, I'm getting hard at that thought alone. So don't hide yourself from me and let me make you feel good, get all that tension out of your system."

Negan's low voice makes you shiver and even wetter than you thought possible. Your hunger for him takes over, so you reach forward, clashing your lips against his.

He responds to your kiss immediately, pressing you against himself, his tongue entering your mouth. His hands hold your head securely while he is kissing you like a drowning man, claiming your mouth.

When you both separate for much needed air, he looks at you mischievously. His right hand leaves your hair and wanders up your bare leg towards your center. Your legs are spread still and open a bit wider when he reaches where you need him the most.

His fingers dance over your pussy, teasing you with light touches. "Rough or gentle, what makes you cum like a waterfall?"

You moan at the prospect of getting pleasured by his fingers, unable to answer him.

He slaps your cunt and the shock - more so than the slight pain accompanied by it - makes you jump. "Use your words, babygirl", he says.

"R-rough, I like it rough, Negan, please."

He grins at you, tapping your clit in quick motions, earning a rich moan from your lips.

"Dirty girl, getting off by getting her juicy pussy spanked. Who knew what a little kinky slut you are."

Negan motions for you to lay back, then pushes two fingers into your welcoming heat, his eyes transfixed by your lower lips taking him in greedily.

"Holy shit, you're dripping all over my fingers. Such a perfect little pussy. You ready?"

You can't answer him as fast as he starts pumping his fingers in and out, reaching all the right spots inside of you. You moan his name over and over again, your climax fast approaching, the pace of his glorious fingers relentless.

"Look at you, doll, you love it, yeah?"

You nod, trying to anchor yourself with your fingers helplessly grasping the sheets. You don't know if you've ever felt pleasure like this before, it's building like a hurricane inside of you.

Negan shifts his position, hovering over you so he can kiss your lips.

"I feel your damn walls clenching around me, you're cuming, aren't you?"

"Yes, fuck", you answer him out of breath, out of your mind.

He pulls out of your heat, rubbing your clit furiously with all of his fingers when you practically explode.

Your moan turns into a scream because of the immense pleasure, your vision goes blurry while you soak the sheets beneath you.

"Look at that", Negan hollers, proud of himself, "I just knew you were a squirter. Again."

His fingers are in you instantly, torturing your over-sensitive channel with fast movements, bringing you to the edge once again. He stimulates you so well, you can't think, can't breath, can't feel anything else than pure ecstasy.

Just when you start climaxing again, he withdraws his fingers, looking at your clenching hole squirt.

"Please", you sob uncontrollably, it's all too much, the pleasure leaving you panting and reeling.

But Negan doesn't respond, he bows down and laps up your juices like a starved man.

Your hands wander into his hair, trying to push him away. "Too much...fuck", you whimper. He pushes your hands away from him and looks up at you.

"Oh no, babygirl. I decide when it is too much. And I just know you have another one in you. I want you to cum again for me. One last time", he orders.

You can't argue with him, you're a complete mess, so you just moan when he puts his mouth onto you again, directly aiming for your clit. His fingers return to your heat, pushing themselves into you. You don't know how many of them fit into your quivering hole but you feel so full and completely helpless. It just takes a few moments, his precise thrusts and him sucking your clit roughly to make you lose control. You cum right on his face, screaming his name.

Your ears are ringing, your body a quivering mess. You feel Negan beside you, your senses too distant to really notice what he's doing. It takes you several minutes to catch your breath and feel his arms around your body.

"Oh baby, you're completely destroyed. You came so good for me, such a good girl", he praises while he presses light kisses against your neck.

"Let me hold you for a bit, then I will clean you up properly. Shh", he hushes you, before you relax fully into him. You're too exhausted to answer him, so you cuddle against him, close your eyes and drift off.

#negan x reader #negan #jeffrey dean morgan #negan smut #negan fanfiction #my fanfiction

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transformerfan97 · 3 years

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I have no idea where this came from? But uhhhh...here have this fic I wrote today on my day off. Should I post a second chapter?

Anyway, sorry for any/all mistakes! Hope you all enjoy! Sorry I posted it on my phone so I couldn't add the "read more" thing!

This is the time that I've just made up for them. I know it's not 100% right but whatever. I got it from TFwiki at least:

Nano-klik: Seconds

Klik: Minutes

Groon: Hours

Cycle: Days

Breem: Weeks

Orn: Months

Vorn: 1 year

Joor: 5 years

Deca cycle: 10 years

Mega cycle: 50 years

Solar cycle: 100 years

Stellar cycle: 1,000 years

_________________________

"So when were you two gonna tell me about this?"

Prowl and Smokescreen looked up from their respective tables towards the door of the rec room. In it stood a very rare sight; a pissed off Bluestreak. His arms were crossed, doorwings held high in agitation, and face scowling. Two more very rare things followed this, Prowl bit his lip and looked to his elder brother and Smokescreen sighed then stood up to be the mature one.

The rec room went dead silent to watch the trio. Everyone knew the three were brother's, and fights weren't uncommon. However, when a fight broke out it was usually between Smokescreen and Prowl with Bluestreak coming between them. To see Bluestreak mad at one was rare. If he was, he'd usually ask to speak with said brother privately, and sometimes he'd ask the other to join. To see him this mad, and at both, enough to approach them in a public setting? Something big happened.

"Blue-"

"When was I supposed to find out? Next time we see him? Or when he's dropping off his new sparkling? Or when the bot is dropping off a sparkling to us? Or, or, in a few hundred or thousand solar cycles when we run into a bot that looks just like us?!" Bluestreak growled. "Because you know that's how it'll happen!"

"Bluestreak!" Smokescreen yelled, "he's on his way to visit, and the bot is comin' with him."

Bluestreak's optics went wide at this, "Wh-what-? How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

"Oh of course he did." Prowl growled.

Smokescreen rolled his optics and turned towards his middle brother. "He wanted it ta be a surprise for you two, and me. I didn' know the bot was comin' with until Jazz showed me the flight list."

Bluestreak glared and Prowl rolled his optics. Smokescreen just threw his hands in the air and huffed.

"Doesn't explain why you didn't tell me about the bot."

"Because we knew you'd react exactly like this Bluestreak." Prowl waved a servo towards him, "cause a public scene, bring our family's personal business into the light, and throw a temper tantrum." Prowl scoffed at his little brother.

Bluestreak's optic twitched and he snarled, "you wanna see a temper tantrum Prowl?" He aimed his shoulder canon at his elder brother and growled, "I'll give you a fragging temper tantrum!"

Prowl's optics went wide at this. Red Alert, First Aid and Perceptor quickly jumped up and away from the table.

"Bluestreak don't you-" before Prowl could finish Bluestreak fired a shot at his brother. Smokescreen grabbed the bot and pulled him out of the way before it could hit him. When Prowl looked back at his chair his optic twitched when he saw it sparking from the static shock his brother shot at him. He turned back to scream at said brother, but was punched in the mouth. Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak's shoulders and pulled him back. Bluestreak struggled for a minute before he slammed his helm back against Smokescreen's chin. Smokescreen lost his balance and stumbled. Before he could catch his balance Bluestreak tackled him to the ground.

"You- punch- two- punch- never- punch- tell- punch- me- punch- ANYTHING!" Bluestreak screamed in Praxian as he repeatedly punched Smokescreen's face and chassis.

Prowl tackled his younger brother and held his arms down and pinned his legs with his knees. He glared at the struggling bot below him until Bluestreak finally stopped and laid flat to glare back.

"You realize I could, and should, throw you in the brig and take your SpecOps title away for this? For unprovokingly attacking a commanding officer? And not just any, the-"

"The second in command of the Autobots." Bluestreak mocked. "S'not like anybot actually likes you or wants you to lead if something happens to Optimus Prime! For frags sake, he made you his second because if he didn't you'd whine and probably never have come. Not like you know the first thing about leading anyway." A smirk crossed Bluestreak's face suddenly, "besides you only raised through Praxian ranks, to get where you are now, because you're so good at sucking spike and spreading your legs."

Prowl went stiff at that. There were a lot of rumors as to how he so quickly rose through the ranks. The most popular one being he slept his way to the top. He could, and did, ignore most of them, but that one he hated the most.

"You damn well know that isn't true." Prowl hissed.

"That's why you're so good at being in this position, right?" Bluestreak hissed back.

Prowl looked down and noticed what Bluestreak meant. Granted he was pinning his brother down so he couldn't move, it did look very sexual.

"And with your own brother? That's fragging gross Prowl. Have some self respect." Bluestreak mocked.

Prowl sat back on his knees and stared down at his brother with a blank look. He felt a servo on his shoulder and immediately recognized it as Smokescreen's. When he looked up at his older brother and saw the energon dripping from his nose and cracked optic he twitched. He inhaled to calm himself down and that's when he realized his own energon was dripping from his mouth. Raising a servo he felt it and when he pulled it away he was shocked at how much there was. Shrugging he looked down at Bluestreak and sighed. "Fraggit." Prowl pulled his arm back and punched Bluestreak right in the face three times. When he pulled back to deliver a fourth blow he was tackled to the floor. Looking up he wasn't all that shocked to see Jazz on top of him. What did shock him was when he felt the stasis cuffs put on him and himself being lifted and pushed out the door, followed by Smokescreen with Ironhide and Bluestreak with Red Alert.

OoO

"I...I don't know what to say." Optimus said sadly as he looked at the three bots in front of him. "This kind of thing is expected of Red Alert, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but even they don't shoot and attack one another."

"There are two accounts of Sideswipe putting Red Alert in the medbay, three of Sunstreaker putting Red Alert there, three of Red Alert putting Sideswipe there, four of Red Alert putting Sunstreaker there, and over ten of them all ending up there together because of fights." Prowl said, a slight annoyance to his voice.

Red Alert went stiff at this. Prowl has access to a lot of information, especially as second in command, but even he shouldn't know medical information on bots. Unless it's critical of course.

"Rung and Ratchet have told the three of us if we can't talk it out then to sort out our issues physically. Multiple times. Not that that's your business." Red Alert replied dryly. "How you even know our medical information is beyond me, and a breach of security and Autobot privacy."

"I'm second in command. Nothing is a breach for me." Prowl mumbled, his back to Red Alert.

"I'm the head of security and security director. I know more than any bot what they should know and who should know what, and as second you do not have access to private medical records of other Autobots. Only Ratchet, Rung, First Aid, Swoop, Ambulon and Pharma have access. As well as Optimus Prime, only if he requires specific information for a valid reason. In fact a Conjunx can't access the other bots' medical records unless given permission."

Prowl huffed and kept his back to Red Alert. Optimus watched his second and security director for a moment before sighing and leaning against the front of his desk.

"Prowl, Red Alert is right. You have no right to that information. How did you acquire it?"

"This is really what we're focusing on? Not Bluestreak attacking Smokescreen and I? As well as making accusations against me?"

"What accusations?" Optimus asked, looking at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak sat up straight when Optimus addressed him, but glanced at his brother and glared, "I didn't accuse Prowl of anything."

"There were plenty of Autobots in the rec room Bluestreak. You can't lie your way out of this one." Prowl growled at his brother.

"Prowl, you an' Blue were speakin' Praxian. None of us had any idea what you were sayin'." Ironhide said, crossing his arms.

"We were what?" Prowl asked.

"Speakin'- bot are ya deaf?" Ironhide growled.

"Ironhide please." Optimus raised a servo and Ironhide rolled his optics. "Smokescreen can you please tell us what Bluestreak and Prowl were saying?"

Smokescreen stared at him for a moment then blinked, "ummm...Blue knocked me out. I came round and saw Prowl on top of him on his knees."

"So, no one understood what Prowl or Bluestreak were saying?" Optimus asked the other three.

"I sorta caught a lil ov it, but ah was tryin' ta help Smokescreen." Jazz rubbed the back of his helm.

"Can you tell us what you heard please Jazz?" Optimus asked.

"You speak Praxian?" Smokescreen, Prowl, and Bluestreak all asked.

Jazz smiled at the three, "jus' enough ta get by. Anyway, all ah really caught was Smokescreen and Prowl neva tellin' Bluestreak anythin'. Tha's when Bluestreak was hittin' Smokescreen. Then when Prowl jumped on Bluestreak ah rushed ta Smokescreen ta make sure he was okay, an' he was in stasis. All ah heard from there was Prowl threatenin' Bluestreak with strippin' his title, Bluestreak sayin' somethin' 'bout you an' Prowl and Prowl being second. Somethin' not being true an' tha' was it."

Optimus nodded at his third then looked at the three bots. He had a feeling he could fill in what Bluestreak had said to Prowl. He exvented and shook his helm. The three weren't known for fighting, not like Red Alert and the twins, but even those three kept their more violent fights away from prying optics. What could've possibly happened to set this off? Especially to have provoked Bluestreak, of all bots, to attack his elder brothers? Two bots he looked up to and respected so much.

"What brought this on?"

"Prowl accusing Bluestreak of throwing temper tantrums is what really started it." Red Alert said.

Prowl glared at Red Alert for that.

"No, I mean, Bluestreak, why did you attack your brothers to begin with? What did they do to hurt you so deeply you felt the need to do this instead of communicating with them, or perhaps coming to Ratchet, Rung, Wheeljack or myself?"

"These two didn't tell me something about our family. That I had every right to know!"

Smokescreen sighed and Prowl rolled his optics.

"If you don't mind my asking, and if need be Jazz, Ironhide, and Red Alert can leave and we can call Rung in here, what is it?"

Smokescreen looked at the ceiling, Prowl stared dead ahead and Bluestreak crossed his arms. Optimus looked up at the three bots and went to ask them to leave, but before he could, Bluestreak said something in Praxian. Prowl replied in a hiss and Smokescreen mumbled an annoyed comment back.

When Jazz suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter all the bots turned towards him. The three brothers with annoyed optics and the others with confused.

"Th-thats why you three did tha'?" Jazz tried to control his laughing, but he couldn't.

"Truly a professional Jazz." Prowl rolled his optics and turned back towards Optimus.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, but you'd do it too I bet...well...maybe not you...probably Bumblebee though…" Bluestreak mumbled.

"In hindsight, it's pretty fragging funny. I'm with Jazz." Smokescreen said, sitting back.

"So...what is it?" Optimus asked, immensely confused now.

"Our Sire has a new mate." The three said in unison.

#transformers #maccadam #prowl #bluestreak #smokescreen #jazz transformers #ironhide #optimus prime #red alert #i just mix up series so its not like set in g1 or idw or anything like that buuuut if i had to pick it's more g1 probably...with added stuff #stuff being characters and concepts and yeah #my fic

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ka-writes · 3 years

Text

——————

Notes: I felt evil..

Also cross country sucks, now I feel sick.

But I gift longish chapter!

——————

Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 4:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

——————

Warning: trauma flash backs, cussing, mentions of character death, fear.

——————

Chapter 5: Rocky Road

——————

Techno certainly didn’t expect Tubbo’s sudden outburst. Still Techno sort of expected bitterness towards the human.

The droneling marched off presumably to go to the garden. He shoved Wilbur out of the way and continued speaking gibberish.

“What’s with Tubbo?” The phantom asked, casting worried glances towards the door.

“He just threatened the human.” Techno said as if it wasn’t the most stupid move on Tubbo’s part. Wilbur’s eyes grew wide and he attempted to run to the holding cell, only to be stopped by Techno’s hand on his shoulder. The phantom sighed before turning towards the guard.

Silently the pair made their way to the common room. Flicking on the illusion projector, and turning the channel with the ISF news. Techno opened a novel not paying any mind to the news reporter who was going over the case that Techno had just escaped.

There weren't any further advances on the story other than what they knew. The ship had crashed on Omar, a nature preserve, which led the ISF to find eight human bodies and twelve recognized crew members. Though there were fourteen to begin with, not that the news knew that of course. The ship was also deemed as a poacher ship and not much else was discovered.

After the story was covered a different news reporter came on screen. He was shifting his papers nervously and glanced down every so often. This caused Techno to close his novel and pay attention to the illusion.

“Just one day ago, one of the Dream Team crew members quit.” The news reporter took a shaky breath before continuing, “Today the crew has reported that the ex-crew member had taken one of the humans they were using for testing.” A picture of Tommy appeared on screen, “This is what the human looks like. We advise citizens to be on the lookout for this man,” a picture of Wilbur popped onto the screen, “and the human. If you see either one in public do not engage and immediately report it to one of your stationed guards.” The man finished and Wilbur immediately flicked off the TV.

Him and Techno shared a glance of pure shock. Wilbur shed a couple blue tears and immediately started panicking. The guard wrapped his brother until a tight hug and fought off the voices chants of “NOT SAFE”. Silence drew the pair into an unsteady atmosphere.

——————

“Honestly that kid is a burden. I don’t know why you think we can take care of him.” A lady said, fury wasn’t hidden behind a fake smile at this point. The man standing next to her nodded silently.

“Ma’am, I don't understand what you’re saying.” Another lady responded, patience running thin.

Tommy held back the tears that were threatening to fall. His lip was already bleeding and his fingers felt raw. His bruises were itching uncomfortably under his tight shirt. He was starting to overheat, yet kept his jacket wrapped around him protectively.

“What I am saying is, we don’t want him, and I doubt anyone else will.” The lady started, “That kid is a nuisance. He makes our children look problematic, when in reality he is the problem child. I don’t understand how his parents put up with him for so long.” The lady finished.

“Only my mother put up with me,” Tommy thought, “my father couldn’t spare me a glance without yelling at me..”

He sat in the waiting room for what felt like hours before making the decision. The one that caused him to live on the streets.

He took his bag and sprinted out of the facility. He just kept running, nowhere to go and no money to use.

….

Suddenly it was a different night. He was sitting on a park bench looking at the stars. He was somewhere in Colorado, not sure how he made it here, but here he was. He breathed in the fresher air and pushed himself up.

He turned left then right then another left. At this point he was on one of those nature paths that seemed to be everywhere.

He sat in a field. Wasn’t it night?

A light and a huge gust of wind was the only response he got.

Then footsteps. A distant scream. Then cold sharp pain accompanied by a void of darkness.

He woke up in a cage..

He shot up in bed.. His head throbbed, but there was no point in sleeping it off.

So he got up. He hobbled over to the bookshelf and looked at the weird games and toys. His eyes fell on what he presumed to be a stack of cards and a pen of sorts.

It took an hour to label all the cards, but when he finally did he played a game of solitaire. Then another and another. By the time he finished the sixth one he was bored.

He went back to inspecting the bookshelf. The middle shelf had jigsaw puzzles.. didn’t Clem like puzzles?

He picked out what he presumed to be a flower field. There were a bunch of blue sunflowers.. wasn’t that her favorite flower?

Tommy sat on the floor creating a puzzle his sister would’ve absolutely adored. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks every once and a while. Only to be hastily wiped away.

——————

His eyes felt like they were glued shut. They attempted to sit up only to find creaks in their back and neck.

After a minute he sat up. His mind was still foggy from sleep, but he made his way to the security office, ready to work through his sleep deprived state.

Before they even left the room Phil told them to go back to rest. Ranboo obliged, and closed his door.

Having no work left he decided to write down as much information as he could about both Earth and Tommy.

Surprisingly they were able to recall a lot of information from the night before. That usually didn’t happen..

Once they wrote an entire dictionary on both topics, they tried the door again.

Phil, once again stepped in front of them, “Mate, I really think you should rest.”

“I know, but I am hungry. Can I at least have lunch?” Ranboo felt like a child once again, but knew it always worked with the captain.

After Phil rolled his eyes, Ranboo practically skipped to the kitchen. He grabbed some of the leftovers from last night and popped it into the insta-heater. Making two plates of food.

After the food was ready he looked down either hallway. Phil was preoccupied with Wilbur in the common room. Deciding it was the best time to sneak to his friend, he made his way to the holding cell. Only to be stopped by none other than Techno himself.

“Oh! H-hi Techno..” Ranboo said awkwardly.

“What are you doing?”

“I-I was just getting Tubbo some lunch!” Ranboo cringed at their own lie. Only to be met with a raised eyebrow.

“Ok I was gonna visit Tommy.” Ranboo caved. That was the right answer as Techno nodded and let Ranboo pass.

“You’re only giving him lunch right?” Techno inquired.

