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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Moonlight On The Sand

Summary: Stationed to the desert for a short mission, you are on terrain inspection when the full moon emerges from behind the clouds. However little do you know there’s something about the Captain accompanying you that may change things forever. Based on this ask from @fairndsquare

Pairing; Captain Syverson x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned) Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle (Movie) Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Werewolves, Werewolf!Sy, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Ovulation, Breeding, Outdoor Sex/Car Sex. This is NOT an ABO story.

I do not run a tag list, but please go follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post a new story. Masterlist got too big for Tumblr, so past works can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites or on my AO3

Only the finest, free range, organic typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Sy fumed silently as he drove the truck through the abandoned desert. He was furious that he had been overruled, but the general had finally done a site visit and his word was final; Sy had to show the new logistics planner the area, and there was no avoiding it.

What the General didn’t know was what Sy had been through during his posting in the dry and barren landscape. That mythical creatures didn’t always originate from leafy green valleys, or snow capped mountains, sometimes they dwelled in dry arid plains and rocky outcrops.

The truck hit a particularly proud rock on the dirt track and leapt into the air, your hands flying as you grasped for something to steady yourself on, one on the dash and one on the particularly meaty thigh of your commanding officer.

“Sorry” the gruff man uttered through gritted teeth.

“S’okay… the moon’ll be up soon and we’ll be able to see better as its full tonight” you casually replied, looking out over the desert surrounding you, surprised as the truck slowed down a little.

“The moon?”

“Yes, you know the big round rock orbiting the earth?”

“I know what the moon is darlin’, been cloudy the last ten days so hadn’t been keeping track…” he muttered to himself.

You used the small penstick flashlight to glance over the map;

“I need to see this valley, and get an idea of what it’ll be like to bring the trailers in with water tanks on”

The Captain glanced where you were pointing and nodded once, letting the truck veer to the right to follow the camel route up through the hills.

As the truck gained elevation Sy could feel his mouth watering. He could not only smell you, he could sense how you had grown wet in his presence. It was like a sickly sweet coating of pollen at the back of his throat on a spring day back home. Halfway through the day he’d been in a conference call as you stood in the corner of the room, observing as he updated his superiors back in Washington, when he’d picked up another sense, the only way to describe it was as if something had suddenly ripened in the room. It’d taken him until the end of the call to realise it was you and your body had just reached its most fertile point in the month. You were ripe and ready, you just didn’t know it.

That single thought had plagued Sy for the rest of the day, something in the pit of his belly was just telling him to flee, to get as far away from you as possible… for your safety. But then his military training had kicked in and he’d followed orders, and that’s how he found himself pulling the truck onto a rocky pullout on the curved track as it skirted around the hill, the view over the valley spectacular as the moon finally emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the earth below.

Stepping out of the truck you used your night vision goggles to scan over the plateau in front of you, looking out over the wide vista. You felt the heat of his body first, standing behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You knew what he was wanting.

24 hours earlier.

Scrolling your phone you checked the calendar, relieved that the mission to the desert would be there and back in the space of two weeks, back in time before your monthly bleed would start again. If there’s one thing you didn’t want to have to deal with, it would be tampons and sand. It would mean you’d be ovulating whilst there, but you had enough sugary snacks packed to keep the hormones subdued, and this wasn’t your first time being overseas, although normally you were confined to a small base north of Washington DC.

The flight had been long and bumpy, little more than a glorified cargo hold, so by the time you arrived at the compound and finally got to meet the infamous Captain Syverson, you were tingling with anticipation for what the next two weeks would involve.

When he finally spoke, it was low and deep, resonating through your spine;

“You need to get in that truck, and drive it far from here…”

You went to turn but his hand caught your arm, keeping you looking out over the valley;

“Captain?”

“Private, do as i tell you… there are things in these hills, that you don’t know of and don’t need to know of…”

It was then that you sensed it: the connection. It was like a spark shot up your spine, and in a moment of foolhardy courage you turned, the air being sucked from your lungs when you saw him. The Captain stood before you, his eyes burning into your soul, the ring of fire in his irises and his canine teeth just a little more prominent. Your chest heaved with a shaky breath, and his nostrils flared;

“Private…” he warned one last time.