“Er- that and talk a bit.. I mean that was my original plan.”

“Then I will stay with you.” Techno left no room for debate.

Ranboo nodded and approached the cell, setting the plate on the automatic tray. Techno stood in a small hallway allowing his presence only to be known to Ranboo.

Tommy was sitting on the floor putting together a landscape puzzle.

With what they saw, their curiosity intrigued them.

“Can I go in?” He asked first to Techno who shifted off of the wall.

“Only if I am in there.” Ranboo nodded and turned to Tommy who was busy with the puzzle.

Ranboo knocked on the window once. Tommy’s head shot up before the human stood up and approached the window.

“Hello!” Ranboo chirped, “I can see you’re working on a puzzle! I would love to help if you want? Me and my friend won’t go in if you don’t want me in there. But just so you know I brought lunch!”

Tommy stared at the enderian before answering. He was clearly debating the options.

“Only if Techno doesn’t talk.” Was the only response either got.

With that they grabbed the food and let the door open. Techno entered first, immediately going to the back chair and pulling out a novel. Ranboo handed Tommy a plate and sat next to the strange human.

It didn’t take them long for them to start rambling. Both about everything and nothing.

Surprisingly Ranboo lost all fear that should’ve been gripping them, and felt comfortable sitting with one of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy.

——————

“So people are looking for you?” The captain asked, impatiently tapping his foot against the metal floor.

“To put it simply, yea..” Wilbur said pretty much losing all confidence within the span of an hour.

The caption responded with a sympathetic look and wrapped his son in another tight hug. Wilbur didn’t pull away this time. He melted into comfort.

After a minute the elder pulled away, “How about you watch one of those documentaries you like. I will make some iced fluff and join you in a bit.” The phantom nodded and trugged himself over to the common room sofa. Turning on the illusion and flicking to one of the only things the ISF was allowing people to view from Earth, Netflix.

He skimmed the documentary section and came upon one that was about the Ocean. Three minutes later he was completely into it.

Phil returned with two bowls of iced fluff. Wilbur dug into the sweet treat. Phil sat next Will and wrapped a wing around him, to which Will leaned into the embrace.

——————

“So what’s your favorite treat?” Ranboo asked, after he got another piece Tommy wasn’t able to get.

Tommy scoffed, mumbling about how he was just about to try that spot before answering the question, “I love Rocky Road Ice Cream. My mom made it without nuts so it is far superior to anything anyone would get from a store.” Tommy was satisfied with his answer and tried another piece.

“Hmm.. What is ice cream?”

“It’s a sweet frozen cream of sorts.”

“Oh so like iced fluff?”

“No idea, I would have to try it first..”

Both continued the conversation mumbling about other different foods and what not, before falling into a comfortable silence.

Tubbo was absolutely furious at the scene. He sprinted off to the garden where he slammed the door and melted to the floor.

When was the last time anyone had a conversation that was about everything and nothing with him?

He hated the fact he was jealous over a fucking human.

Tomorrow was the day he would prove the human wasn’t all he seemed to be. That the human was nothing more than a monster.

——————

Chapter 5-End

Words: 1826

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Notes: I still have a few filler chapters, but am getting there!!

Go take care of yourself, love ya!! <3

Reminder likes are appreciated but reblogs are even better! (Suggestion make a side blog where you just spam creators works... just saying, I have one..)

Also my layout for chapters has changed a bit. I have the last chapter at the top and the next one at the bottom.. and no I am not doing the inspired by on Ao3, simply cause it’s easier for people to see it in the first few, I am keeping it here tho, cause I know people aren’t really gonna see my first chapter right away. I will be keeping the link to the first chapter at the top as well just not the middle ones.

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Tubbo has evolved in to

J E L L Y B E E

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Chapter 6:

#tubbo #dream smp fanfiction #sbi au #my writing #my fanfic tag #wilbur soot #tommy mcyt #ranboo #philza #reblog #space au #angst #little bit of fluff #humans are space orcs

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 3 years

Text

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - An Older Dramione Story, Part Two

Since folks seemed to like the first part (thank you so much for letting me know, by the way! It’s genuinely quite scary flinging stories into the dusky blue void of Tumblr, especially if you’re relatively new to contributing to a fandom...!!), here’s Part Two.

Premise:

Draco, eight months after becoming a widower, nearly loses his son too in a vicious attack at Malfoy Manor. In the aftermath, while he’s being questioned by the aurors, there’s no one to look after little Scorpius, who just won’t stop howling. In desperation, and remembering how good Hermione had been with his kids, Harry brings the baby up to her office. In the end, the only thing that will calm the child is the soft hum of Hermione’s voice as she sings to him. Of course, that would be how Draco Malfoy finds her, wouldn’t t it? And then, eleven years later, Hermione meets him again and ends up asking him to lunch at the Leaky…

(Warnings in Part One (and in any future chapters) for past Ron/Hermione, and implied infertility. No explicit Ron-bashing, but it’s implied that their relationship couldn’t take the strain and he looked elsewhere. I may develop it later, but it won’t be a Ron-bashing fic. They’re just ultimately incompatible in this universe).

Read Part One here

Part Two - Lunch for Two at the Leaky

___

Hermione, being Hermione, arrived at the Leaky Cauldron just over half an hour before she was due to meet Malfoy there. After getting a large glass of dry white wine from the bar and settling into a table with a view of the doorway, she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then delved into her infinite handbag of holding to draw out a book.

Twenty nine minutes later, a soft snort made her jump, and she looked up, blinking, to find Draco Malfoy towering over her table, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Some things never change, do they Granger?” he said. He was still in that beautiful navy blue suit that fitted him so damned perfectly he could have strolled straight out of the glossy adverts in Witch Weekly, and it made her mouth go unexpectedly dry, and her brain rather blank too.

Her cheeks flushed and she opened her mouth, but promptly realised she had nothing to say in rebuttal, so closed it again with a click of her teeth and shrugged. “I guess not.”

“You want another one?” he asked.

“Another book?” she blurted, frowning.

To her surprise, Malfoy barked a short laugh, silver eyes glinting. “No, Granger,” he said with an odd intonation. “Drink.”

She glanced down at her nearly-empty glass, and pursed her lips. Raising one eyebrow, she turned her face to look at him slightly askance and smirked. “Just what kind of degenerate do you take me for?” she parroted back at him.

“Of course. The ex-Minister for Magic can’t be seen drinking herself into a stupor at midday with a former Death Eater now, can she?” he sneered, the humour vanishing. “I’ll be right back.”

Blowing the rising tension from her lungs, she hoped this wasn’t going to be a huge mistake and closed her eyes a moment, then returned her book to her bottomless handbag. With nothing to do until Malfoy returned — if he even returned, of course; he could have just bolted for the back door and disapparated — she cursed and fussed with her cuticles until the crisp click of dragonhide leather Oxfords rose above the low lunchtime murmur in the pub.

“That was ungracious of me,” he said as he sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” she said quickly. “I’m a touch nervous too.”

Malfoy went still at that, but instead of unleashing another snippy comment at her expense, he just twitched his lips and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “To the most unusual of days,” he said, raising his own glass of white.

She clinked the remnants of hers against his, and added, “And to new beginnings, I think.” She looked at her watch and smiled. “They’ll be just south of Birmingham by now, I suspect.”

“Who will?” he asked after sipping his wine. She half expected him to make some kind of remark about its inferior vintage, but he seemed happy enough with it.

“The Express,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten dear Scorpius already?” she teased.

He shook his head. “No. But you’re as hard to keep up with as you ever were, Granger.”

“I don’t recall you ranking too many places behind me, Malfoy. And you beat me in Potions every year bar one, though I rather suspect Snape had a hand in keeping my marks down there…”

He shrugged noncommittally.

“Which house do you think Scorpius will find his way into?” she asked. “Slytherin like his father?”

“Probably,” Malfoy said ruefully. “He can be a cunning little shit when he wants to be.”

She had to smile at that. “Tell me about him?”

Malfoy sighed and took another sip of wine. “He’s smart,” he began, somewhat hesitantly, as if he thought he might bore Hermione if he said too much about his son.

“No surprises there,” she scoffed playfully. “Is he a future seeker too, or do the similarities end with the brains?”

A very slight flush blossomed on Malfoy’s ice-white cheeks. “I didn’t know you even remembered I played quidditch, Granger.”

Her eyebrows rose and she tried not to snort wine out of her nostrils. Malfoy had looked devastating in his quidditch kit as he’d grown into it, not that she’d ever admitted that to anyone. He’d been a right arse too back at school, no matter how beautiful his own had looked in his flying gear, so her admiration then had been purely aesthetic. “Yes, Malfoy,” she sighed. “I do remember that. I also remember the Slytherin team being quite the thorn in our side for most of our time there…”

He hitched a lopsided smirk and took a sip of wine.

The way he held the glass in long, steady fingers made her core heat slightly and she had to look away. The reaction took her off-guard. It had been years since she’d felt even the slightest flicker of sexual attraction for anyone.

“Are you admitting that we were actually good, Granger?”

Hermione rolled her brown eyes and shook her head, causing a cascade of curls to tumble into her face like an avalanche set off by the merest touch. Shoving it all back out of her eyes, she said, “Much as I’d like to say it was only daddy’s money and a set of fancy brooms that gave you an edge, it wasn’t. Flint was still a dirty rotten cheater, but half of you were pretty darned good. And it doesn’t even take a quidditch player to see that. So how old was Scorpius when you had him on a broom of his own?”

A cloudy look passed over his eyes and he blinked slowly. “Four.”

“Four!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I didn’t plonk him on a broom, slap the bristles, and send it racing off into the middle of Wiltshire with my son and heir alone. He rode in my lap with me until he was seven or so, and even then, I enchanted his broom not to go above five feet. He was furious about that,” he chuckled. “Naturally, he tried everything he could think of to undo the enchantment, but in the end he resorted to getting one of the house elves to undo it. She was devastated when she realised quite what she’d done and came to me immediately.”

Hermione’s lip curled involuntarily at the mention of house elves. “So long as you didn’t make her iron her own hands in punishment,” she said before she could stop herself.

Malfoy blinked, blanching and obviously taken aback. “No, Granger,” he breathed, and after a long pause he added, “I am not my father.”

The words rang in the air between them and something unpleasantly akin to shame coiled in her belly, soured by the wine on an empty stomach. “Now it’s my turn to apologise for being ungracious,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not your father. I’ve known that for a very long time.”

Before Malfoy could open his mouth to reply, Old Tom shuffled over and stuck some menus under their noses. “You said you was stayin’ for lunch, ma’am, but neither of you’s collected a menu,” he said before disappearing.

“Ma’am,” she repeated in a stage whisper to Malfoy. “I never got used to that at the Ministry. Makes me sound like some old frump.” A tiny, bitter snort escaped her and she added, “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Granger, please,” Malfoy drawled. “You are anything but an ‘old frump’.”

Drawn up short by the unexpectedly open compliment, she looked at him, lips softly parted.

“What?” he asked, looking like he thought she might hex his balls off if he moved so much as a muscle. “Surely Weasley must have told you the same thing once or twice? I know the man is about as artless as a grindylow, but…”

The sudden mention of Ron’s name nearly gave her emotional whiplash, and she huffed a tiny laugh. “We’re not together anymore. Surely you heard?”

“I hadn’t,” he said, voice flat. “I’m sorry.”

“You must be the only person in the entirety of Wizarding Britain who missed that then,” she groused, opening the menu and taking in the options without really seeing them. “Rita Skeeter’s nasty little protégée wrote an entire Prophet article on our breakup.”

“I haven’t exactly kept up to date with current affairs,” he said awkwardly, lowering his gaze to the menu.

“Current? This was eleven years ago, Malfoy.” She fixed him with a wary stare and whispered, “Don’t tell me Ginny was right? You really are a recluse?”

“This would be my first public outing in a very long time, yes,” he said carefully without looking up. “But I do venture forth from my little fortress every so often. I was at Theo’s anniversary do a few months ago.”

“I missed that,” she said. “I was supposed to be there, but Harry had a crisis with his brood. You’d never believe it - there was a cursed photo-frame stuffed behind a piece of panelling in the drawing room at Grimmauld, and Lily managed not only to find it but to activate it. She was stuck inside it for hours and Harry was beside himself, but we got her out and she was alright in the end.”

“Grimmauld,” Malfoy murmured, and his silver eyes rose to meet hers. “My aunt’s family home?”

She nodded and then the knut dropped. “I forgot you’re a Black too by blood.”

His mouth twitched and he nodded. “I haven’t been there since I was a very small child. I’m assuming they redecorated…”

“Thoroughly.”

“Not thoroughly enough,” he quipped. “That awful tapestry still knocking around?”

“God no,” she scoffed. “That was one of the first things to go. Along with the collection of shrunken house elf heads and the troll skull that screamed at you if you got too close to it. There was even a boggart in the basement, if you can believe the cliché. Anyway,” she said, keen to change topics, “You were proving to me that you aren’t a complete hermit. Was Theo’s party really the last thing you went out for?”

He seemed a little bashful as he nodded. “I… I don’t exactly find myself welcome everywhere, even now, Granger,” he said dryly. He’d nearly finished his wine, and when Tom hobbled over to take their food order, he asked for a second glass, in which Hermione joined him.

“Guess we are degenerates after all,” she said as she met his eyes over the empty table.

“The people behind you certainly seem to think very little of your choice of prandial company, Granger,” he said flatly, interlacing his long fingers and arching a pale eyebrow.

Where at Hogwarts he’d had pale, pristine hands, now she saw innumerable scars and nicks across his knuckles, and they were undoubtedly the strong, steady hands of a grown man, with none of the softness of youth. Heat bloomed across her neck and face, and to distract herself she looked over her shoulder to glower at the people shooting them scandalised looks across the dark pub.

“Screw them,” she muttered. “They have no idea about anything anyway.”

If Malfoy was puzzled by her outburst, he didn’t show it.

They shared their meal and spoke easily enough about Hermione’s astonishing and unprecedented rise through the ministry, and how she’d cracked one day — the details of which she chose not to divulge — and had quit and decided to open a bookshop instead. “It’s been so much more fulfilling,” she finished, slightly breathless.

“A bookshop?” he smiled, eyes glittering.

“I know, I know,” she growled, gesticulating with her dessert spoon in between delicious mouthfuls of Florian’s ice cream which the Leaky now sold. “Could I be any more cliché?”

With a graceful shrug of one shoulder, Malfoy just said, “I think it suits you. And if it makes you happy, why not?”

“What makes you happy then?” she asked before her brain had caught up with the question. “I mean…” she flushed hot again. “I just wondered what you do up at the Manor all day.”

“Well,” he said evenly around a slice of apple tart, “Until this morning, I largely oversaw Scorpius general education, but I have been involved in a number of other projects here and there too.”

“Projects?”

“Mmm,” he said, but clearly wasn’t in the mood to elaborate and she didn’t press.

“Well, Theo’s having drinks at his place on Friday… you should come.”

“Which place?”

“He has more than one place? I thought he closed Nott Manor up for good?”

Malfoy smirked. “He has a number of places, Granger.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “Well, his usual one here in London, I suppose… He didn’t tell me anything different…” She set her spoon down and sat back. “Merlin, I’m full,” she laughed. “So, will you come?”

“Do you always invite strays to other people’s parties?”

“Do you always deflect social invitations in the hopes that they’ll go away if you ignore them long enough?” she countered with an even stare.

Malfoy’s spine stiffened a touch at that, but the look which settled onto his face could only be chalked up to respect, and he allowed himself another flinty smile. “Touché,” he said. “Yes, it usually works well enough.”

“Not this time.”

“Evidently,” he said with crisp enunciation. “Fine. I will consider attending.”

She snickered almost childishly at that. “You make it sound like it’s some fancy black tie do that you might condescend to attend if the mood strikes…”

“I don’t know what a ‘black tie do’ is, but I am considering condescending to attend all the same.”

“Fair enough. And a black tie event is a Muggle thing. It’s like dress robes for Muggles.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you.”

And with that, their conversation stalled for the first time all afternoon. Hermione looked down at her watch and gasped. “God, Malfoy, it’s been three and a half hours!”

“I’m surprised you lasted five minutes if I’m honest,” he said quietly.

She frowned and delved into her handbag again, looking for her coin purse. “You fancy taking a walk to shake all this food down?” she asked, but Malfoy was already shaking his head.

“Unfortunately, I really should get going. Please, Granger, let me pay for this. It’s been an unexpected pleasure on a day that would otherwise have been very grey indeed.”

His sincerity struck her like a physical blow, and she could hardly respond as Tom came over as if summoned by the clink of money, and Malfoy smoothly left a handful of coins on the tray and told Tom to keep the change.

“Very well, M’lord,” Tom said, bowing slightly as he left.

“‘M’lord’?” Hermione asked and Malfoy immediately rolled his eyes.

“I really wish people wouldn’t call me that. Mercifully it doesn’t happen all that often. I usually find myself on the receiving end of far less gracious epithets.”

“You are a lord though? Your father wasn’t a lord, was he?”

“No. It’s Lord Black, technically. My father had no claim to the title, being a Malfoy, but with my mother’s blood, I inherited the title. Needless to say, I don’t bandy it around if I can help it.”

“I see,” she said, rising from her seat. “Well, thank you for lunch. You really didn’t have to pay though.”

“I know,” he said shyly as he stood with the grace of a lifelong seeker. “Still, it was a pleasure.”

She smoothed her clothes out, trying to avoid feeling like that frumpy old matron beside the lean, tall figure of Draco Malfoy, and pursed her lips. “See you Friday then?”

Before he’d obviously thought about it, Malfoy nodded. “Friday,” he said, and then realised he’d committed himself and laughed softly with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Friday,” he said again.

Hermione held out her hand to him and he surprised her yet again by taking it delicately in his fingers and raising her knuckles to his lips. The faintest brush of a kiss against her skin set her tingling all over and she nearly gasped, flushing a dark crimson.

“Good day, Granger,” he said, and stalked from the pub.

Outside on Diagon Alley’s cobbled streets, he disapparated without looking back.

___

If you liked where it’s going and want to see more, do let me know! Either by reblogging this or sending me an ask.

Part Three

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #older dramione #older Draco Malfoy #older hermione granger #older draco malfoy x hermione granger #older hermione granger x older draco malfoy #scorpius malfoy #draco malfoy and scorpius #draco and scorpius

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r0zyp0zy0zy · 3 years

Text

✿D.K.- trying, and succeeding?✶☼⚠︎

Master list

Words: 1760

Warnings/kinks: fluffy smut, POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING {mentions of puking, mentions of being disgusted about yourself etc. Nothing super intense}

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x FEM!reader

Summary: Denki finally figures out you have an eating disorder

(I wasn't sure to write this as if y/n was underweight or not, so I opted for a neutral, average, build)

Just to preface, I do not have an eating disorder, so some details might be skewed. Please, please, please make sure you're in the right mindset to read this fic, I would hate it if someone got triggered by this :(

**posted on mobile, sorry for the format**

=== NSFW AND POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING UNDER CUT ===

It had only taken Denki what, four months, to become suspicious of your eating/puking habit. He wasn't the smartest fella, nor a very self-conscious one either, but after he found your 'calories diary', a book where you wrote down what not to eat, his brain finally slotted the pieces together. His immediate thought was 'why? You’re so beautiful?' and 'why would you do that to your body?'. But after some research, he had a loose understanding of what you had. He was now hyper aware of when you were refusing to eat, and how you were doing it.

"Oh, I ate an hour ago, I'm fine."

"I just have a stomach ache is all."

"I'm feeling sick. I have to go use the bathroom."

Denki was determined to 'make your sickness go away', but he really struggled trying to help you. He tried locking the bathrooms to prevent you from going in, (he failed to realize that you could puke outside, or in a bowl), he tried making you something himself (thinking that you couldn't refuse to eat something that he made. Turns out he was the one that puked that day). He even set alarms on your phone for every few hours telling you 'don't forget to have a snack :)'. Truly, he really was trying to help. Keyword; trying. He was probably better off just calling a doctor or something for you, (which you would've hated).

Denki finally decided to confront you, pulling out your diary as proof. You yelled at him about your privacy, but you softened your stance when he told you that he was concerned about your health, which was a lot coming from Denki.

"I just want you to be happy in your own skin," Denki pouted, a hand on your knee as he sat with you. His eyes glittered with concern, trying his best to not just shake you and yell 'BEGONETH, POISONOUS THINKING! THOU DOTH BAD!'

"I want to be, too," your lip quivered, holding back tears.

"Can I hug you?" Denki pleaded, pouting his lip. You gave him a stout nod, and he wrapped his arms around you. You turned and sat on Denki's lap, hugging him back.

"I can't describe to you how beautiful you are, y/n," Denki murmured. "I'll admit that I'm not the greatest at comforting, but I'll try my best for you."

The two of you sat there for awhile, tangled in an embrace, tears wetting his shoulder. He soothed his hand over your shaking back, trying to calm you. He didn't know what to do, currently. You had never sat on his lap and cried.

"Thank you for trying, Denki," you sniffled, curling your fingers through his hair. "I just feel so disgusted whenever I see myself in the mirror, or in pictures. I hate how I look, and I constantly feel like you're only dating me because you're desperate."

"Fist of all, you aren't disgusting, I love how you look," Denki began, "Second of all, hey, I wasn't that desperate. I actually had a crush on you all throughout middle school, and I was scared shittless asking you out. You're so beautiful."

"Thank you, Buzzy," you sobbed, hugging him harder. "It's just so hard to believe when I have this body."

"Y'know you're not just a body, right?" Denki pulled back, looking you in the eye. "I would never date someone just for their body, despite what everyone thinks. But I have to admit-- Damn, you are one smokin' woman, baby."

A shy smile fitted your face, and you wiped away your tears, "I just want to be happy with myself and how I look."

You sat and cuddled for a bit longer on the bed, Denki whispering praise into your ear. He felt so content with you in his arms, feeling comforted from him.

"...Denki," you said firmly, turning to face him. "Way to ruin the mood."

He looked down to where you were staring, and blushed deeply. Oops, "I'm sorry! I couldn't help it!"

"It's alright, Denki," You giggled, "I get it, I'm just so smokin'"

You attempted to flip your hair while laying down, and winked at the golden haired boy next to you.

"You are," Denki protested, trying to hide his face in a pillow.

"I'll try," you sighed, turning to stroke Denki's hair. "I'll try and be healthy to my body. But god, is it hard."

"D'y'know what else is hard?" Denki said smugly, grinning dumbly.

"Denki! I swear, we can never cuddle without you getting horny," you giggled.

"I'm sorry," Denki replied, hiding his shame in a pillow. "Just making you feel better makes me feel good."

"Oh? Then feel free to make me feel much, much better," you purred, rolling on top of him.

"F-fuck," he whispered, hands catching your waist, "this- this was supposed to be a wholesome m-moment."

"Says you," you snorted, rolling your hips to grind on his erection.

"I-I know but," Denki bit his lip, "I- uhg. I dunno."

"C'mon, Denki-Chan~ please~~?" You hummed, batting your eyelashes at him.

His eyes wandered down to where you were seated, and he felt his dick twitch, "ok. But, I wanna make this about you. So, uh, make sure you tell me if I'm being too selfish, kay?"

You nodded, smiling brightly before leaning in to place a fat kiss on Denki's lips. He whimpered under your touch, fisting your shirt tighter. He excitedly bobbed his tongue against your lower lip, initiating his favourite way to kiss you. Denki gently turned the two of you over, laying you on your back.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Beautiful," Denki mumbled, hurrying to remove your shirt. "Oh fuck, you're hot."

You were blushing underneath him and trying not to protest his praise, loosely holding onto his thighs. Denki continued to remove your bra, only taking a few tries, and threw it somewhere on the floor. His Cheshire grin made you wriggle in embarrassment, and you managed to grind up into his crotch.

"Babe, your tits are amazing," Denki drooled, leaning down and trying to grab as much flesh as possible. He attached his mouth around one nipple, sucking and nibbling slightly before moving on to the next one.

"D-denki," you gasped, knitting your fingers through his hair. "Just fuck me, please."

His whole scheme to have a nice, soft, all-about-you night, went out the window when he heard you say that. How could he say no to you? He leaned up again and gave you a sloppy kiss, "ok, baby. Remember, tell me if I'm being too selfish."

You nodded excitedly, readjusting your position. Denki pulled down your pants with ease, groaning at the sight of you in just your panties. You were amazing, and he couldn't believe that he was on top of you, about to make you feel good. He peeled off your panties and threw them beside him. He licked his hand and reached down to your pussy, giving your clit a quick rub before he put a condom on.

Denki sighed with delight as he rubbed his cock between your folds, lubing himself up with your juices, "can't wait to fuck you, y/n."

"Just do it, Denki~" you chided, rolling your hips impatiently.

"Fffuck, you're so hot," Denki hissed as he inched himself into you. "M' so lucky."

You bit your lip through a moan, and guided your hands to your boyfriend's shoulders. You could feel your face heating up, a red hue igniting your cheeks. You were too focused on Denki dipping into you to realize that, oh god, the lights were fully on.

"—wait. The lights..." you mumbled, tempted to push Denki off of you so you could flick them off.

"Nuh-uh, babe," Denki tisked, leaning closer to you. "I hardly ever see you like this with so much lighting. Makes me so much more turned-on for you."

You let out a small moan at his embarrassing words, Denki quickening his pace. You could only groan and tighten your grip on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Denki's breath was ragged from the way you clenched against him whenever he went deep enough, trying to trap him inside of you.

"D-denki~~ feels so good," your eyebrows furrowed, bucking with his rhythm.

"Y-you deserve—," Denki struggled, sweat dripping from his forehead, "you deserve to f-feel good, baby. You deserve to feel amazing."

Through your stupor you could tell that he was on the edge of his orgasm, his jaw clenching, and his words coming out jumbled. Denki started rutting into you harder, with more intensity, and tried to swallow his groans.

"Thought you weren't gonna be greedy and cum before me, hm?" You ribbed as he fucked into you wildly.

"It's—," Denki huffed, "—hard when I haven't had sex with you for awhile."

Your pleasure came back to you as Denki struggled to rub your clit, lurching his hips faster. You brought your hand down to do it yourself, saving Denki from a very sore left arm. The mix of the penetration and touches to your clit made you moan out pleas, encouraging Denki to fuck you harder.

"Oh god, oh fuck. Oh fuck your so attractive. Shiiit, you're so sexy, babe," Denki blabbered as he grabbed one of your tits. "Shitshitshitshitshit I'm close—."

"I-I'm gonna cum," you whimpered, failing to give yourself slow, sensual rubs. It was almost vicious how you were touching yourself, desperate for release.

"God, cum for me, y/n," Denki choked as he drooled.

"Yes, yes... yes!" You chanted, throwing your head back and yelling out Denki's name.

"Oh my god—," Denki groaned, eyes rolling back as he filled the condom with his semen. "You are... the bestest thing."

"Thank you, Denki," you smiled, sitting up weakly as he dropped the used condom in the trash. "Thank you."

"Of course!" He yelled, skipping back to you and giving you a hug.

"Denki Kaminari, don't you ever skip towards me naked ever again," you scolded, shoving a finger to his chest.

"What?!" He grinned. "What's wrong with a little flippy-floppy?"

"Kaminari!!"

#anime #bnha #mha #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki #denki kaminari smut

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sleeperswakewriting · 3 years

Note

Have you ever read the rivetra fic "in all of the lives we are" on fanfiction net? Because I did and parts of it are canon in my head. What I really want to ask is :can you too please bless us with a canonverse reincarnation fic?

I haven't read it but I bookmarked it to read later! Thank you for the rec, anon! I have a canonverse reincarnation fic that I scrapped when I first got back into writing. I plan on writing one in the future with a lot more depth, but I'll share this draft since I don't plan on going back to this fic in particular. Warning, meh writing ahead 😅

“And then my soul saw you and it kind of went, "Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you.”

— Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

Childhood; where threads begin, or were they there all along?

The world is a cruel place, is the mantra Levi murmured to himself over and over again.

Kenny left him when he was 10 and after giving the police the run around, he found himself in a group home for children with disturbed conduct, also known as, the leftovers in the system. The leftovers that even foster care didn’t want to look twice at because everyone in this shitty place was just as fucked up as the last kid.

Mom, why did you have to die and leave me with Uncle Kenny? Did you know he was a gang leader? Or maybe you knew being part of a gang was better than this hellhole.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew his mother was a whore, and if the feds ever found out he was living in a brothel they would’ve taken him in an instant. So maybe it was luck that he had the amount of time with her that he did.

He still remembered how she desperately tried to shield him from her work, locking him in the closet when he was small, and when he got bigger, hiding underneath the bed and saying very sternly Levi, my love, you can’t make a sound or else mommy is going to get in trouble. Remember to cover your ears, just like we practiced.

And then when she died, it didn’t come suddenly. It was coughing in the middle of the night, him begging her to please let him find a doctor and he didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted them to be together, but his mother shook her head and insisted she would be fine.

She wasn’t, of course, and Kenny both saved and damned him. He learned how to fend for himself, beat men twice his size, and take their wallet while they were recovering from his blows. He learned how to use a knife threaten people, and while his size threw people off, he used that to his advantage.

Even though he didn’t have his knives here, he knew how to fight hand to hand, and he was itching to land a blow to the next kid who tried to steal his dinner. It was his third month into the group home, and he was on his “last warning” as the head said, and next stop was juvie. He didn’t care, his life was at the end of the line and he was only 11.

“Hey, dip shit. Gimme your cookie.” Levi glanced at the boy who suddenly appeared, some new comer who clearly didn’t know his reputation. The boy was older and bigger than him, he guessed around 13 or 14, but he didn’t care. He ignored him and took a stab at the stale meatloaf.

“Did you fucking hear me? I said give me the goddamn cookie.” Levi sighed at the idiocy of this place, he knew what it was like to starve and despite the shit he gave this place, he couldn’t complain about the three (shitty) meals they got a day and the roof over his head. The company was much to be desired and that’s what usually got him into trouble.

“Tch. Go bother someone else, I’m not interested,” he said cooly, and the boy’s face grew red. Levi balled his left fist under the table, ready to throw a punch the minute he got too close to him.

“You little fucker—“ The boy began, but before Levi could take a swing at him, his shirt collar was pulled back by a smirking brown haired boy.

“Hey, hey, Matty, you don’t want to pick on him. Didn’t you hear that he landed Sam in the hospital last month?” Immediately the boy called Matty paled and backed off instantly.

“This little guy did that? Respect, Sam was a piece of shit anyway,” he muttered the last sentence and waved Levi away.

Levi shrugged and returned to his dinner, not paying the newcomer any mind but the boy took it upon himself to sit across from him, grinning. “You’re welcome,” he said, biting into his apple. “The name’s Furlan. You’re Levi, right?”

“Didn’t ask for your help,” Levi quipped, looking up at the eerily jolly boy, narrowing his eyes. “Since you know my reputation, you might not want to stick around.”

Furlan laughed, and Levi a twinge of irritation as he continued talking instead of walking away like everyone else did. “I don’t think you’re that scary, Levi. From what I heard, you don’t start fights, right? I think the guys think you’re an easy target since you’re…Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really short. Even though everyone’s afraid of you, I think, if they’re like me, they’re really just impressed that someone around here isn’t afraid to fight the bullies.”

Levi didn’t say anything to that, he was just trying to survive into the next fucking day, and didn’t think of himself as some sort of savior. But, if Farlan believed in him, maybe he wasn’t so fucked up as he thought.

He sighed, giving the boy a once over as he knew the step he was about to take. To be vulnerable. To give a shit about someone else for the first time in forever.

“So, what brought you here?” He said, as if he said those words before, the words rolling naturally off of his tongue not from an 11 year old, but someone who’s carried the weight of a lifetime.

And just like that, the threads intertwined again.

ii. Adolescence; where threads cross over but never touch

“First day of senior year, Eld! I have a good feeling about this—we’re going to ace our SATs, get into the same college, and we’re going to see the world!” Petra exclaimed, swinging her backpack as they walked to school. Eld chuckled, and flicked Petra’s forehead.

“See the world, huh? With what money? I don’t remember you applying to jobs with me and Gunther over the summer, and now you’re broke.”

Petra huffed and took a playful swipe at Eld’s shoulder. “You know I was helping my dad with his business over the summer. Oruo can vouch for me, he stopped by a couple times to help us—for free, no less!” Petra smiled, thinking about the laborious, but fruitful summer that her family had thanks to everyone’s hard work. Her dad’s hardware business was small compared to the big box stores, but their customers appreciated the charm and personalized customer care that the Ral’s offered. “He’s really grown up, hasn’t he? In grade school he wouldn’t be caught doing something without recognition, and I don’t even know if he mentioned to you two that he was helping out Fridays and Saturdays.”

“Hmm, yeah I guess you could say that,” Eld mused, shaking his head internally at Petra’s obliviousness. She, along with him, were usually the perceptive ones in their little friend group, but he supposed being childhood friends blinded her to certain things, like Oluo’s long time crush on her. Sure, he flirted with her, but he flirted with everyone, and it wasn’t until their sophomore year of high school that he started wanting to seriously date only Petra, but she took his advances as one of a matured best friend and less as a guy in love with his best friend. Eld wondered how involved he should get, maybe doing Oluo a favor and dropping a few hints to Petra that Oluo was a great guy despite his arrogance, and he has come along way since their freshman year.

But, the blond knew that Petra’s feelings for Oluo would remain as best friends, and after her most recent breakup with some guy who seemed like a short stint for junior prom and as a member of the girl’s soccer team, she couldn’t very well go alone…well, it wasn’t a surprise they parted ways shortly after prom.

She confided in Eld that she wanted to start college fresh and with new opportunities, and she would be damned if she let a guy decide her future. It wasn’t like she was going to turn down a date from a cute guy, but she wanted to be very clear that it wouldn’t be more than a few casual dates. Besides, she said to Eld and Gunther, one hazy summer evening when they were eating ice cream at the county fair, who needs a significant other when they all had each other? They then raucously toasted with their popsicles in the air to their future, wherever it took them, and love be damned!

#my fics #rivetra fanfiction #shitty WIP but maybe it'll motivate me to make a proper draft of a canon reincarnation

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aprito · 3 years

Text

hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me)

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please)

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since.

so finally we can move to the first question

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara.

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!

#nonitxt #meta #another hot take from me #but seriously if you're offended over these #unfollow me lol idc #defending predatory content is not a hill im gonna die on in this life

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cowboyshit · 3 years

Text

Only for the Holidays (pt 3)

Ship: Adam “Hangman” Page and Ivy (OFC) Summary: Adam and Ivy cross paths at a mutual friend’s holiday party and hit it off, both admitting they’ve grown tired of constantly being asked about having a partner at the various holiday events they have to attend. They come to an agreement to pretend to date for the holidays to get their friends and family off their backs, but neither of them admit that they’ve had an attraction to each other from the beginning. Will these feelings come to a head? Or will the pair be able to stick to their original plan and only get through the holidays together? Rating: general/fluff Length: 5,484 words part THREE of THREE (part one, part two), the fic can also be read in it’s entirety on ao3 (here)

author’s note: and alas! the final installment of this little fake-dating series I wrote for viv’s @12daysofchristmas challenge! I hope you guys enjoy the finale to this sweet little story, it was nice to write something so warm and fluffy for the holidays even if I was writing it all by the seat of my pants and didn’t have anything planned LOL

Ivy’s phone chimed, indicating a new text message had come through. Pausing in wrapping the last of the gifts she had left, she leaned over and grabbed it to look at the screen. There was a new text message from Adam. A smile immediately turned the corners of her mouth and she quickly opened their text conversation.

How’s your voice doing?

She laughed and immediately tapped out a reply. Better. I actually have one today!

She had lost her voice while screaming at the live Dynamite show his friends invited her to a couple days ago. She’d never been one of the kids who watched wrestling growing up and knew only vaguely what it was about, but she’d had an even better time than she expected. The show they’d put on was fast and full of stunts and surprises Ivy would have never expected. They’d also been absolutely right about it being fun to watch ringside, though she’d had to fight through nerves any time the camera men pointed those large cameras her way. She’d screamed so much by the time she woke up the next morning she’d all but lost her voice.

Watching Adam perform in the ring had been something else entirely. The things he was able to do astonished her. He had to explain what all the moves were called after the match as she excitedly babbled backstage, but he’d seemed like he was glowing when he had. Her favorite had been the “flippy thing he did in the middle” (the shooting star press) and the “flippy thing he did off the pole” (the moonsault off the ring post). She liked the way his blond curls fluffed out and floated, catching the white lights that lit the ring as he maintained control and soared through the air. The athleticism and strength he possessed was amazing. She remembered her delighted surprise when he caught his opponent mid-leap, carried him to the center of the ring, tossed him over and popped up in a smooth kip up that had her eyes gone wide. She’d seen his muscles when she caught herself admiring him, but she hadn’t realized just how strong he was.

Her phone chimed again and distracted her from daydreaming about watching him shirtless and sweaty, getting riled up in the ring. She felt suddenly warm and blushed, looking down at his message.

What are you up to tonight?

They’d been doing this a lot lately. Just texting idly throughout their days, even though her family party wasn’t until tomorrow night. It had started with her asking questions about what to wear to a wrestling show and him giving her details for where she’d need to go, but they always sort of fell into carrying the conversation beyond that. He was just… easy to talk to.

Easy on the eyes, too.

Ivy shook her head at herself and sent him a reply. Wrapping up the last of the gifts to take over tomorrow night.

Oh shoot, was I supposed to get something for your mom?

Ivy couldn’t help but smile. You’re a brand new “boyfriend” she’s never met before, remember? She doesn’t even know about your existence, you don’t have to get her anything. Besides, the family does a big gift exchange cause there’s too many people to individually buy for, and you and I have a joint gift I already bought.

What did we get for the gift exchange? Another quick reply. The notifications were popping up that he read her message as soon as she sent it, which meant he had their conversation actively open.

Ivy opened her camera app and snapped a picture of the still-to-be-wrapped box set full of all the tools necessary to make delicious hot cocoa, as well as peppermint bark, a little bottle of peppermint schnapps and one of chocolate liqueur. She sent the picture to him and typed: A giftset to make spiked hot cocoa!

What are the rules on getting your own gift in the gift exchange? That sounds good. Never spiked my cocoa with peppermint before.

Ivy’s fingers jumped quick to type her message: Really? I don’t do it often since I just like cocoa by itself, but it’s pretty tasty! I’ll have to make it for you some time. She clicked send before reading it back over, then looked at the message and felt her eyes go wide. She should make it for him sometime? When? When they were at her family’s big gettogether, pretending to date so her family wouldn’t make her feel bad for being single? Or when they supposedly “broke up” a few weeks later?

His reply didn’t come back as immediately as the others did. Worry twisted in her stomach.

That would be nice, I’d like that. His reply chimed back. He was just being polite, obviously. She sent a little smiling emoji in reply and closed their conversation, setting her phone aside as she decided to distract herself by finishing wrapping up gifts. After, she could pick what she’d be wearing tomorrow night to the party. Of course she’d been silly to think she could avoid catching some sort of feelings, even a passing infatuation for a cute, sweet, blond-haired cowboy. He clearly hadn’t (she remembered his playful promise that they wouldn’t fall for each other) and she wasn’t going to make him uncomfortable by pursuing something he clearly didn’t feel.

When her phone stayed dark and no further messages came through to carry on their conversation, Ivy knew she was right.

**********

He’d already been nervous the whole day leading up to when he was going to pick Ivy up at her place, but seeing her coming out of the house in her pretty red holiday dress made his mouth go dry. He was a step behind climbing out of the cab to go around and pop the door open for her like a gentleman ought to, too caught up with staring at her walk down the steps of her porch. His fingers curled around the handle as she waited by the passenger side of his truck, rocking a little in her heels. Her smile picked up as she thanked him for opening her door. Adam smiled, but still had to look away from her for a moment.

She was so damn pretty… but it wasn’t just physical. Something had changed for him that night she came out to see him wrestle. He’d felt different in the ring. More energized. He hadn’t been able to stop grinning as he watched her excitedly talk about everything she’d liked afterwards. He’d asked her question after question just to keep her talking. Adam made her tell him everything she liked and didn’t like about the entire night and had laughed as he explained what the different lingo meant. They’d ordered late night food to Daily’s Place and stayed up talking with each other and sometimes with the other wrestlers who were still lingering about.