But rather than running in the opposite direction, you slowly took a step forward, holding your hand to his cheek and for a moment your touch soothed him. You took in how his hair had grown longer, his shoulders even broader, he was virile and potent. That’s when he felt it, his senses clouded as the moon took hold, but finally he realised; you weren’t afraid.

His body slammed yours against the side of the truck, his lips on yours as his tongue pushed into your mouth; tasting you, devouring you. Your hands clung to the sides of his weather beaten uniform, pulling him ever closer so you could feel every inch of his body pressing against yours until suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was lifting you onto the still warm hood of the truck. With expert skill he had quickly shed you of your cargo pants and sensible undergarments, his face between your thighs and you watched with fascination as he inhaled deeply, humming as your scent hit his brain before he dived in.

His tongue was everywhere; licking and tasting you, running firm circles over your clit before descending and pushing the thick muscle into your velvet channel, his sharp teeth pressed against your soaked folds as he tasted you from within. When you came you screamed into the night sky, your legs shaking as the feral beast between your thighs growled in satisfaction, his eyes glowing.

He pulled you from the hood and carried you to the rear of the vehicle, opening the tailgate before sitting you on the edge as he made quick work of his cargo pants, his thigh holster holding them up as his thick cock unfurled from the worn in cotton. You swallowed nervously; you were far from a virgin but the thought of the thick gnarled girth splitting your insides apart had you pulling away for a moment. That was until he gently cupped the back of your neck, pulling your face to his as he rested his forehead on yours and you instantly felt calmer and relaxed. The first touch of his hot flesh against your soaked core had you trembling with anticipation, before he paused, one massive hand resting over your stomach, and he growled as the warmth of your womb almost burnt into his palm;

“Mine...” he muttered, before those feral eyes met yours; “...ours”

“Captain… now, please…” you whined, knowing that what he knew about you, and you were ready.

With a roar he surged forward, your ripened walls parting for him as if welcoming him home. With his palm still pressed to your stomach he could feel himself inside you, the thickness pushing out your belly as he moved slowly and carefully, working to get just the right angle until he paused and you saw that ring of fire in his irises again burn bright.

It was then that he moved faster, the pull and push hitting every spot inside you, feral and wanting, an urgent need to to fill you with his seed, to breed you took over. Faster and faster he pounded into your soft body, drawing orgasms out of you quicker than you could process them, before he slowed and pulled you up so you were sitting, your bodies still connected. In that moment it was when the connection, the bond was finally fully formed, and as he pressed his forehead to your and started to fuck you again, you felt your spirit joining with his. His thrusts got faster, harder, his breath hot on your skin. The angle of his pelvis meant it took just a couple more thrusts and you were coming again, this time he threw his head back and let out a cry-come-howl as he released into your womb, his seed flooding into you as your body eagerly milked him of it.

You stayed joined in the most intimate of ways until the cool night air made a shiver run down your back, the movement of your body making you realise the Captain was still hard and nestled deep within you;

“So… are we stuck?”

“No… but this is the first time i’ve done… this… whilst i’ve been like… this…” he let out a huff of air; “I’m not exactly sure how long i’m gonna stay hard Darlin’... we could be here a while…”

“All night?” you said, a hint of hope in your voice

“I’m yours until the moon goes down Darlin’”

“And after the moon goes down?”

He Captain paused;

“What would a girl like you want with a beast like me come daybreak?”

Running your hand over his beard your thumb caressed the skin of his cheek;

“Everything Captain… i want all of you...” It was only in that moment that Sy saw it, the ring of fire in your own eyes. He had found his mate and you had found yours; “Breed me Captain…”

#captain syverson #captain syverson smut #captain sy x reader #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill

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harostar · 3 years

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Copy and pasted from elsewhere. My attempt to summarize Roman Holiday!

Roman's story follows him as a young man in Mistral, getting into trouble with a pair of Spider goons (Brick and Mortar). They attack him for mugging someone on their turf, so he beats them up and steals the protection money they were carrying. A week later, the Spiders pick him up and bring him to meet Lil' Miss herself. (Roman likes milfs.) He convinces her that he can do better than her current people, and eventually rises to become her right-hand man over the years.