The next morning he woke up and he missed her. None of this was fake, not any more. Not for him, anyways. Her promise to make him spiked hot cocoa sometime had sat on his mind all night, and it popped up again as he climbed back into the cab and pulled away from the curb. Was it a joke he wasn’t supposed to look too far into? Was she just being nice? Or was that her way of telling him she thought they should keep seeing one another?

This night, her family’s party, was meant to be the last time they were technically together. Every minute that ticked by was one more they wouldn’t have… unless she liked him the way he liked her. Adam just needed to find the right time to ask her. Maybe he’d wait until after the party, he thought, glancing over at her and smiling as she checked her lipstick in the visor mirror. Yeah, that sounded fair. They’d have a good time tonight and in a week or so, he’d reach out and see how she was and find some way to bring it up, even if every time he thought about how much he liked her he got butterflies in his stomach and felt like his tongue swelled up.

She gave him the last of the directions and he slowed his truck as they pulled up to a country home set on at least a good acre of land. The large two-story home was glowing warm out its many windows and was strung up in pretty, twinkling lights. When he parked, he noticed just how many cars were around them.

“Your family really doesn’t mess around, huh?” She’d warned him that her family went all out for the holidays, all the generations rotating households for hosting each year. This year just so happened to be the year her parents were hosting.

“They really don’t,” she said with a laugh as they walked side-by-side up the walkway leading to the porch. Automatic, Adam’s hand reached and curled around hers. She slid her eyes toward him and then smiled and looked at all the cars they were passing, starting to mutter to herself who all had already showed up.

“These are all your relatives?” Adam wasn’t unfamiliar with big family gatherings - his entire upbringing had been Sunday lunches at his grandma’s with all the family in attendance - but he hadn’t anticipated this many people.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Grandma and Grandpa had eleven kids and each of those kids has gotten married and has kids and every one of their kids except for one have had their own kids. Hell, there’s even a new great-grandbaby this year.”

“Wow,” Adam laughed and shook his head, walking up the porch steps and feeling his nerves rise inside.

“The only one who hasn’t had grandkids?” She asked as they stopped in front of the door, her brow arching. “My mom. Because I haven’t had any, and neither has my brother. So… just be ready in case she decides the first time meeting you is the right moment to start slipping baby name ideas to you.”

Adam chuckled. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Alright, brace yourself.” She smiled and turned the knob to open the large wood door with its pretty glass-front window design.

Immediately there was warmth and laughter and underneath the mix of chatter was the soft sounds of low-volume classic Christmas music. String lights hung around the home offered lovely soft yellow lighting, with red ribbons and garland all around. It was beautiful enough to be seen on television, or so Adam thought. As he looked around the living area he tried to picture it without the holiday decorations, the home Ivy grew up in. What kind of kid had she been? Was she bold and adventurous or careful and shy? He looked over at her profile and realized their hands were still clasped.

The nearest people greeted Ivy as she passed and she only took her hand from his to give hugs, catching up with quick questions of how everyone was doing and introducing Adam as they went. By the time he met the sixth or seventh person he realized he was already getting names mixed up. Adam cursed himself and glanced back from where they’d came, squinting as he looked at the faces he’d seen and trying to remember what had been said when they’d been introduced to him not even a minute ago.

“There you are sweetheart! Come here!” A jovial looking woman, short with round hips and waves of gold-blond hair came toward Ivy with open arms. She grabbed her up in a hug and squeezed her tight, even though Ivy groaned.

“Mom! You act like you haven’t seen me in years!” She complained.

“Oh like your mom can’t shower you in love every time you see her.” Her mother shook her head as she pulled away, only then seeming to notice Adam. Her eyes went wide. “Who’s this?” She looked back at Ivy for an explanation.

“My name’s Adam, ma’am.” Adam knew when and how to lay on the charm and he’d promised Ivy he’d be the perfect so-called boyfriend to keep her mother off her back. He extended a hand for a polite shake.

“Mom, this is my…” Ivy and Adam’s eyes met. Her expression softened. “My boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her mom echoed, still holding on to Adam’s hand as she looked from her daughter back to him. “Well! Has he met everyone yet? Did you get him something to drink? What do you want sweetheart? We have eggnog, homemade!” And, still holding on to his hand, Ivy’s mom started to drag him away, ignoring Ivy’s protests that she was introducing him slowly to the family and they’d make their way to the kitchen eventually.

Ivy hadn’t been kidding when she said her family - and her mother - could be a little overwhelming. Although rather than leaving him anxious and strung tight, it was that good kind of overwhelming that instead had him dizzy with warmth and love. Adam was dragged around the house, introduced to everyone he hadn’t met yet (and even those he had) as Ivy followed and kept trying to get her mother to relinquish her hold on him in between apologizing for her mother’s behavior. Truthfully, Adam was struggling to hold back a smile. She was cute, concerned and fussing over him like that, putting those big, pleading eyes on his as she begged him to just hold out a little bit longer.

Finally their trip rounded them back in a circle where her mother was beckoned from the kitchen to help set up more snack trays. Adam and Ivy were left alone (relatively, of course, he noticed there were people grouped throughout the living area) and as they met one another’s eyes he widened his and exhaled an exhausted breath.

“Wow.”

“I know!” Her brows dipped inward, creating little wrinkle lines on her forehead. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm and he felt the muscle tense, electricity up his skin from her touch. “I’m so sorry Adam. I told you she’s relentless and was going to want everyone to meet my boyfriend.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, I felt like a well-bred stud being marched around and shown off.”

“Oh my god!” Ivy snickered and then groaned. Her hand slipped off his arm and he wished he could reach out and put a hand on her hip just to keep them touching. “It was exactly like that. Once she knew you were on t.v. it was all over.” She shook her head, sighing. “I’m sorry, your friends weren’t nearly as much as my mom has been. And this is only the first half hour of the night.”

Adam laughed and as cute as she was worried over him, he decided he’d calm those fears of hers. He started to lift his hand, wanting to push his palm against her cheek and gently hold her face, then remembered himself and let it drop to his side. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

“Nah, I honestly don’t mind it at all. It’s done wonders for my confidence.” His grin stretched playfully into his bearded cheeks.

“You’re a saint,” Ivy laughed and he was happy to see she was happy.

“What about you?” He asked, “I know we’ve only been here a little bit but is it helping?” He hoped it was.

“It is!” She said without hesitation. “That whole time my mom was dragging you around to show you off would have been spent with her reliving my exes to me, asking me where they’re at now, or telling me about women she knows who have single sons my age, or this cute young man my age she met at the grocery store and struck up a conversation with and got his number for me.”

Adam blew another breath out of his mouth. “I’m glad I can help.” But a frown worked its way across his brow. Ivy was a smart, successful, capable woman all on her own. It wasn’t fair that her mother only considered her relationship something to discuss and didn’t pay attention to everything else her daughter was. “You okay?” She asked, and he realized she’d been watching him and seen his change in expression.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah.” But she still peered at him and he knew this wasn’t the place to broach a serious topic like that. “When are you going to tell her about the promotion?”

“Honestly I was so busy trying to keep her from smothering you I completely forgot.” She laughed. “I guess I’ll tell her after the gifts are over. Anyways, come on-” she grabbed his hand, tingles again “-let’s go load up our plates with finger foods. It’s the best part of the whole night.”

Adam grinned, following after her as she held his hand, twining his fingers around hers and thinking about how whole he felt.

*********

The entire evening was better than Ivy could have anticipated. She knew it was mostly due to having Adam as her near-constant company, and feeling warmly closer to him than they probably had any right to be. During the gift exchange they’d claimed a spot on one of the couches and like it was natural, Ivy had leaned into him, Adam had lifted his arm and wrapped it snug around her shoulders. They’d shared a little smile then both looked away, staying cuddled up throughout the entirety of the exchange.

It had come to an end as the last gift was opened and she still didn’t move to get up from leaning on Adam’s soft yet somehow firm body. He didn’t try to lift his arm to separate them, either. Their supposedly shared gift sat at their feet in front of the couch, a large fluffy blanket that she’d had to have the moment she felt it and a Starbucks gift card. Absolutely perfect.

Conversation flowed happily around the room. Ivy and Adam were listening as her father retold his favorite Christmas story - the night Ivy was six and they’d had to come to a sudden stop on snowy roads, after the car righted itself there was a little gathering of stags that’d run out of the woods. Ivy had started to cry, worried that they were Santa’s reindeer and had gotten lost, meaning Santa wouldn’t be able to deliver presents that evening.

“I had to sit there and explain all about the differences between reindeer and white-tails and promise her the whole way home that Santa was going to be able to come that night.” Her father was grinning near ear-to-ear as he chuckled.

Ivy rolled her eyes, but smiled. She was tired of hearing the story every year but it was clearly endearing to her father. Adam, hearing it for the first time, had seemed to enjoy listening to it too.

“She was so cute kicking up a fuss like that.” Her father said warmly.

“I’ll bet she was.” Adam said. Ivy glanced quickly up at him only to see his eyes were locked on hers. Her stomach felt as if it erupted in a wild fluttering of butterflies and she swallowed, feeling a little hot in her cheeks. This was more… wasn’t it? They were being more coupley, weren’t they? Even more than they’d been at his company holiday party. Was their being together, their touching and holding hands becoming more natural to him, too? Or was she going crazy, projecting and seeing the things she wanted to see to justify how she felt about him now?

The questions would drive her insane, she needed to change the topic.

Ivy cleared her throat and looked back at her parents. “I’m getting a promotion at work.”

“Are you?” Her mother gasped.

“That’s wonderful sweetheart,” her father praised with a smile. “When did you find out?”

“A few weeks ago,” Ivy smiled, suddenly feeling almost shy with Adam’s proud gaze on her, his hand gently rubbing up and down her arm. The skimming of his fingertips on her skin was almost distracting.

“Why did you wait so long to tell us?!” Her mother admonished. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing! You’ve been working so hard, it’s about time they recognized it.”

“Thank you mom,” Ivy laughed.

“How’s the pay increase?” Her dad asked.

Ivy shook her head. “It’s actually pretty impressive if I’m being honest.” She’d already started to daydream about all the things in her life she was going to invest in and upgrade. “I’ve been working my ass off to get this promotion.”

“Well!” Her mother was beaming and her eyes slid to Adam and back to Ivy, her smile getting a mischievous little twist. Oh no, thought Ivy. “With more money you’d be able to support a child.” She winked as though they shared an inside secret, then gave that same wink to Adam. “I happen to think I’d make the perfect grandmother.”

Ivy’s heart sank, even with Adam at her side, she was still incomplete. She was sure her mother didn’t mean it, but it still stung. Before she could say something wrong and upset her mother or change the subject entirely, Adam was speaking up.

“With all due respect, ma’am, Ivy and I just started dating; we’re a little far off from seeing how compatible we are or if children are even something either of us want.”

“Oh, of course,” her mother looked taken aback. Ivy gaped at Adam and wasn’t sure if she should pinch him or kiss him for speaking up to her mother.

Adam looked at her, seemed to hesitate, then started talking again. “I know you’re proud of your daughter,” he glanced back toward her parents, who were now watching him with slightly guarded expressions, “but when you jump straight to talking about her lack of children or who she’s dating, it makes it seem like that’s all you care about. I know it’s not my place to say, but I also know it bothers her, and she shouldn’t have to feel like she’s anything less than the amazing woman I’ve come to see she is.”

The small group was quiet. Ivy didn’t know what to say or do. Adam had talked calmly, never raising his voice, but he’d effectively checked her mother’s habit to overlook Ivy’s accomplishments. It was a bold move for a real boyfriend, even bolder for a fake one. Or, hell, maybe he figured he wouldn’t be seeing her parents again and was free to stick up for her even under their own house.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to grab his face and kiss him. No one had ever stood up for her like that. Still, Ivy worried over her mother’s reaction and looked back at her.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“Mom,” Ivy sighed and glanced down at her hands. She made herself look back up. “Yeah. You do. It’s why I waited so long to tell you about the promotion. I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but it feels like it is. It makes me feel like…” Their voices were low enough the conversation was truly just among the four of them, but Ivy still paused to make sure no family members were listening in that she didn’t want to overhear. “Mom, you just make me feel like I’m not doing enough if I’m not seeing someone or giving you a grandchild.” Emboldened by the honesty coming out, she looked over at Adam and shook her head, realizing how ridiculous the whole thing had been to start with. “I mean, Adam and I aren’t even-”

“Aren’t even that serious yet.” He jumped in, talking over her. Ivy tilted her head, eyes on his. Why didn’t he want her to tell her parents that they weren’t actually dating?

“I’m sorry, baby,” her mother said, and when Ivy looked back saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d been so awful about it to you.”

“Mom, no,” Ivy shook her head, shoulders dropping. “Don’t cry. I should have told you how much it bothered me instead of just grinning and bearing it.”

Getting up from the couch, Ivy’s mother stood up too. Immediately Ivy wrapped her arms around her mother and cuddled tight into her as her mother held her, too. “I’m sorry sweetie,” she whispered again in Ivy’s ear, squeezing her a little tighter for a moment before they let go.

“I really am proud of you, you know that? My little Ivy put herself through college, got her dream job, is living independently, and achieving all her dreams. I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you! I brag about you all the time. I just, well, I’m your mom. I worry about you being all alone. And yes, maybe I am a bit baby crazy and I’ve started pushing that off on you.” She shook her head. “You can have no kids, have ten kids, marry once, marry never, I don’t care sweetie. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

“Thank you, mom.” Ivy said, now feeling her own tears rising. She reached to wipe at her eyes, careful of her make-up.

“Hey! No crying on Christmas!” A cousin shouted, looking over and seeing her and her mother having their close, emotional talk. Ivy shook her head as laughter rippled around the room.

“It’s not Christmas, it’s December 19th!” Her mother scolded back. “We can cry all we want to.”

“I think I’m good on the crying,” Ivy laughed and looked back at her mom, softening. “Thank you, mom.”

“You don’t have to thank me for coming to my senses.”

“Well, I think it was more like you were forced to come to your senses.” Her father spoke up and slapped his thighs as he lifted off the couch to stand up with them. Adam stood up as well.

Rubbing his hand at the back of his neck, Adam spoke up. “I’m sorry, I know that wasn’t polite of me-”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Her mother hushed him almost immediately. “I was a little shocked at first, but clearly this was something we needed to talk about.” “I think I would have preferred a less crowded house,” Ivy admitted, looking around. Most of the family was still deep in their own conversations, but she had to have imagined some of them had overheard.

“Any man who stands up for my little girl, to her own mother no less, the first time he’s meeting the family… well, that’s a man I definitely approve of for my daughter.” Ivy’s father chuckled and patted Adam on the back. “I like this one, sweetheart. He’s a good one.”

Ivy smiled as their eyes met. “Yeah, he is.”

The party carried on for a couple more hours of happy chatter until one by one the families started to slowly trickle out. Ivy and Adam were the last to leave, helping tidy up around the house despite her mother’s assurance they shouldn’t bother themselves by cleaning. It really wasn’t a bother. Ivy thought of it as a sort of sweet domesticity, picking up plates and putting leftover food away, cleaning up trash and righting the house again side-by-side with Adam. She kept sneaking glances over at him as he smiled back at her; a few times they’d reached for the same things and brushed their hands against each other. Their touches continued to linger a little longer and a little longer each time, her cheeks warm as their eyes held contact. By the end her gaze kept finding its way to his lips; she just couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop wondering what’d be like to kiss him.

Adam sucked in a breath as they stepped back, having finished putting the last of the food up. “I guess we should get on home?” He asked.

It was rather late, though Ivy felt hesitation she knew was due to this being their possible last moments together. If she said yes, they would walk out of the door, get in his truck, he would drive her home and drop her off and they supposedly would never see one another again. Or, well, they’d maybe see one another, but nothing like this. Nothing like tonight had been. Nothing like the past few weeks had been.

“Yeah,” she said, trying not to let any regret seep into her tone. “We probably should.”

They went to say their goodbyes to her parents, gathering their gift and the leftovers her mother pushed off on her before they finally stepped out of the house. Ivy exhaled into the cool late-night winter air as Adam closed the front door and they stood on the porch.

“Thank you,” she said, not yet descending the steps to go to his truck.

“For?” He frowned, tilting his head as he looked down at her.

“For... standing up for me? For being...you? I don’t know. I just had such a good time tonight I feel like I need to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, darlin’.” He smiled. “I had just as good a time tonight as you, promise. Although, I do still feel like I should apologize. That wasn’t my place to talk to your mom like that.”

“Adam, it’s okay. I was a little taken aback but, honestly like my mom said, that conversation needed to happen.”

“I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” he said, his voice a little hushed. They were still lingering on the porch. Ivy felt like she could stand there all night in spite of the chill, but knew they shouldn’t. She took one last longing glance at his lips and smiled. “I doubt I could ever really be mad at you.”

Maybe little things, tiny annoyances on nerve-frazzled days or the common day-to-day things you argue and work through and overcome to come back stronger than ever. Nothing that would ever make her really resent him, though. She could tell herself until she was blue in the face they’d only been talking a month and she probably didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, but something was telling her everything with Adam would just make sense.

She honestly never felt like this with anyone before. How could she feel so connected to him when they were still essentially strangers? When they hadn’t even really been dating to begin with?

“Come on,” she turned away, the gift bag and tote bag of leftover goodies in tow. “We should probably get off my parent’s porch.”

“Wait,” he said as she turned to walk away, “we almost forgot...”

“Forgot what?” Ivy looked back at him and saw he’d taken a step to close their distance. She had to tilt her head to look up into his eyes where she saw he was holding a little piece of garland.

“It’s tradition to kiss under mistletoe.” He said.

“Adam…” It was hard to keep herself from giggling. The grin spread and pushed up into her cheeks. “That’s not mistletoe, that’s a piece of fake pine-needle garland I think you stole from my mom’s house.”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to do this...” He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers.

Immediately she warmed to his touch, melting against the contact. He took the invitation to sink deeper into their kiss. His hand dropped and found its place on her hip, pulling her tighter against him. The garland had been dropped to the ground, happily forgotten as he ran his tongue between the split of her lips and then sank inside her mouth as she opened with invitation.

The bags fell with a rustle and a thump by her feet and her arms came up quickly around his shoulders, wrapping tightly and pulling him down on her. Their heads moved, matching the shape of their lips better. His fingers squeezed into her hips, the passion mounting further and further the longer their lips touched and tongues stroked.

They broke apart, chests rising and falling quick as they exhaled large, foggy white breaths in the small space between them. All Ivy could taste was him. She felt deliriously dizzy.

“I have been wanting to do that for a long damn time,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I broke our rule,” she confessed. They were still holding each other, going nowhere but lost in one another’s eyes.

“Our rule?”

“We weren’t supposed to fall for each other, remember? I’m afraid I might be falling, cowboy.”

A warm smile melted across his face.

“I think I’ve already beat you there.” He bent and, just before his lips touched hers, exhaled his promise across her mouth, “I’ll be ready to catch you, darlin’.”

#fanfiction #aew fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman page fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page #adam page #hangman page #aew #all elite wrestling #mine: fanfiction #my fics: hangman adam page #12daysofchristmas #HAHA! i posted it at 10pm im not late and i didn't just spend the last three hours panic writing this to make sure i finished it no sir

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

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Hi! I'm glad to see that your muse is back, or at least it's what it seems like. When you're done with the Josty fic, could you write something fluffy with ZAR where you're cuddling on the couch, talking about Carl then one of you drop a "Yeah he's a good family dog", and you both freeze because you've never really talked seriously about your future together? Your "Shut Up and Dance with me" blurb made me fall for him

For the moment my muse actually seems to be on...we’ll see how long that lasts. You guys are killing me with the ZAR requests as frequently as he’s killing me with content of Carl. Damn a girl can dream about this being reality. I deviated from the prompt just a little but not that much. I’m so glad you loved that blurb...if you haven’t already read it, I also wrote a little something based on a Moulin Rouge song for him that is super sappy and cute and features my favorite puppy. Anyway, enjoy! (996 words)

~~~~~

You’d finally reached the stage of your relationship with Zach where you felt comfortable using the key he gave you to let yourself into his apartment. Of course, you’d been letting yourself in while he was on the road for a month or so but this time he wasn’t on the road, he was just at practice. And you were supposed to be at work.

But you’d woken up with a migraine and upset stomach and had called in sick before rolling back over in bed. When you’d woken again the migraine had subsided a bit but a lingering throb was still present at the base of your skull. Deciding you needed cuddles, and they couldn’t wait until Zach was done at the rink, you slipped on a pair of sweats, one of your boyfriend’s hoodies, and made your way across town from your apartment to his.

Once inside you made your way over to Carl’s crate in the corner and opened it, reaching in to pet the sleepy puppy. Immediately he stirred, nuzzling against your hand but he stayed mellow and lazy in temperament and allowed you to pick him up, carrying him over to the couch. There you snuggled down into the fluffy cushions, Carl settled on your chest as you scratched gently over his ears and down his back.

“Chill with me until your daddy gets home?” You suggested, Carl responding by licking your fingers and further burrowing himself against you, under the blanket you’d pulled over yourself.

You must have dozed off again because the next thing you remembered was warm fingers brushing hair off of your forehead before a pair of lips kissed the same spot. Stirring you watched as Zach made his way around the couch, tucking himself under your legs.

“Are you okay babe?” He questioned, not used to you being in his apartment in the middle of the day. With a yawn, you nodded, reaching down to pet the puppy resting against you acting completely undisturbed by Zach’s arrival.

“Woke up with a migraine and an upset stomach so I took the day off.” You murmured. “And then I decided I wanted cuddles.” You added causing Zach to chuckle.

“I would have just come over after practice if you had texted me.” He mused, fingers tracing patterns over your calves.

“But then I would have had to wait…” You whined. “Instead I came over and got immediate snuggles.” Zach’s eyebrow raised and you lowered the blanket to reveal the snoozing puppy cuddled into your chest. Zach’s eyes immediately went soft and he smiled over at you.

“He’s such a cuddly dog.” Zach mused and you nodded, petting Carl gently until his little black eyes peered up at you. Still, he didn’t move, content to stay right where he was, warm and with your rhythmic breathing to soothe him. “He’s gonna be a good family dog, he’s so patient,” Zach added and suddenly it felt like your heart stopped.

A family?

You’d been together for a while but you certainly hadn’t had any conversations about anything longer than the end of this season. It seemed like Zach had realized how his words had come across because he also sat frozen, his fingers no longer moving gently over your skin. It was Carl’s whine because you had stopped petting him that pulled you back from the depths of your brain and you gently nudged Zach with your foot.

“Wanna elaborate on that whole family thing?” You whispered softly watching as Zach blushed. Zach carded his fingers through his hair, his expression unreadable.

“Some of the guys were talking…” He started, pausing almost immediately. “Dumo about Brayden, Muzz about his daughter…” When he trailed off again you gave him a minute before gently nudging him with your foot once more. “I don’t know…” He mumbled. “I guess I never really thought that was something I’d ever have but...lately I can’t help but picture a little one with your eyes, skating with them, snuggling them, seeing whether they take after you or me more…”

Carl attempted to break the stillness of the air by pushing his nose against yours before turning and finally pacing down your body to greet his dad.

“I guess...I wanna be more than a dog dad. And you’re the only one I can imagine having my kids.”

Carl yipped softly, his tail wagging frantically back and forth.

After a moment you pulled yourself upright, shifting to tuck your legs underneath you.

“Sounds like someone else is cool with that idea.” You teased, leaning closer to Zach. Biting your lower lip you took a deep breath. “Carl would be a great big brother…” You pondered, a smile growing over your face. “And you’d make an incredible dad.” You added, closing the distance between you, your lips seeking out Zach’s gently. You couldn’t deny that you’d also thought about a family with Zach, but it was mostly just you being wistful, not sure it would ever come to fruition. This conversation though, it made you want it all the more. So breaking the kiss you trailed your mouth over to Zach’s ear, whispering softly.

“You just let me know when you want to make it happen.” Carl jumped to the floor as Zach’s hands pulled you over his lap so that you were straddling him. As you shifted you felt him grow hard against you and you felt your smirk grow. A squeal quickly followed as Zach lifted you and started for his bedroom, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“How about we start right now?” He suggested, kicking the door shut behind him.

At that moment you were certain you couldn’t love Carl more for bringing you and Zach even closer together and pushing your relationship forward.

“Practice makes perfect.” You whispered as Zach’s lips trailed down your throat. You couldn’t help but squeal again as Zach ground against you.

“I’d rather just make a baby.”

#zach aston-reese #zach aston-reese imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #ppenguins #Anonymous

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i-love-pandasxtomatoes · 4 years

Text

Fluff fic!

A/N: Hi! This is my first fic! Pls, pardon my mistakes as this isn't beta read and I wrote this in the middle of the night. We had drunk Adora but I can't help but think of drunk Catra. I hope this story makes sense!

Italics are Adora's inner thoughts!

Summary: Someone "accidentally" fed Catra catnip.

The Best friends Squad and Super Pal Trio compete for Catra's attention.

In which Catra is drunk on catnip.

And everyone else has an obsession with cats.

Fic is not Beta Read! Fic is crossposted on AO3!

It had been a long day of helping out in the Fright Zone.

After Horde Prime was defeated and magic was restored to Etheria, the Princesses had a meeting to discuss what was to be done. Buildings and villages destroyed during Horde Prime's time on Etheria had to be repaired and some structures need to be rebuilt. Among all the chaos, it had also been decided that the Fright Zone will be going through some reconstruction before Scorpia could rise to the throne that she deserves. Of course, everyone volunteered to help out.

Adora sighed as she walked through the campsite that the alliance had set up temporarily during their stay at Fright Zone while stretching her muscles. She had spent a long day as She-Ra, helping out with tearing down pieces of the old buildings and lifting the heavy materials required to rebuild the buildings along with the other princesses and she all she wanted now were cuddles with her soft girlfriend, Catra. Maybe Catra would allow Adora to rub her ears or even give her a chance to pat that fluffy tummy that she sported! Pushing back those thoughts, she took a look around, hoping to see a certain cat-like girl but all she saw were the princesses sitting around the campfire they've built, seemingly relaxing with small conversations going on within themselves while Catra herself, was nowhere to be seen.

Adora frowned, disappointed knowing that she wouldn't be able to get her well-deserved cuddles anytime soon. She recalls Catra leaving a few hours ago after she announcing that she was heading towards Entrapta's makeshift tent lab to pick up some parts needed for the reconstruction going around but Adora hasn't seen her anywhere after that. A closer look around made her realize that Scorpia and Entrapta weren't anywhere around either.

Maybe they were all in Entrapta's tent?

She decided to make her way down to Entrapta's lab to check if there was anything wrong and hopefully find her girlfriend there too

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What Adora found was ... not what she would've expected ... in a million years or so...

When she got to the tent, she had expected to be dragged in by Entrapta and forced to listen through one of the many theories the enthusiastic girl came out with. However, she was met with the turned backs of Entrapta and Scorpia as they huddled over something, unaware of her presence.

There they are!

Catra however, was still nowhere in sight.

"Hey, guys!" She called out. "Have you seen Catra anywhere?"

That seemed to get their attention.

"Oh hey, Adora! Didn't see you there haha" Scorpia turns around laughing awkwardly and looking sheepish.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed. It was then Adora realized that Scorpia was carrying a certain someone in her claws.

Someone that she spent the past hour looking for.

Her first reaction was relief. At least Catra wasn't hurt. However, that relief soon turned into concern when she realized Catra wasn't thrashing around like how she usually did when Scorpia hugged her or picked her up. She tried to get closer to Scorpia so she could take a closer look.

Well, she did try until she was blocked by Entrapta's hair? And Scorpia seems to have moved back a bit during the process?

Before Adora could try again or ask why did they do that, Catra let out a small contented purr from Scorpia's claws and opened her eyes.

"Catra! Are you alright?" She asked.

She expected a scoff or a casual remark but she got none. The girl wasn't protesting about being in Scorpia's claws either. Her eyes met Catra's mismatched ones trying to spot any signs of discomfort. There was none. However, the said girl had a glazed over look in her eyes? Before Adora could ask if she was okay again, Catra suddenly mewled out.

"Adowa?"

What the f-! What just happened? Adowa? That's me right? She's calling for me? I haven't heard that since we were 5 and that was back when Catra couldn't pronounce her words properly...

"Uh..." Adora started.

"I'msorryweaccidentallydruggedher" Scorpia blurted out.

"WHAT?"

"Uhm... I said we're sorry we accidentally drugged her..." Scorpia whispered out.

Adora stood there, processing the words.

Drugged her... drugged her... Catra's drugged... drugged... drugs... isn't that bad?

She opened her mouth but no words came out of it.

Entrapta seemed to have sensed her distress and spoke out, explaining the effects of the drugs. They sat down in a circle, with Catra still in Scorpia's claws. Adora felt mildly upset that she wasn't the one holding Catra but she quickly pushed down the thought.

Scorpia has the right to hold her. Shes Catra's friend too.

But that did not stop her from wishing it was her arms that Catra was snuggling in

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Apparently, it was a new type of plant Scorpia and Perfuma found growing near the outskirts of Fright Zone earlier in the day.

When Scorpia brought it into the tent for Entrapta to take a look at it, Catra who was there accidentally breathed it in and proceeded to bite into it. Which resulted in the current situation.

"We've decided to name the plant 'Catnip'" Entrapta started.

"It's named that way as I did my research and found that there's a chemical compound in the plant that attracts and affects specifically felines and as we all know Catra's basically a cat. When a cat smells catnip, it causes the cat to go crazy and when they consume it, it acts as a sedative. Oh! And they tend to react hyperactively although, after a certain amount of time, cats under the influence of catnip seem to calm down and get sluggish and sleepy. At least that was what I got from observing Catra!" She ended her rambles enthusiastically.

Adora's brain seemed to have shut down.

All she got from that speech was 'hyperactive' and 'sleepy'.

"Is it safe for her though?" she asked.

"Don't worry! Catnip is relatively harmless! It is not addictive and the active ingredient is nontoxic and therefore has no adverse effects on cats or Catra!" Entrapta beams.

"Oh, that's great then!" Adora breathed out.

"I'll bring her back to our tent and rest for the night." She made a move to pick Catra up from Scorpia's claws, noting the slight reluctance the other girl displayed as she lifted Catra into Adora's arms. Once she was in her arms, Catra started purring and snuggling into Adora.

"Adowaaaa" she mewls out. Proceeding to beam brightly at her before snuggling into her Adora's chest.

Adora swore she almost had a heart attack there in Entrapta's lab. She barely registers Entrapta scribbling out notes in the corner or Scorpia being flustered in the background. Blushing lightly, she clutches Catra close to her, making her way to the tent opening, smiling to herself. She was definitely gonna enjoy the night if Catra was going to be behaving this way.

However before she could step out of the door, a certain purple-haired tendril containing catnip shot out and waved under Catra's nose. Almost immediately, the catgirl shot out of Adora's arms in favor of the damned plant. Adora groaned and turned back only to see Entrapta trying her best to look innocent while Catra pawed at her hair.

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Adora sighed for the 66th time that night.

She was supposed to be back in bed and cuddling up with Catra and getting the rest she deserved after the long day.

But a certain someone just had to ruin it.

She let out a puff of annoyance from her position on the floor as she not so subtlely glared in Entrapta's direction. The purple-haired genius was entertaining Catra with a giant robot that had spinning mechanical birds which the catgirl was trying to bat at while Scorpia was... petting her?

"Catra? Do you wanna go back now?" Adora tried.

She didn't get a response.

"Cat-"

"I think it would only be wise to let Catra stay here for the night. Just so I can take notes about this situation" Entrapta cuts in.

Scorpia seems to light up too. "Oh! I'll stay and help!" she chirps.

"What?" Adora blurts out.

No! She's supposed to be in bed with me...

She glances at Catra, who was happily pawing at Entrapta's hair again and decided she had dealt with enough things today. Adora was going to get Catra back in bed with her tonight. One way or another. She stood up and begin to approach the trio.

"Sorry guys. I think it'll be better if she was with me for the night." She starts. Entrapta and Scorpia looked at each other for a moment and she took the chance to pluck Catra, who was currently tangled in Entrapta's hair out of the mess. However, she was met with resistance. Adora looked down to see a purple tendril wrapped around Catra's waist.

"Excuse me?" she half yelled. Annoyance showing on her face.

Entrapta and Scorpia refused to look at Adora.

Just then Bow and Glimmer peeked into the tent.

"Adora? Is everything ok? We heard yelling..." Bow asked.

"Yeah! Just help me get Catra out of here!"

"... ..."

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CRASH

A loud sound rang out from Entrapta's tent as Catra knocked over something in her quest to chase after a sparkly magic sphere Glimmer had produced as means to lure her over to Adora's side.

"Huh... That's kinda cute " Glimmer muttered as Catra bounded over to her, looking at her with dilated eyes. Glimmer stretched out her hand to rub the other girl's ears. Catra started purring and leaned into her touch, nuzzling her cheek into Glimmer's hand, her tail wagging lazily in the background. Glimmer's cheeks heated up and she started to furiously rub her hands against the other girl's cheeks while muttering something about horde scum and being unfair.

Meanwhile, in the background, Adora and Bow swore they saw steam coming out of Glimmer's ears.

"Do you think Catra will let me pet her too?" Bow squealed, his eyes sparkling brightly.

All Adora did was to pout slightly while she stared at the scene in front of her mutely.

That was supposed to be reserved for me...

Glimmer was actually having fun petting Catra. Catra was just so soft and warm she couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of Adora, who got to hold Catra every night in bed. Nights in Etheria could be cold at times while sometimes a queen just needs some fluff in her life. Grinning to herself, Glimmer decided to enjoy the moment while it lasted, making mental notes to get herself some of that catnip that Adora explained to her about while they were trying to get Catra's attention earlier on.

"Just in case." she thought.

Glimmer's happiness was short-lived as Catra leaped away from her, in favor of Scorpia when she walked past, holding a cardboard box that Catra jumped into after she set it down.

Adora and Bow barely registered Glimmer dragging her feet across the tent to join them. The Best Friend Squad stared in the direction of Scorpia and Catra.

Scorpia was gushing madly about how she always wanted to do this while sitting down next to the box and petting Catra who was purring loudly after settling herself comfortably into the box. Entrapta joined them and wrapped her hair tendrils around the purring cat, smiling when she saw her snuggle into it.

"I must say this does feel great." Entrapta lets out softly.

"It does right? We should do this more often! Super Pal Trio bonding time!" Scorpia said.

Wait... what?!

"Bow! Do something! We can't let them win Catra over!" Glimmer nudged Bow in the ribs repeatedly.

Adora seemed to be too lost in her thoughts to actually do anything so Glimmer thought she had to step up and take charge of this whole situation.

"Uhm. Let me see what I have!" Bow said as he fumbled through his pockets searching for anything he could use. His hands settled on a small metallic object which he pulled out of pockets.

"Is that a laser pointer?" Glimmer asked as she moved closer to take a look.

"Yeah! I found it on the floor earlier when we were still helping out and I brought it with me. I wanted to ask if it belongs to anyone but I guess I forgot. Do you think this will work?" He asked sheepishly.

"Well, only one way to find out."

Bow shrugged as he pointed the laser near Catra.

Everyone watched as Catra shot up and lunged at the red spot. Entrapta and Scorpia visibly looked disappointed. Adora was still staring blankly and Glimmer started laughing really badly when Catra chased the red spot around the tent. Bow was grinning as he waved the pointer around wildly, watching Catra trying her best to catch the moving red spot. A sudden thought struck him.

"Glimmer quick!" he exclaims. "Point it near me!" handing the queen the pointer.

Glimmer rolls her eyes and points it near Bow. Catra landed near him in one big leap.

"Omg! I can't believe I'm getting a chance to do this!" He squeals, putting a hand on Catra's head and softly petting her. She started purring, pleased at the feeling.

A few minutes later, Catra yawned and turned away from the touches.

"Oh! She must be getting sleepy again!" Entrapta explains.

They all watched as Catra padded over the tent, jumping onto one of Entrapta's many computer things. She stretched herself and promptly started drifting into sleep.

Everyone was surprised at how Entrapta didn't say anything or make a fuss when Catra spread herself all over Entrapta's precious tech. The purple-haired girl merely shrugged as she extended a purple hair tendril to gently rub it against Catra's head before turning around and aggressively scribbling down notes in the corner of her tent.

For a moment, everything was calm.

Until Glimmer noticed Scorpia trying to sneak over to where Catra was snoozing at. As much as everyone loves Scorpia, it is also a well-known fact that the girl was not able to be sneaky at all. Glimmer turned to Adora. Adora hasn't spoken a word or even moved a muscle and it was seriously beginning to creep Glimmer out.

"Adora! Snap out of it" Glimmer exclaims as she shakes her friend violently.

"Don't you want your cat back?" she harshly whispered.

That seemed to have snap Adora back from whatever was going on in her head.

"But how..." she trailed off.

"Well, I don't know? What does she like?" Glimmer asked.

"Doesn't she like She-Ra's muscles? I've caught her staring at it a few times..." bow noted.

Adora seemed to pipe up at this.

"I'll give it a shot." she grins. Adora stretched out her hand and imagined She-Ra. Feeling the power course through her. She opened her eyes, satisfied when the ground seemed further away. She started making her way towards Catra in long strides, reaching her before Scorpia could. The poor girl seemed to deflate at the sight of She-Ra and averted her eyes.

She-Ra stood in front of Catra, who was back facing her and curled up into a ball on the computer.

"Hey, kitty..." She let out softly. No one needed to hear the nickname she reserved for Catra when they were in private.

She watched as Catra's ears twitched slightly, her form uncurling when she sat up and blinked slowly at She-Ra. She-Ra smiled and opened her arms.

"Come here. Come back to me." She whispers.

That seemed to do the trick as Catra launched herself at She-Ra, throwing her limbs around the taller girl before nuzzling her face into She-Ra's neck and mewling softly. She-Ra grinned as she reverted to into her other form, holding Catra tightly against her.

"Well then guys, we will be taking our leave now," Adora said, leaving the tent with a smug look on her face.

I finally got what I wanted!

Meanwhile Glimmer facepalms herself and groans. Trust Adora to leave them there after getting what she wants. There was an awkward silence in the tent and it was a few minutes before Bow spoke out.

"Catra won't be remembering any of this right?"

"There are cameras everywhere in my tent" Entrapta chimes out.

Bow grinned

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Back in Catradora's tent

Adora swore she was on cloud nine. After stripping both of them down into their undergarments because that was what they usually slept in, she was lying on a thin mattress with Catra snuggling and nuzzling her. This did not happen often and she was definitely taking advantage of it.

Placing her hands on each side of Catra's face, she begins to rub the feline's ears.

Oh wow, this feels great... She's so soft I could do this my whole life and never get tired...

Catra starts purring as Adora continues her assault on Catra's ears.

Catra's enjoying this too...

Adora snickers and let her eyes wander down towards Catra's tummy.

I wonder how this feels like...