But he's overly-ambitious, taking the Twins on a raid of a gang's base of operations. Paul Parrot has a "treasure" in the basement, which turns out to be a Rat Grimm he imported from Menagerie that he feeds people to. Roman manages to outwit him by injuring the Grimm with the twins' help, then provokes Paul until he flips out and his rage makes him the more desirable target for the Grimm. They escape, but Lil' Miss is pissed about him moving on his own AND putting her daughters' at risk. This was all according to his plan, as he wanted to get out of having to play bodyguard to the twins.

Eventually, he's caught taking an extra protection payment for himself. His old partner, Cammie (very similar to Ilia) warns him and lets him escape after a fight. He flees Mistral, going over his options — Vacuo has a strong criminal element, but it's hard to break into. Atlas is...well...Mantle has nothing worthwhile and trying in Atlas itself is too risky. So he heads for Vale.

Roman's first criminal act is holding up a bank, which goes comically. Literally no one believes its happening, because Vale doesn't HAVE major criminal stuff happening. A pair of incompetent Huntsmen (Roch and Kandi) try to stop him, but end up beaten while Roman escapes. They end up in hot water of their behavior, with Ozpin being interviewed about it briefly. Roman begins building a name for himself, coming to the attention of Hei Xiong. He's threatened, but walks away alive and decides to further reinvent himself by having his Spiders tattoo covered.

Meanwhile, young Trivia begins to rebel against her parents. They keep her in isolation, forcing her to wear a brown contact to hide her mismatched eyes in photos and whenever guests come over. Her father is a prominent City Manager working for the Vale council, and they make a big fuss over her "overactive imagination" and "refusal" to speak. She has a private tutor, a former Huntress that was fired from Signal Combat School after getting a student killed. I THOUGHT it might be Gretchen, but it doesn't match what we know — it was Signal, not Beacon, so Ozpin wasn't involved. Trivia drugs her teacher and sneaks out using her Semblance. She goes into the city and gets bullied by a gang of girls, ending with the police picking her up. One of the officers suspects abuse, but their hands are tied. There's a party going on, and Trivia rampages through it using her Semblance to cause trouble.

As the years go on, Trivia keeps sneaking out and rebelling. She goes on a stealing spree in town, coming home with a ton of new stuff. Her father catches her and notes that he paid everyone off to cover up her antics. In a rage, she throws her new parasol at him. This leads to her parents locking her in her room, using increasingly complex locks. She studies tutorials and manuals to learn to pick locks, but eventually has one too complex. With "Neo"'s encouragement, she tries to damage the lock with hairspray and a candle. Instead, she starts a fire and is forced to leap from her window to escape. In doing so, she discovers she can make her illusions more solid temporarily — reinforcing her parasol to break her fall, and being caught by "Neo". Her parents are furious, and her mother smashes "Neo" in front of her. Trivia finds she can no longer make "Neo", but realizes it was simply her own wishes being expressed by her Semblance.

Trivia is sent to Lady Browning's private finishing school, a school her mother graduated from. It has incredibly strict rules, uniforms, and a bunch of mean girls led by the Malachite Twins. Trivia is relentlessly bullied, until one night she sneaks out to follow the twins. She witnesses them attack Roman, and helps him escape. Afterwards, Lady Browning offers her a spot in her "advanced" program and asks her to help capture Roman. This advanced program trains...well....basically Black Widows, for lack of a better way to describe it. Advanced combat lessons, espionage training, lessons in deception and reading other people, ect. Trivia excels, but also makes contact with Roman. She introduces herself as Neo, because she doesn't want to be connected to her father. She also begins dying her hair and altering her uniform, beginning to create the persona we all know.

They immediately form a strong partnership, with Roman training her further in combat and criminal stuff. He has the Schemes Board from Chibi, and they plot together before pulling off their first big heist. They hit up the warehouse supplying most of the city's coffee, and steal what they can. Roch shows up, having lost his license and out for revenge. Neo hits him with a truck to save Roman, and they end up destroying the warehouse leaving them with the only supply of coffee to fence. Roman gifts Neo with Hush, while she gives him his signature hat and makes matching outfits for them.

They carry out various wacky crimes, making a profit while putting Xiong in an awkward position. He controls crime in Vale, and has the police under his thumb. But he doesn't want to claim he's involved with these wacky crimes, nor does he want to admit he's got competition. His conflict with Lil' Miss starts heating up, with both parties starting to gun for Roman.