She decided to try something new and nuzzled Catra's fluffy tummy.

God. If this is a dream, I hope I never have to wake up from it. This feels like heaven.

After she decides she has had enough for the night, Adora wraps her arms around Catra, pulling the girl near her chest which Catra immediately snuggles into. She dips down and placed a small kiss on Catra's nose.

"I love you" Adora whispered to Catra.

"Mhmm... wuv you too Adowa"

Adora chuckles lightly before closing her eyes and letting sleep take over

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The next morning, Catra woke up feeling oddly refreshed.

She glanced around and found Adora getting dressed in the corner.

"Morninggg" Catra drawls out pulling her shirt and tights on.

She approaches Adora and they share a peck.

Catra noted that Adora seemed to be in a strangely good mood this morning.

"Did anything good happen yesterday? You seem to be in a great mood." She asks.

"Oh, it was great." Adora beams out as she took Catra's hands and led her out of the tent. Catra shrugs. If Adora was happy then all is well.

They walked through the strangely quiet campsite.

"Hey! Where did everyone go? Did we miss the morning meeting?"

Catra was about to tell her they were definitely earlier than the agreed timing and everyone was probably still sleeping until she heard giggles coming out of Entrapta's tent.

"Come on. I heard noises over there." she grabbed Adora's hand and they walked towards the tent.

She peeled the entrance to the tent open and stepped in. What she saw next made her freeze.

The Princesses, along with their partners were huddled together and watching a video together.

A video about Catra.

"Wait." She thought. Her face turning red. "When did this happen?"

She turned to look at Adora who was looking anywhere but at her.

Catra opened her mouth to speak but before she could get any words out, she was interrupted.

"AWWWWWW"

Catra turned back to the screen and to her horror, the scene playing out on the screen right now was about her.

HER.

CUDDLING.

SHE-RA.

AND PURRING.

SHE-RA.

And so Catra screamed at the one person she knew who had the tech to actually do this.

"ENTRAPTA!"

"Oops"

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Bonus:

Catra swears she doesn't remember those things happening. It must be a mistake! Either that or it's fake! That definitely did not happen.

"Yeah it must be a mistake" she muttered as she walked around Fright Zone alone, searching for things to do.

Meanwhile, she was unaware of the fact that after she ran out from the tent in embarrassment, Perfuma and Scorpia led everyone else to the place they found the catnip growing at.

Catra's peaceful days were about to end.

#catradora #shera #fanfic #adora #bow #glimmer #entrapta #scorpia #catra #spop

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sugarcoated-eloquence · 4 years

Text

Foreboding (Targets: Part 2)

A/N: Hello, hello! Welcome to the shitshow, aka my blog. This is part two of a potential 4/5 part series that I am co-writing with the lovely @sweetestrequiems. Click here for Part 1. Each chapter is focused on a different queen or issue related to the queens. This specific chapter is Catherine Parr centric, but the other queens are all very present.

Please note the following ships are canon in this fic’s universe: Parrlyn, Aramour

{Trigger warnings: anxiety, mention of blood, slight violence}

I should also note some passages are written in German and Spanish and should be google searched to better comprehend the story.

Taglist: @sweetestrequiems, @theatergirl06, @silverpetals97, @six-fragile-dreams, @patdfobmcr-yt, @frogs-in-clogs, @mindless-pidgeon

Other than that..... enjoy! Below the cut.

It would not stop.

The constant feeling like something would go wrong.

Katherine Howard could not tell if it was the anxiety, or if it was something else. She physically felt okay, and everything seemed fine, but for the life of her, the girl could not put her finger on that bad feeling. Being so lost in her thoughts, Howard was found, brows furrowed, staring down at her food, rather than eating it. Of course, this raised concerns with her cousin, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Boleyn’s face began to reflect the concern when she raised an eyebrow. Seymour had more of a sad-looking face, but nonetheless, the worry was quite present.

“Katherine?”

“Hey, Kitty… you okay?”

The two voices snapped Howard out of her trance. She looked up, shaking her head seconds after her attention went to the two women. “Yeah, yeah! Just had something come across my mind is all. I’m fine, really. Guess I’m just getting the typical pre-show jitters everyone gets,” which wasn’t a lie, either. But, Katherine did feel a pang of guilt in having to be dishonest with Jane and Anne. Howard was one of the Queens who always got some pre-show anxiety, alongside Catherine of Aragon– (much to everyone’s surprise)– and Boleyn. It wasn’t a rare occasion, though, considering they had just about an hour before they had to head to the theatre. It wouldn’t seem like much now, but this feeling Katherine Howard was having was not a good one.

––––––––––

During the matinee, Katherine could not shake off that constant thought.

But she was not alone. The feeling had begun to haunt her cousin Anne.

Anne Boleyn’s eyes began to glance around the audience, knowing that Katherine was in the middle of delivering the roast of the century to Jane, Catherine Parr, and Anna of Cleves. A certain man had caught her eye up in the upper level; the second row in the left Circle Slip of the Arts Theatre, to be more precise. Something about that blond hair. And cold, blue eyes. Something about the way he was leaning on the railing while he sat began to bother Anne. Her attention snapped right back to the show when she heard Katherine say, “I can’t even begin to think of how I could compete with you all. Oh wait, like this!” to signal the start of All You Wanna Do. But even with her focus on the show, Boleyn’s glances kept going back up to that strange man.

“I think we can all agree I’m the ten amongst these threes!”

What about him bothered Anne Boleyn so much? She did not know.

Was it his face? No, he seemed to be fairly attractive. Was it the way he stared at all of them? Possibly, since he seemed to be rather uncomfortable when Aragon brought up Leviticus and Mary in No Way. He also looked disgusted during Boleyn’s spotlight in Don’t Lose Ur Head. He looked very, very abhorred with Haus of Holbein and Anna of Cleves. But his eyes when Katherine Howard was singing screamed danger, and Anne could see it. Her frequent glancing that first day saw him tense up upon a few lines:

“Tall, large, Henry the Eighth.

Supreme Head of the Church of England.

Globally revered, although you wouldn’t know it from the look of that beard.”

And the end of All You Wanna Do, as far as Anne could tell from where she was on the stage, had him gripping the railing tightly. Was anger the reason he furrowed his eyebrows, or something else? The distance was not helping her much. Overall, she was picking up a few assumptions just from the one matinee show. This guy was either a historian that pretty much agreed with Henry VIII’s horrible decisions in life, or someone the Queens knew personally. What Anne decided to think though, was the former. Maybe this guy was just a historian and unimpressed with the show, right?

That first show could have not ended sooner. But as the lights on the stage went somewhat dim to allow the six ladies to exit, Anne Boleyn paused and allowed the others to go in front of her. She kept her gaze on that very man, and watched him stand up, turn around, and head on out of the seating area. The fact that she was the last one to leave concerned Cleves a bit. Right before she could even reach the dressing room, the queen in red put a hand on the green queen’s shoulder. “Moment mal, Anne. Was stört dich? Du hast anscheinend nicht dein gewohntes Lächeln am Ende der Show gehabt,” the German gently gave the shoulder a squeeze. Boleyn found herself sighing. “What’s going on? You normally smile and you were barely holding one up today by the end of the show,” Cleves made herself translate what she had previously said.

“I don’t know, honestly. I guess I thought I saw someone that Maggie knew in the audience. It was weird. I’m normally not out of it either. Anyways, if Aragon took the couch, she’s going to regret it. It’s my nap time,” the cheeky grin came back to the ruby lips. A nod from Cleves, and the two were well on their way to the dressing room. Was Aragon on the couch? Absolutely. And Anne 100% kicked her off of it just so she could lay down and sleep after she changed back into her comfortable clothes. No space buns, no makeup– just a giant hoodie and some sweatpants.

––––––––––

The other dressing room was a little more lively for a good while.

Katherine Howard was up on her feet, bouncing around with energy. Catherine Parr had decided to join her this afternoon. What were the two doing while Jane Seymour took the time to answer some tweets and messages? Dancing. The two ladies were dancing, which was almost the catalyst for Jane setting her phone down and joining them. In fact, she just wanted in on the fun. The three danced around for maybe half an hour, before a yawning Katherine Howard took to the couch to take a nap herself. Parr and Seymour stayed awake, with Parr looking for her notebook and Seymour going back to the tweets and messages.

“Cathy, look at this,” tapping her counterpart on the shoulder, the blonde woman moved her phone to be between them both. “It’s us with our kids!” If there was one thing Jane Seymour loved about the fans they had, it was all of the fanart of them with their kids. A smile was brought to Catherine Parr’s face as she looked up to meet Jane’s eyes. “If there’s one thing I have always appreciated, it’s that they know we aren’t the only Tudors that kicked some serious ass.” The laugh both of them shared was quiet, as to not wake Katherine up from her post-show nap.

The calligraphy pen twirled around Parr’s fingers for a solid minute or so before she finally began to write. Each queen had their thing to do post-matinee if it was a two-show day.

Catherine Parr wrote notes about her performances.

Jane Seymour responded to fans. And to as many of them as possible, too!

Both of the Beheaded Cousins slept their time away.

Anna of Cleves did various things, such as meditate and listen to music.

Catherine of Aragon normally left the dressing room to find a quiet spot in the theatre’s backstage to pray.

This normal routine was going to be shaken up a little too much. So much that Boleyn and Howard were too tense to take their usual between show naps.

––––––––––

The same seat every damn time.

Who the hell was this guy?

And why was he now looking so bitter towards Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard?

Three weeks since the mystery man had first caught Boleyn’s eyes in the middle of a performance. But now it was a pattern. Two night shows and a matinee, and always on the exact same nights. Exact same seat, exact same everything. This was starting to piss Boleyn off, and scare Howard. He looked at them with more than just malicious intent in his eyes, to the point that Katherine sometimes blanked on her lines. It was to the point when Anne was singing, she’d put more emphasis on “Hold up, let me tell you how it went down.” just to spite him. This historian guy, or whoever he truly was, did not settle well with the cousins.

But on the night of a Sunday performance, the Queens all got a rude awakening they were not ready for. And the two to be given the first wave were none other than the Beheaded Cousins themselves:

Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard.

––––––––––

This tension was so chilling that it even caused Anne to fumble a few of her lines. Even the infamous “Yeah, I read.” was not the usual confident, snarky remark it usually was. Having made eye contact with the mystery man while trying to deliver the line was definitely part of it, and for a moment there was a stiff awkwardness in the air. They’d recover quickly, of course, but the general consensus between the group was that something was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

The man quickly left, before the end of bows, and somehow located an usher and told him he was an old friend of the girls’. The girls weren’t too akin to refusing to meet people, so immediately after stagedooring and meeting fans, they all headed backstage to meet whoever had requested a personal meet and greet. Kit’s the first through the door and she stops dead in her tracks. Those eyes. They were the same bright blue eyes that she saw in her dreams at night, the same eyes she stared into right before… well…

She swallows, backing up a little. Anne comes crashing through the door, chaos embodied, and happily dances around for a moment before noticing the anxiety seething from Howard’s small frame. “What’s wrong, love?” Kit simply points to the man, and Anne’s heart drops to her stomach as well. She too, can’t look away from those crystal eyes. The blond hair. The everything.

Anne can barely talk above a whisper could even tell it was him would make the situation less real. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe he was just another person. One can hope, but no luck there, Anne. She can feel Kit shaking, and reaches to take her hand, letting out a shaky breath and considering shouting for Parr.

The others trickle in quickly after, the ‘mystery man’ still just staring at the two cousins with ferocious intensity. The last to enter, though, is Jane Seymour. The metaphorical mother of the group, the caretaker, any other synonym you can think of. Jane is never one to cast judgement. She walks in, and despite the obvious tension, says a polite hello to the man. He simply nods in response.

Parr joins Anne at the hip, whispering to her. “Is he what’s got you all rattled, love?” Anne lets out a small nod. “It’s him.”

That statement reaches Jane’s ears and immediately her demeanor changes. She stands up a little straighter, setting her microphone down on the dressing room’s main table, and just looks at him. She moves a little closer, pushing the other girls behind her, and she can only say one thing.

“...Henry?”

He steps forward, and while the other girls move back, Jane stays planted to her spot. He smiles, trying to turn on the charm, reaching for her hands. “The one I truly lov—” He’s cut off by a slap. Yes, Jane Seymour just slapped a man. He brings a hand up to his red cheek, eye showing that it indeed, hurt. Cleves stifles a laugh.

“Don’t ever associate that word with me. You don’t know what love is.” A few tears well up in the blonde’s eyes, but refuses to let them fall. Not for him. “Love isn’t keeping your wife from holding her newborn child!” Her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, centering herself.

“You all look so different.” The scruffy voice chimes, and immediately Kit visibly tenses up. She, unlike Jane, is unable to hold the tears in. Though they flow silently, they flow heavily. “There’s no need to cry, Katherine… or should I say ‘Kitty’, now?”

“Don’t speak to her. You do not have permission to do that.” Jane moves to block his view, but he simply repositions himself. Anne elects to go in for a dig. The devilish smirk returns, though small, and she gives Kit’s hand a squeeze before moving a tiny step forward.

“You know, mate, if you’re still having trouble… you know, with your little friend, we can get you a prescription for Viagra. Or Cialis, plenty of options.” She emphasizes ‘little’ by using her thumb and pointer finger to indicate his size. It makes Kit smile a little. The silence in the air was broken by a stifled laughter. That had to be the funniest thing Cleves ever heard Boleyn say outside of the wit written in the script. Aragon gave her a nudge, but even she agreed with the sentiment.

The blond man, finally revealed as the reincarnated Henry VIII, just narrowed his eyes. “How funny, laughter coming from someone who couldn’t perform.” Anne’s smirk went away, as she looked back towards Cleves with a hurt expression. Cleves’ grin was gone, with gritted teeth behind a closed mouth replacing it. Aragon let out a sigh. “That’s low for the man who so easily says he believes–”

“Catalina, don’t even get me started on you either.”

Not a single comment from Catherine Parr. She just stood there, feeling herself drift between a rational mind and pure impulse. Did this guy just come back to insult them, and get a second wind to take Katherine? Oh no, that was not happening. She saw it all, too. Jane’s reddening face from holding back the tears, Cleves’ rather tame anger, Aragon’s scowl… Kit’s pale face from the fear, and Anne being powerless. Jane Seymour honestly, had lost her mind way before Catherine Parr did in this scenario, but… there was always going to be a breaking point for the quiet one.

“So you and your whore cousin think you can just slander my name like that? I’d have you both back at the scaffold in front of the Tower if I had–”

“Scaffolds don’t exist anymore, you twat,” Boleyn hissed under her breath.

“Enough, Henry.”

This was where Parr had enough. The other Queens gave a glance at their surviving counterpart, who wasn’t even looking up at him. She was staring at the floor, but for now. “Cathy, you should probably not… y’know, say anything,” Boleyn barely managed to get that sentence out, considering the crushing feeling she had inside of her chest. All that got as a response was a laugh.

“The survivor, Catherine Parr. Tell me then, my love, are you just as stubborn as you were back then?” He got every other one to crack, but little did he know that he would be the one about to shatter like glass. “Because you should’ve been the one to meet an untimely fate like your counterparts here. Of course, new body means a second chance at being able to–”

Henry stops when he sees Parr’s shoulders shake a little. She’s… laughing?

That’s why she was looking down. When she did look up, one saw her smile shining on like a light. Safe to say, Catherine Parr was about to tear someone apart. “You’ve still got quite a loud mouth for an old man. Tell me, did you ever finally learn to take care of yourself, you bobolyne? Thinking you have any right to talk to the mother of not only your damned son, but also the woman who was loyal to you for twenty four years?! And even better, the one you so graciously called your sister after your marriage? You’ve got to be kidding me right now.”

Jane felt a little insulted that she had to take a jab at Edward, but had the feeling it was necessary considering the situation. Hopefully Parr would apologize for it later on.

“Okay, okay… fair. Not bad, Parr. But why do those two get to wear shiny chokers while the rest of you have crowns? Does it further emphasize my point that Anne Boleyn’s just a hell of a tempting woman and that Katherine Howard–”

The smile from Parr’s face faded. The anger was present and everyone was mortified to see someone so quiet speaking up like she was. With vitriol in her voice, Catherine Parr officially lost her temper.

“You KNOW exactly what the fuck happened, Henry.”

Aragon felt herself go to cover Katherine’s ears as her goddaughter began to lose her composure. “You KNOW why they have to wear those. You know damn well the crimes you fucking committed against them both, especially Katherine! She was a child, Henry! A fucking child who got manipulated and used! I want to hear nothing from your mouth, you snoutband! You have nothing to defend yourself with!”

Wiping a tear or two away, Jane Seymour began to lean into Anna of Cleves for some form of comfort. Even the German was surprised to be hearing the resentment coming out of such a powerful and rather cool-tempered woman. Just as Henry went to open his mouth, he stopped.

“Oh no, no sir! You have no right to talk here! Anne Boleyn lost her head over what, your delusions that she was out and about with men when you were just going around like you weren’t married? And because of that, she has to struggle to change her name? Are you actually insane or some shit?” The northern accent Parr had was thick. She was angry, and her voice said it for her if her facial expression did not. “Jane Seymour never got to hold Edward because you took him straight away for his christening. And she had to sit there, alone, in bed! Suffering through illness until she died without saying goodbye to her baby boy!”

Boleyn goes pale. Where did this anger even come from? She had no idea, but Parr was scaring her.

“My damn godmother was near a saint with all of the bullshit she had to put up with! Twenty four fucking years, and it wasn’t Anne who ruined the marriage. It was YOU. Aragon did some insanely remarkable things despite how you treated her! And Cleves! You just decide to take Cleves and humiliate her because she wasn’t beautiful enough for you? You’re an absolute wandought, Henry! You brought a Spanish lady and a German lady out of their comfort zones all because you didn’t know how to use your damn brain!”

At this point, Aragon had managed to sneak off into the dressing room, with Cleves now being the one to hold Howard. Boleyn was now hugging Seymour, actually terrified of not just Henry, but Parr.

Henry began to go pale. He was not going to recover from this.

“Who am I missing… let’s see, Katherine Howard? No, I got her. Anne Boleyn? Also got her. Jane Seymour? Check. Anna of Cleves? Check. Catherine of Aragon? Oh, yeah, her too. Would you look at that… I’m the only one left. Surprise surprise, the fucking survivor surviving again and this time, she gets to give it to you the exact way she wants to.”

“Cathy–”

“Shut up you lot. My turn to finally talk.”

A flinch from the group. Aragon had to take glances in and out of the dressing room.

“Oh wow, Catherine Parr. The survivor. The one who draws lines in arbitrary places, blah blah! She had two other husbands, what good could have she done being a Tudor queen? I DIDN’T TAKE ANY OF YOUR BULLSHIT IS WHAT I DID. Those books that everyone rumoured a woman was writing? Surprise, you tallowcatch! It was me! I’m the famed author of Tudor history. And I published under my own name once your pitiful body finally died. That can’t be that bad, Cathy. What a sad excuse for a sob story, right?”

Katherine Howard began to tremble more than she already was in Anna of Cleves’ arms. Catherine Parr made herself stand face to face with Henry.

“Ah, right, because she survived she deserves the backing vocals. WELL GUESS WHAT, HENRY? I’M HERE TO STAY. I HAD TO GIVE UP MY LIFE, MY LOVE, AND WHATEVER ELSE I WAS DOING TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR SORRY ASS. You might have forced these women into submission but no, I am not going to submit to some sad old man. You took away their rights, you took away their children… and poor Katherine…” A laugh. “You took poor Katherine’s childhood. You turned her into a disgraced whore. She is not and will never be one. She is a victim of your bullshit.”

“Catherine, my love–”

“No excuses now, Henry. I’m through. Your love ran cold years ago. And call me love one more damn time. See what happens.”

“My love–”

The weight of the sleeves helped Parr send her fist flying into his face. He stumbled back, feeling a warm sensation drip from his nose. Blood. He… was bleeding? “You actually got the nerve to punch an English King? You’re a mad woman, Parr. I’ll have you thrown on that scaffold just how–” A second punch, and this time, there was an audible crack of sorts.

“You wear a crown, but you’re no king. You’re a disgrace to human life, Henry. And this is for all of the women you hurt, manipulated, abused… and killed,” a lunge forward. The third strike was to his jaw, and the fourth was a solid kick to the chest with her heel being the first thing to make impact. Henry, having been taken by surprise from every hit, stumbled right back into a pair of men. Shaking her fist off, some of the blood ended up getting on the floor, and part of it remained on her hands.

“I’ll be back, Catherine! Mark my damn words! Let go of me, you imbeciles!”

“Like hell you’ll be back!”

And just as she took a step forward, Aragon went to hold on to one of her arms. “Someone help me hold her back!” Aragon needed the help. Parr was under such a fit of rage she was dragging her godmother across the hallway. Seymour had to let go of Boleyn to try and hold on to Parr’s other arm. She slowed down, but still had enough adrenaline surging through her to keep going. Cleves just gave Howard a gentle kiss on the cheek before running over to help the other two ladies. No arms? No problem. She just held on to one of Parr’s legs.

Boleyn pulled her cousin into a tight hug, feeling a shaky exhale leave her body. “Kitty? Kitty, are you okay?” Just a nod. Howard was terrified to open her mouth after seeing the ungodly wrath unfold before her eyes. “I-Is… she mad at us, Annie?” Quiet and almost inaudible. The poor girl was terrified to even talk out of fear that Parr was not just angry at Henry, but at them too.

“Catherine Parr, what in God’s name has gotten into you?” Aragon furrows her eyebrows. “This is not you. What is going on? Talk to me, please.”

Anne reaches to take Kit’s hand. “She’s… upset. Not at us, I promise.” Anne had to admit, all of the ferocity coming from Parr scared her a little bit. The yelling reminded her a little of when Henry first stormed in and accused her. Of course, she would set it aside, but it was scary in the moment. She looks in Kit’s eyes, which are now full of tears, sighing and pulling her into another tight hug and rubbing her back. “It’s okay, babes… He’s gonna go away and we will be okay, I promise. The girls aren’t gonna let him get to us.” Kit just buries her face into Anne’s shoulder and lets out the remainder of what she wouldn’t let out in front of Henry. Thank goodness the men had taken him into another room until the police arrived.

Anne pulls out of the hug for a moment and then walks Kit outside. “You look absolutely knackered, love… maybe we should head home as soon as all of this is over. Do you wanna change into something else? C’mon.” They both decide to change, but do so in the staff bathroom rather than in the dressing room. On the off chance Henry was able to see into the dressing room, they didn’t want him to see anything. Anne also thought a door with a lock was the safest.

Once they finish hanging up their costumes, the two settle into the couch, and just hold each other. Anne hums a little of La Vie en Rose, and quickly, Kit falls asleep. Anne doesn’t mind. They were all done with the day, it had already put them through the ringer.

There’s an apparent veil of exhaustion amongst all of the women, except Parr.

Sure, Henry had been apprehended at this point and he was stuck with his hands cuffed behind his back, but that didn’t stop him from being inches away from Parr’s face with a very devious smile. “I’ll be back, Catherine. And you six will have to deal with me all over again. Especially Kat–”

“Like hell you are!”

Catherine Parr broke her left arm free from Catherine of Aragon’s grip, and her right arm from Jane Seymour’s. The right hand took a vice-like grip on his shirt collar before her left fist came swinging at full power, and thensome since the weight of the costume added force. That impact had a very, very nasty sound to it. Even Cleves flinched at it, soon seeing the blond man fall straight to the floor with a bloody face. “Get anywhere near us and I will have you laying your head on a prison bench just how you made poor Katherine and Anne lay down as you murdered them!”

The officers picked up the unconscious Henry, and kindly thanked Jane, Anna, and Aragon for their cooperation. Parr however, got a warning, but that was about it.

Giving it a moment, knowing they would be out of earshot at this point, Parr releases a rather annoyed grumble. “He’ll fucking pay for his crimes against all of you. I swear on my life he will rot in a prison cell for what he did. If he thinks he can just show up out of nowhere and come back here to take us for fools, he’s wrong,” she almost hissed at the end. The thickness of her accent was making Aragon concerned, since to see someone as rational as her goddaughter be in such a state was a rare experience. Cleves and Seymour both looked up with mortified faces. Ever seen revenge personified as human? No? Now you have.

And her name was Catherine Parr.

“What in heaven was that?” Maggie asks, getting up and peeking out into the hallway. A small laugh. The thud was actually loud enough to wake the cousins, and they both get up, confused a little, and sleepily walk to join her at the door frame. Anne rubs her eyes and yawns, looking at Henry, now being pulled up by two police men.

She glances to Parr, and then to Henry, and upon sight of Parr’s hands, she lets out a small, startled gasp. His blood was actually on her knuckles. Probably mixed with her own, if her knuckles had bust. Kit has a similar reaction, coupled with hiding behind Anne at the sight of the wicked man. “Cathy… let me help you get cleaned up. Mags, can you grab the first aid kit out of my backpack?”

“Let’s just go home, first.” Parr says, a little cold, while watching an officer take Henry away. She wanted to watch up until he was inside of the car, so she could ensure he was going away for good. The other officer asks her a few questions about the situation, and she tells him everything that happened, down to the fact that they would be filing a restraining order, and that Henry was not allowed to see their show again.

––––––––––

The six women had gone home after waiting… maybe an extra ten minutes after Parr finished talking to the police officer. The car was dead silent on the ride back to the house, too.

“I’m actually mad about the fact that he’s actually attractive now,” Boleyn rolls her eyes as she walks in after Seymour. “I’m kidding, obvs. But how is he alive? We’ve been free for… who knows how long now and he comes back? What did he want, anyways?” Seymour turned to face Boleyn, giving the brunette a gentle pat on the head. “It sounded like revenge, but I think Cathy has the actual answer to that. We can talk to her when she’s a lot calmer, though… she’s very…”

“Upset, angry… name it, I am probably feeling it.”

“We all are, love…” Anne goes to her, gently taking her hands, looking at them carefully. One’s very busted up, and the blood has now dried and solidified. “Let me clean you up, c’mon.” She motions to the kitchen, and the two head in there, Parr sitting on the counter while Anne gets the first aid kit out. “I’m not ashamed of what I did today.” Parr stares at the floor, expecting some sort of lecture or argument to happen, but it doesn’t.

“You protected me. That’s all I could ever want.” Anne kisses her quickly on the cheek before pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a gauze cloth. Before she starts to press it to Cathy’s knuckles, she looks the girl straight in the eyes. “Don’t be mad for how much this is going to hurt, please.”

While those two work on that, the other girls drop their bags next to the door and slump into the chairs around the kitchen table, an apparent awkwardness in the air. Jane is the first to speak, and it’s absolutely filled with regret and apology. “Ladies, I am so sorry I lost my cool today. I shouldn’t have gotten so ‘up in arms.’ He just… I never…” She’s tearing up a little, and Kit offers a hand for her to squeeze as she tries to work through her words. She takes a deep breath, brushing some of her blonde hair out of her face.

“I never got to tell him all of that. All of the resentment.”

Cathy grumbles from the counter, agreeing with her statement. “He sure got a taste of all of my resentment.” Her cheeks were reddening, and Anne doesn’t know what else to do past wrapping the girl’s knuckles, so she lays a kiss on them, hoping that will calm her down. “Shhh… no need to get worked up over that toff, not again.” Her hand goes to hold Parr’s face. “Let’s be happy, okay?”

“Jane, we all had every right to react the way we did. Even Cathy had a right to bash his ugly face in.” Kit nods reassuringly, and the other queens mumble words of agreement, Anne and Parr silently making their way over to the table. Something about Parr’s energy was off, but the queens wouldn’t question it for the time being. They were all rattled, it didn’t take much to see it.

“I just feel that as the mother of the group, I reacted rather rashly. I think–” She has to hold back some tears. “I think I should’ve composed myself.” This ends with the ladies all essentially tackling Jane with a group hug, even Parr, though not really seeming to want to participate. It was getting late, anyways, and it was almost time for her to begin her nightly writing. It would help.

Anne clears her throat. “I think you did perfectly, Jane. He’s an absolute tosser for thinking he could face all six of us at once.” Kit laughs in agreement, and the two head upstairs. Parr quickly dismisses herself, Aragon trailing quickly behind after giving Jane a tight hug.

Cleves takes Jane’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Gute Nacht, Jane. Versuche nicht zu viel darüber nachzudenken.” Jane sighs. “Still don’t speak German, love.”

“Try not to think too much about it.”

“Catherine,” Aragon knocks on the open door, furrowing her eyebrows. “Mija, what got into you today? That isn’t you. Where… where did you even go?” A sharp look from the sixth wife to the first, before it softened up. It eventually became more of a look of shame as Parr’s eyes went to the bandaged hand. She really did do a number on herself, but that blond haired Tudor nightmare deserved it. She wasn’t wrong, was she? Or, had her morality become such an ambiguous grey area that maybe it was wrong for her to have sucker punched the man who beheaded Katherine Howard so unfairly.

The shameful eyes look up, seeing Aragon’s concern despite the slight scowl. “I’m sorry, Lina. I… no se. Yo lo vi y... Me congelé. Es como si todo el sentido racional dejara mi cuerpo y me quedara con impulso. Lo juro, no... siempre así. Tu lo sabes! Aunque asusté a todos, no?” The hurt in her voice was evident. Parr knew she became the morally ambiguous of the group, which was normally not the good thing. Aragon’s expression lightened up just a little as she approached her goddaughter, and pulled her into a side hug. “Sucede, amor. Pero no te enfades tanto con alguien tan horrible. Seguimos amándote, y siempre nos preocuparemos por ti. Ninguna de nosotras te tiene miedo, y eso te lo prometo.”

Those last words gave Catherine Parr just a little bit of hope. Catherine of Aragon gave one last hug to the woman before heading on out the door, but not without “Don’t stay up late.” being the last thing she said to the sixth wife.

Kit and Anne stand in the hallway, chatting before going to their rooms, which were across from each other. “Lock your window, Annie, please.” It’s evident that Kit is still very worried about Henry figuring out where they live or figuring out how to get in. Anne nods, despite the fact that they lived on the second floor.. “Of course.” The girls hug and in a matter of seconds, they are both behind their respective closed doors.

Kit leans against the door for a moment after closing it, but not locking it, and a few silent tears fall before she starts to change into her pajamas. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” She mumbles to herself, turning on her string lights and turning off the main light of the room. She debates what kind of music to listen to, mulling over it for a few minutes before turning on some classical. It was different, but it would work.

Anne, on the other hand, immediately goes to lock her window and pull the shades closed, which was slightly saddening because she did enjoy looking at the night sky before she fell asleep. She sits on the edge of her bed for a moment, deep in thought about Cathy. She had to admit, the girl she saw today was one she had never seen before, and one she was pretty afraid of seeing again. That fire, while endearing… shook Anne a little. She has to force herself to shake off the thought that anger immediately translates to a person being anything remotely similar to Henry.

“Right, then… bed it is.” Anne shuts off her lights and lays down, picturing that starry sky in her own mind. It would do.

Jane settles in with the current book she was reading, a copy of Pride and Prejudice. A story of true love, one could say, and the text was actually helping to calm the blonde down about the events of the day. Aragon peeks in for a moment, and Jane gives her a soft smile, an unspoken agreement that they would be okay.

Though it seemed as if everyone was settling down, Catherine Parr had a storm bigger than a hurricane brewing inside.

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Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Catherine Parr let that be the only sound to fill the silence. Normally, it would be music or something, but not tonight.

The calligraphy pen in her hands danced around her fingers, barely having touched the pages of the open notebook. Her vision was still blurred, much to her own surprise. Wrath was a powerful thing, and to have something take over the body for an amount of time would lead to consequences later in the night. In her case, it was a very horrid case of insomnia. While she dealt with insomnia most nights, she had the slightest feeling this was not the typical time to go to bed at 2 in the morning case. The pen began to slow down in her hand, and she held it still for the first time that whole night.

“It’s not the first time you write about how you feel, Cathy. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.”

It was not fine.

No matter how many times she told herself it would be fine, she could never believe it. Catherine Parr saw her hand shake, just the slightest, every time she wrote. Every memory from the last few hours was hazy, but simultaneously at the forefront of her mind. The usually clean lines of her penmanship were just the bit off from the feelings. Word after word, the anger began to flow onto the pages like water flowing down a river’s stream. So shaky, and so violent were the movements of Parr’s wrist. In comparison to the surprisingly smooth transition from thought to thought, her actions made her look a little crazed. One could even say she looked oddly desperate to finish writing.

Almost as if she was running out of time.

She was a writer in her past life. An author, really. The woman wrote books, psalms, meditations… name it, she probably has a manuscript of it somewhere. But this? This was not her. This frantic drive to write and write until the pages could take no more and the ink began to go through them was not Catherine Parr. In a way, it was almost symbolic. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

There it was again. The ticking of the clock.

Time was no longer a relevant thing for Parr. She just let the time go on.

Last she could remember, it was midnight. But nay, the clock spoke otherwise. A glance at it revealed it to be four in the morning. Her hand and wrist were cramped up, and the tears that she felt falling were drying on her face. The pages had become full of nonsensical phrases, mostly a result of the anger still in her system. But that anger began to fade from anger into a depression.

Why couldn’t she be stronger?

Why didn’t she do enough at the moment?

The pain finally struck her heart. Silence began to be her worst enemy, and something she thought she’d never do is what she did. Parr slams her hands on the desk, crying out, almost as if it were a scream or cry for help. The scream was enough to wake up Catherine of Aragon in an instant. A second and third one woke Jane Seymour and Anna of Cleves up. The fourth one got to Anne Boleyn. In a worried hurry, Aragon got out of bed and ran down the stairs to get to the door before almost ramming it down with her own body.

“Cathy? Mija, what’s the–… Cathy?”

What she saw was a torn woman in front of her. Her bandaged hand had a little blood seeping through the ends. Some of the curls were sticking to her face, and her eyes were all puffy and red. Aragon gently pulled Parr up and into a tight embrace. “Escúchame. Todo está bien, Cathy. Estamos en la casa.” Normally, Aragon had a commanding nature that gave off the feeling of someone being safeguarded behind a wall, but this was one of those moments she was willing to let her wall down. Parr’s grip tightened, with the tears coming back and rushing in like an ocean’s grey waves.

Catherine learned just a smidge of Spanish for her godmother. Enough to get by with a conversation or two, but she was not fluent in any way. “Duele, Lina,” a sniffle. “Todo esto duele y no hice lo suficiente para ayudar.” And there was something about her goddaughter using Spanish in such a defeated manner that made Aragon crack a little on the inside. Her own eyes were welling up with tears as she looked to the door.

Seymour, Cleves, and Boleyn.

All three of them with wide eyes and fairly concerned expressions. But it was Anne who saw the tears forming in Aragon’s eyes and threatening to spill. The two lock eyes and it takes everything in Anne to not crack too. She gives Aragon a look that says, ‘Let me try.’ Lina nods and gives Cathy’s hand a small squeeze, and Anne goes and kneels on the floor in front of her.

The other three stand in the hallway, knowing it was probably best to give the two a moment. “Did that not wake Kitty?” Cleves pauses, and then points in the general direction of Howard’s room, loud classical music streaming through her closed door.

Anne takes Parr’s hands. “Cathy, please talk to me… please, love.” It takes Parr a moment to look into Boleyn’s eyes, which are also filled with tears at this point. “It kills me to see you hurting.” A hand goes to wipe some tears from Parr’s cheeks. It lingers there, cupping her cheek, Anne’s thumb reflexively going back and forth to wipe more tears as they fall.

“It kills me to see you hurting.” Her statement is coupled with a small voice crack, and not one that you would usually find endearing. This was out of pure sadness and anger. She sighs. “I should’ve done more.” She looks at the floor, past Boleyn, though her head is now resting on the girl’s hand.

“He’s the one that deserves to be on a scaffold!” She starts to sob again, leaning forward, and Anne catches her, in a sense. Shaking with anger, she lets it out, nearly soaking Anne’s shirt in a matter of seconds. “He deserves to die! Why is he here?” Her breathing becomes slightly erratic, heaving breaths joining in with shallow sobs.

The three in the hallway silently elect to let the two work through it. It really seemed as if Anne was the only one who was going to be able to get her to calm down, even if only a fraction. Aragon lingers for a moment, and then decides finally to go back to her room, leaving the door open in case anyone needed anything. Jane does the same, but reads for a few minutes before going back to sleep.

Anne isn’t sure what to do, so she stands both of them up, having to support Parr a little, and just holds her, swaying back and forth slowly. “Shh… babe… he doesn’t deserve your tears…” Anne, you preach this, yet you’re a mess too. Albeit, a mess because Cathy is crying, but a mess nonetheless. “He… he’s getting his karma. He has to watch us thrive. And he can’t do a damned thing to us. We’re untouchable.” She was also telling herself this.

Parr nods quietly, latching on to Anne even more, as if letting her go would mean she’d disappear into thin air. Though she hadn’t actually said it, she knew she loved Anne. More than anything, and if punching Henry in the face was what she had to do to protect her, she’d do it every day for the rest of her life.

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” She speaks softly, voice scratchy as a result of the outburst. It was nearing five o’clock at this point, but it didn’t matter. With no hesitation, Anne replies with a simple “Of course,” pulling away slightly to look Parr in the eyes. Those tired, red eyes, still wet with tears formed over a man who didn’t matter one bit. Not in this moment, he didn’t.

The two make their way to Boleyn’s room, a twin bed being the only place for them, but it would be plenty of space. Anne lays down first, patting the small space next to her for Parr to join. It’s almost as if they’re out as soon as they cover up.

Kit sleeps through all of this. Perhaps it’s the music blaring from her speakers, or the exhaustion from the events of the day, but it’s the first night the girl doesn’t wake up screaming. The other queens are really surprised to see her downstairs in the morning, looking well rested and pouring herself a cup of tea, seemingly fine. “G’morning.” She yawns, and the others just kind of look at each other as if reality has shifted. “Where are Cathy and Annie?”

“In bed, still.”

“Ja.”

“I should check on them.” Kit says, setting her tea down. Cleves joins her, cringing a little when Kit knocks awfully loudly on the door and pushes it open. “Halt die Klappe, Kit…” Kit turns and looks at her, a puzzled look on her face. Cleves rolls her eyes jokingly, and then whispers again. “You’re too loud.”

The sight upon opening the door is a combination of comedic and sweet. Parr is absolutely sprawled out on top of Anne, snoring loudly and taking up most of the bed. One of her hands is on Anne’s cheek, as if she had fallen asleep holding the girl’s face. Anne is awake, quietly scrolling through TikTok with headphones in. She looks at the two in the doorframe and smiles, looking down at Parr. ‘We’re okay.’ She mouths, and Jane and Aragon peek in, a small laugh coming from the Spanish queen. It warmed her heart to see the two all bundled up and Parr seemingly at peace, even if only for a moment.

Parr makes a small noise and shifts, essentially pulling Anne closer and wrapping a leg around her. The ladies all smile, electing to leave the two alone. It was evident that everything would be okay, at least for now. Anne kisses Cathy on the forehead, letting out a happy sigh. Parr subconsciously replies with a small snore, and the two stay there, safe in each other's arms, for most of the day.

A couple hours seem to pass and it’s about… noon, when Parr starts stirring. Anne notices this, and begins to smile. At least she was waking up. However, things were not going to go to plan, because in comparison to Anne, Catherine was a whole lot taller, and took up just a bit more space. Thinking for a moment she was still in her room, Parr went to try and roll to the other side of the bed, but immediately woke up at not having anything underneath her. A loud enough thudding noise got everyone’s attention.

The other four queens almost immediately ran to the doorframe, and Anne was sitting up.

In typical Boleyn fashion, she was laughing.

Parr on the other hand, was not very happy. “Ow…” Looking up, she just sees the green queen essentially laying back down because of the laughter, and a glance to the doorway reveals four others holding back laughter. “Oh haha, funny that Cathy Parr fell off a bed now is it?”

Through the laughter, Boleyn responds.

“It’s marvelous, love!”

#tw: blood #tw: violence #six #six musical #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #catalina de aragon #anna of cleves #anne boleyn #katherine howard #kitty howard #The Beheaded Cousins Write #sixfic #six fanfiction #parrlyn #aramour

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randomguywithwords · 4 years

Text

Catharsis (Awase Yosetsu X Momo Yaoyorozu Short Story)

I stumbled onto some post talking about these two and their shared trauma, so I made this in response. Kinda forgot who it was but credit goes to him/her for the idea.

–––

Awase Yosetsu sometimes wondered whether he was alone. Not literally, obviously: he had friends, family, and a school he felt he belonged to. More so, alone in his mind. Were his life experiences, and the way he reacted to them, unique? Has no one else suffered the same trauma he had?

Logic dictated that the answer was a clear no. The Kamino Incident, more than a week ago, had been far more tragic than what he had went through. Hundreds of civillians, unaware of a police raid just a few kilometers down the road, had their lives taken away in a mere instant. He had been horrified to find out about that.

Still, as he lay awake at night staring at the ceiling of his dormitory, something he found doing more and more since the camp, he thought, Is it selfish of me to think that...that...was worse?

He suppressed a shudder. Don’t think about it, he warned himself, forcing his mind away and to lighter subjects, like lunch today, where Monoma was karate-chopped by Kendo again, and everyone started laughing...

The whirring of the chainsaw grew louder; the wail of that abomination pierced his ears. He was getting slower. They were getting ––

“Stop!” He slapped himself, curling up underneath his blanket. He still could not forget it, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe I should schedule an appointment with Hound Dog...

No, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t...proper, for him to go for counselling. The school had offered it immediately after the disaster that was the camp, and he had taken one just to placate them. He went through the motions, nodding, talking a bit, smiling while he could. Perhaps the adrenaline somehow still kicked in, days after it. He might have still been in a shock then. But now...

The memories started to come back now to haunt him, to make him lose sleep, to make him unsettled. And it worked.

So was he alone in this, or were the others equally affected? Worse? Less?

Granted, the mood in the school was dim for the first few days, but the majority of the cohort seemed to return to their normalcy by the first week. But he...he could not.

His thoughts drifted towards Yaoyorozu. Even though she had received the injury from that monster, she seemed to be faring better than him. From the few times they passed each other in the hallway, or at the canteen, she looked as chirpy as ever. She smiled at everyone, laughed at her friends’ jokes, and seemed totally unaffected by the incident. He presumed her studies had not taken a hit whatsoever. Still the top scorer of the cohort.

Great, guess I’ll be late again tomorrow, he sighed inwardly as he glanced at his watch, informing him that it was half past eleven.

He sat up and sunk his face into his hands. Maybe I should take a walk.

Grabbing his shoes and track pants, he found himself at the ground floor of his dorms. Thanking the reasonable dorm rules that allowed for late-night jogs, he stepped out of the building.

As he shut the door behind him, he turned around, and his face blanched.

Yaoyorozu’s face stared back at him. She was in a running outfit as well. Her surprised disposition transformed into a smile. She waved, and Awase meekly waved back.

Figuring that she was probably waiting for him, he quickened his pace to meet her in the middle of the road.

“Yaoyorozu-san, hi. Didn’t expect to see you.” He mustered a smile.

“Same here, Yosetsu-san. I jog every night, so it’s the first time I’ve seen you this late. Are you jogging as well?”

“Uh no, just taking a walk.”

“Sure! I’m fine with that too.”

Awase frantically waved his hands. “Oh, you really don’t have to...”

Her lips widened into a smile like the crescent moon above them. “No, but it’s fun to have someone to talk to. I’d prefer this than jogging alone.”

Was she always this friendly and bubbly to everyone? Awase was astounded by her amiability. But he gave an affirming nod, and the two set off down the lane.

They first chatted about schoolwork and friends, about the antics of the guys, which Yaoyorozu laughed at, charmingly. But Awase knew that the conversation would somehow lead to their near-death experience. To his surprise, it was Yaoyorozu who initiated it.

“How are you holding up?” She asked. “After the camp, I mean.”

Awase looked at the asphalt. “Good, I guess,” He replied evasively. “You?”

“Same, doing great.” Awase looked at her beaming expression, and his heart plummeted. She looks totally okay.

“Well,” she continued, “as great as I can be, since, y’know...” Her voice softened to a mouse’s squeak. “We were both there.”

The thought of the monster loomed over both of them, silencing the conversation for a moment. He glanced at her again. Her smile seemed less curved now, almost as if she was scared.

Of course she’s scared, idiot. She nearly died too, Awase scolded himself.

“I...can’t sleep. It’s been difficult to,” He confessed towards the pavement.

Yaoyorozu didn’t reply, and Awase was beginning to wonder if he had said it too softly when she said, “You too? That’s good.”

Awase looked at her, and her face reddened, though with the faint lamplight it was hard to see. “I mean, I don’t mean it that way! Just –”

“I know, Yaoyorozu-san, don’t worry.” He chuckled, and she relaxed. Continuing, “I’m glad too. You looked...you looked really well in school.”

“Well, so did you. You looked quite happy with your friends, I thought you had gotten over it,” She said.

Me? Was there another Awase walking around? She really thought I was coping well?

“I – I’m surprised you thought that way,” He managed. “It’s been a horrible few weeks. I thought it might have showed.”

She shook her head adamantly. “Have you visited Hound Dog-sensei, Yosetsu-san?” She asked with evident concern.

“Just once.”

Yaoyorozu frowned. “That’s not enough. I had to go at least thrice. Why don’t you?”

“Because...” Awase trailed off. How do you explain this to a girl?

He doubted the intelligence of Momo Yaoyorozu, because she read his mind. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Bakugo-san went for a session too, you know.”

His jaw dropped. “Bakugo? But how...?”

She nodded. “We’re good friends, so please don’t tell anyone else. I only did so because there’s nothing wrong with a guy going for counselling, okay? As heroes, we’re bound to experience such things. Ah, sorry if I sound naggy!”

“No, it’s okay. I...I needed to hear that. Thank you, Yaoyorozu-san.”

“No problem.”

They enjoyed a comfortable silence on the walk back. When they saw their dormitories close by, Yaoyorozu said, “Yosetsu-san? Can I give you my number?”

“Huh?” The question made him blink at her.

“I’d like someone to talk to, if I want to. I know my classmates went through trauma of their own, but nothing really could compare to what we faced...I feel that they wouldn’t understand fully.”

Awase nods slowly. “Sure.”

Some tapping on a screen later, and the two depart with a goodbye and a smile. Awase clambers onto his bed, and although the nightmarish thoughts don’t disappear as one would expect in a fantasy, he does sleep a little more sounder. That’s fine by him.

I had more to talk about for these two, but as two schoolmates who just shared a near-death experience, opening their innermost thoughts on that basis with no prior meetings seems a bit rushed. Hope you liked it, and if anyone knows the person who started this, lemme know and I’ll credit them.

P.S: Oh wait this ship is popular enough to be an autofilled tag? Well, I’ll be damned. I doubted you again, BNHA fandom.

P.P.S wtf there’s a kodai x yaoyorozu? I thought I was the only madlad that wrote a fanfic on that. That’s 3 for fandom, 0 for me. Brb gonna AO3 this. If anyone has good fics on that niche ship, pls tell me. I’ll be very grateful

Update on kodai x yaoyorozu. I was swindled. There’s like one post apparently, even though I freaking tagged the fic I wrote on them, and it didn’t show up. So now I’m wondering how many jewels of posts are just concealed because of Tumblr’s shitty search engine.

#awase x momo #momo yaoyorozu #bnha awase #yosetsu awase #momo x awase #bnha momo #bnha yaoyorozu #yaomomo #bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfic #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha shipfic

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty Three

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

After catching Remus up on what happened after dinner, Roman sat on his bed, staring at a blank paper, pen in hand. He sighed, typing on his phone. honestly re, i don’t know if i can do this. writing vows seems like an impossible task

Roman’s phone pinged almost immediately. you’ve got this down, roman, i know you do. have you tried being HONEST for once?

ew. no. not an option Roman said with certainty.

why not?

Roman turned red and was thankful Remus wasn’t in the room. He would instantly know that Roman was crushing. Instead, he took advantage of only being able to text. because saying that someone is “just okay” or “better than my parents” generally doesn’t come across as good vows

okay, okay, you got me there Remus allowed. what DO you like about him? what would you want to say to him were you actually in love with him?

thank you? i guess?

why?

because...he’s an escape. he’s sweet, and he cares about what i think. he makes sure that i matter

you better be writing those things down, ro, because that’s prime vows material Remus replied.

Roman scribbled it down dutifully and sighed. it still doesn’t feel like enough

it never does, from what i understand. you’ll figure it out. i know you will. you always were the smart one

still am, you idiot Roman replied with a smile and a winking emoji.

that’s the spirit! Remus took his time typing out his next text. do you want to string together some sentences for me? allow me to nitpick and beta-read your vows?

do i have much of a choice? you’ll nitpick them after the wedding given half the chance if i don’t let you do it now Roman sighed, rubbing his forehead. i’ll give it a shot, gimme a few

A quick confirmation from Remus and Roman was left staring at the paper on the bed, and the phone in his hands. With fingers trembling, he double-checked he and Remus weren’t in the group chat, and started to type.

Damien, I would be lying if I claimed to know exactly what to say to you. Despite all the words I have learned throughout my life, none of them seem to describe just how much I love you. You’re my escape from unpleasantries, with your ability to make me laugh. You ask my opinions, and my state of mind, and you listen attentively when I answer. You don’t care about all the things I hate about myself, dare I say you think they make me all the better, and I cannot fathom how that’s possible. Damien, you truly give me a chance to see myself in a new light, in YOUR light, and allow me to feel confident, if only for a moment. You never fail to make me smile, and see the silver lining in the clouds. I don’t believe in other halves, but I do believe in matching pairs, and honestly, Damien...you’re my match. It was hard to see at first—I know we got off to a rocky start—but I truly believe we’ll be in this together for the long haul. We’ll make it work. I love you, Damien, and I hope that we can be together ‘til death do us part, and beyond.

Roman got no response for a solid two minutes after he sent that experimental text. Just as Roman was about to poke Remus, he got a one-word response: wow

good wow? Roman asked, nibbling his lip.

roman, if you use that in the actual wedding, there won’t be a dry eye in the house. i guarantee it. and i’m sure fh will love it Remus replied. and when i say there won’t be a dry eye, i mean it. I’M tearing up at that. i wish someone would love ME that much. maybe more platonic-leaning, but...

Roman laughed. you’ll find someone, re. in fact, there’s a guy here named logan who is VERY interested in meeting you. damien and i agreed that the two of you would hit it off

he know I’m demiro? Remus asked.

not yet, that’s your story to tell. but he speaks out for the benefits of polyamory, and he doesn’t take crap from me OR damien. you’d def like him, even if you don’t LIKE him like him

Remus responded with a simple interesting and Roman rolled his eyes.

i told him not to tell you gorey facts so you don’t think he’s flirting, you’re safe

how very dare you! i’m in desperate need of gorey facts for a new fic i’m writing!

you’re terrible Roman scoffed. i’ll let him know, if you want me to

no, no, this could prove to be a fun challenge. see how long it takes for him to break >:) Remus’ evil laugh was almost audible.

don’t break him, he grades damien’s papers Roman paused, considered, and added, scratch that. damien might thank you for breaking him. that could get you in his good graces. do it

do i NEED to be in good graces with fh? Remus asked.

for my peace of mind, yes Roman replied.

but that’s no FUN! Remus shot back.

Roman snorted. tough. suck it up anyway

Remus’ grumbling was obvious by the way he didn’t reply. Roman laid back on his bed and sighed. He was tired, true, but he wasn’t sure he should be going to sleep quite this early, because he’d probably wake up in the middle of the night were that the case.

His mind kept on whirring with thoughts of the vows and the wedding, but when he opened his eyes next and checked the clock, six hours had gone by and it was past two in the morning. “Oh, damn it,” Roman muttered.

He checked his phone and saw that Remus hadn’t texted him in that time. Roman stood and changed into pyjamas, before padding outside his room. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to move around. He needed to do something besides stare at the ceiling as he tried to fall back asleep. He knew that sooner or later he would have to return to bed, but right now, he felt awake enough that one little walk would hardly wipe him out.

The castle was different at night. The hallway lights were already out, the only light coming in through the windows from the stars and the moon. Roman could vaguely hear talking coming from somewhere, no doubt the guards doing their rounds.

He walked to the library, not knowing where else to go, and as he walked in, he saw a stray light on, a sleeping figure against the table, back rising and falling slowly, soft curls falling around the figure’s face, and Roman swallowed. Damien. Damien always had his hair slicked back somehow, Roman didn’t realize that it might be that curly when left alone. And it was decidedly adorable. Roman took a breath and moved forward. No matter what he thought, Damien would probably appreciate falling asleep in an actual bed rather than in the library. “Damien?” Roman asked in a hushed whisper. He took another step and reached out. “Damien.”

Damien bolted upright as Roman’s fingers brushed against his shoulder. He blinked owlishly up at Roman. “Oh. Hello my dear. What are you doing up?”

“I accidentally fell asleep too early,” Roman said. “How late did you stay up?”

Damien checked his phone. “I was only asleep for an hour,” he said, scrubbing his face. “I came in here to work on the vows, because I always focus better in the library. But the words...refused to fall into place. I texted your brother, and he said that he had seen your vows and that I would enjoy them, but...aside from him talking about little things about you I didn’t know before, I didn’t get much done.”

“Are you sure?” Roman asked, eyeing the papers that Damien had been sleeping on. “You have quite a bit written.”

“Nothing concrete that I really like,” Damien grumbled. He took a breath, and looked away. “I’m sorry, my dear. I wanted to at least give you a good wedding, if we had to be married to each other by force for the rest of our lives, but I can’t even get the vows right.”

“Hey, Damien,” Roman said softly, tilting Damien’s head over so they were looking at each other. “I don’t care about the vows. I don’t care about the music, or the dancing, or the guests, or anything else about the wedding. As long as I’m with you, this whole thing will be bearable. I promise. Just...be yourself. I promise, that’s the best thing you can be.”

“You...promise?” Damien asked, and his voice sounded so broken and small, Roman didn’t know how to respond for a minute.

“I promise, Damien,” Roman said with a smile. “We don’t have to be in love with each other to enjoy the wedding. We can have fun talking about our relatives, and dance to our hearts’ content, and you get to meet my brother. It’ll be fun, no matter what you do or don’t say for the vows, all right?”

“But...but you deserve more,” Damien said. “God, you deserve more than me, Roman. You deserve someone who knows what to say for a stupid wedding. You deserve someone who you truly love. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m not,” Roman whispered, smiling sadly. “I’m very happy I’m stuck with you.”

Damien blinked, and tears fell down his cheeks. “You’re too kind,” he breathed. “You get carted off, forced to be married to a man you’ve barely met, and you could have done anything else. You could have fought, you could have wanted nothing to do with me and told me as much, you could have run away in the middle of the night or you could have made plans to leave me at the altar. And yet...you treated me with kindness, and you still do. You’re so, so impossibly kind, and I love that about you and I can’t—” Damien took a breath. “I can’t even admit to myself how important you are to me.”

“Damien, it’s okay,” Roman said, sitting down on the table. “Something tells me you’re just very tired. If you sleep now you can probably think better in the morning, you can come up with the vows then.”

“I have—I have vows. Now. I wrote from my heart like Mother suggested and I came up with something. I just...I don’t want you to see, I don’t like them,” Damien rambled. “I don’t want you to see how desperate I am for positive attention, how much I can act like a lovesick puppy. I...” Damien swallowed. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? You’re just a hallucination. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I should...go to bed. Because I don’t remember walking there. I couldn’t have gone to bed, I must have actually fallen asleep in the library.”

“Damien, this isn’t a dream,” Roman said. “You’re tired, sure, but I’m awake and so are you.”

“Oh,” Damien said softly. He cleared his throat, sat up straight, and gathered up his papers. “Either way, I should go to bed and so should you, my dear.”

Roman blinked at the sudden change in Damien’s demeanor. “Damien,” Roman said, putting his hand over one of Damien’s. “What’s wrong?”

Damien stood sharply, retrieving his hand. “It doesn’t matter, I’m just tired,” he said with an unconvincing smile. “I just need to go to bed, I think.”

“Okay,” Roman said reluctantly. “But if you need to talk, you know where to find me, all right?”

“All right. Good night, my love,” Damien said, kissing Roman’s forehead and leaving the room in one swift moment.

Roman watched him go in shock. Had he just said...? He had. He had called Roman “my love” instead of his usual “my dear.” He must be sleep deprived, Roman thought. That was the only explanation that made sense. Damien had been convinced he was dreaming. There was no way that he actually meant that.

Just like there’s no way you’re in love with him? a niggling voice in the back of his head nagged at him. Face it, honey, you’re smitten, and he likes you too.

“That can’t be true,” Roman muttered to himself. “What could a guy like Damien possibly see in me?”

He hated to say that, because everyone around him would respond with something along the lines of, “Where do I begin?” but when he was all alone, he felt safe enough to release the question into the air.

But driving himself mad over this would get him nowhere. Without thinking, his legs moved forward through the library, back out into the hallway, where Damien’s figure was retreating. “Damien,” Roman called softly.

Damien paused and halfway turned, and Roman jogged up to him. A thousand questions were bubbling up in his throat, but he couldn’t get any of them out. Instead, he said, “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

“Oh,” Damien said simply. “If you let me return the vows to my room we can find somewhere to sit and talk until you feel better?”

Roman smiled and nodded. “That would be nice,” he simply said.

“Follow me,” Damien said.

They walked together to Damien’s room, but Roman didn’t enter after Damien went in, sensing that he might not be that welcome in Damien’s space yet. Damien yawned as he exited the room and Roman felt a little bad. “If you want to sleep, you can. I’m sure I can find someone else to keep me company,” Roman said.

“Nonsense, my love, I can stay with you for at least another hour before I become too tired to function tomorrow morning,” Damien waved off.

“Why do you do that?” Roman asked as Damien started walking.

“Do what?” Damien asked.

“You called me ‘my love’ twice in the span of ten minutes,” Roman said.

Damien frowned. “I did?”

“You did,” Roman confirmed. “Usually you call me ‘my dear’ rather than ‘my love.’ I’m just a little confused.”

“Oh,” Damien said softly. “I just...I mean, I assumed we were close enough, I guess...my mind skipped to ‘my love’ because I’m tired and I consider us good friends.”

Roman’s heart sank without warning. “You call your friends ‘my love’?” he asked skeptically.

“I call my friends pet names, yes,” Damien said. “Admittedly, ‘my love’ is a new one, but I’m very tired. If you don’t like it, I can stop...”

“No!” Roman said, just a hair too quickly. “No, I like it. I was just confused.”

Damien nodded and sat down on a flight of steps, and Roman joined him. “I am sorry if I’ve caused you any discomfort while you were here,” Damien said. “I want only the best for you, Roman.That includes me being the best man I can be.”

Roman stroked Damien’s cheek. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he said to Damien with a soft smile.

“You’re too kind, my dear,” Damien said, leaning into the touch just enough for Roman to feel it.

“I would argue that would be you, but okay,” Roman said with a small laugh.

Damien smiled, leaning against the wall. “God, I’m exhausted,” he breathed.

“Same,” Roman yawned. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Not just yet,” Damien said. “Right now, I just want to spend some time with you.”

“All right,” Roman said.

They lapsed into silence. Roman rested his head on Damien’s shoulder, enjoying the sensation of another warm body against his own. Damien’s breathing was steady, syncing up to Roman’s. Roman took a deep breath and sighed, and subtly nuzzled into Damien’s side. Damien didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders. The sound of guards walking through the castle below them lulled Roman into a light sleep, eyes slipping closed without him telling them to do so.

When he woke up next, it was to the sound of snickering above him. “Oh, this is priceless,” a familiar voice murmured.

Roman stirred and blinked awake. “Mm. Virgil?”

“Good morning, Your Highness. Came up here for my morning rounds only to find out that you and Damien have been secretly cuddling for hours.”

Roman sat up, noticing he had somehow moved from Damien’s shoulder to his chest while he was asleep. Damien’s eyes fluttered beneath his eyelids and he groaned. “Wha’s happened?” he slurred.

“How long have you two been here?” Virgil asked.

“What time is it?” Roman asked.

“Four forty five, just about,” Virgil said.

“Then about two and a half to three hours,” Roman replied, standing up. “Oh, my back is gonna kill me.”

Damien swayed to his feet. “I’m going to bed for a few more hours,” he said definitively. “Good night, my love.”

“Night, Damien,” Roman said, allowing Damien to kiss his temple before he left.

Virgil was smirking at Roman, and Roman rolled his eyes. “No, you did not miss a love confession, Virgil. I just got upgraded to ‘close friend’ in Damien’s books, apparently.”

“Very close friend, if he kisses your temple and calls you his love,” Virgil snickered.

“Shut up and leave me alone if you’re just going to tease me,” Roman said. “Unless there’s some pressing matter or another, I’m going back to bed too.”

“Oh, yeah, go get your sleep,” Virgil said. “You’re gonna have to talk to the justice of the peace this morning.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Roman groaned, waving to Virgil as he walked down the hall.

Roman stumbled to his room and face planted into the bed, falling asleep quickly, thoughts of cuddling Damien swirling in his head and putting a sleepy smile on his face.

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