Neo discovers Lady Beat's server room, and realizes the school is a way not only to train agents but to basically have hidden cameras on all the prominent families/businesses in Vale. She steals the hard drive, fights off the Twins when they come for her, and realizes Lil' Miss and Lady Beat are working together. Honey Wine, Roman's old friend from Mistral, helps the Spiders capture him to pay off her loan to Lil' Miss for her Vale nightclub. In desperation, Neo approaches a pair of cops parked outside Roman's apartment — they take her to Xiong, who calls himself her "uncle". He explains that her father owes him a lot of money, and he intends to use her as a hostage to get his money. Even so, he wishes he had a smart kid like her instead of his idiot son Junior. Neo knocks him out and assumes his appearance, joining his forces as they go after Lil' Miss and her gang.

Neo hijacks the Bullhead, rescues Roman, and then they decide to lie low at her parents' for lack of anywhere else to go. Cue a nod to Blake and Sun visiting Menagerie, with Roman shocked when she points out that the big mansion is her house. Her parents are furious, but let them in. Her parents drug them with tea, intending to trade Roman and the hard drive to Lil' Miss to get out from under Xiong. They've both been hoping to take over Xiong's empire, but Roman faked being drugged and takes them both out. He finds Neo, and they devise a plan to get everyone off their backs and get rid of the hard drive. Roman sends the data to Lisa Lavender, while Neo plays decoy and discovers her father in her old room. She realizes he was stealing Dust from Xiong, and hiding the cache UNDER her room. This was the reason he was so angry about the fire. She's furious to realize he basically had her locked in a prison over a bomb, and locks him in her old room.

She disguises herself and Roman as her parents, then tricks Lil' Miss into firing on her old room. The Dust explodes, killing everyone still inside the mansion — her father, and likely her mother, Lady Beat, and Hei Xiong. Roman asks if she's okay, but Neo is kind of...shrugs and not sure how she feels. They ride off into the sunset together.

So basically, Roman and Neo are best buddies. Roman was QUITE LITERALLY Neo’s first and only friend, after a lifetime of isolation and bullying. Also the first person to not give a shit about her being mute, or about her “weird eyes”. He just accepted her without question, and encouraged her to never settle for less than she could take.

Junior is a pathetic crime boss because he’s the idiot son of the ACTUAL crime boss, who Neo ended up killing. He seems to have submitted to Lil’ Miss Malachite after his father died.

Neo is a Black Widow highly-trained spy and assassin, as well as a Savant that learns rapidly through observation and a shit-ton of tutorial videos. She loved Fairy Tales growing up, with her favorite being “The Girl in the Tower”. (lol)

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby roman holiday #rwby roman holiday spoilers

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

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Don’t Apologize (Request)

Sebastian Stan x gn!teen!co-star!reader, Anthony Mackie x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: Hi🖐 Can I please request a cast x teen reader and there in an interview and she's quite shy and doesnt talk much and the interviewer knows that so they ask her all the questions but she cant and she starts to cry so the cast get angry or something. I love your writing♥️

Warnings: language, anxiety

(A/N): so sorry i didnt do this like i usually do my cast x readers, i only chose seb and anthony for this. i hope its still alright. and im back to requests again, although it’s been fun doing some of my own work (and also work with loz, that beautiful bastard) for a while :)

“See you later, Bryan.. If you know what I mean!” Anthony yelled after the last interviewer, as he shuffled out the room with his list of unanswered. You and Sebastian were cackling, wiping your tears. You’d lost track of how many interviews you’d had to sit through of Anthony talking about his ‘round brown’.

“Oh my god, how many of these do we have left?” Sebastian asked, calming down finally, and running a hand through his hair.

“Why? You have something you want to tell me?” Anthony joked accusingly, looking from Sebastian to you. You shook your head silently, hoping to not be dragged into one of their never ending discussions.

“Don’t- Don’t drag me into your shit, Mackie,” you mumbled. A wheeze escaped Anthony at your shy mumble. “Why couldn’t they just have paired me with Elizabeth again?”

Before Anthony could begin joking and making you and Sebastian laugh again, another interviewer walked in. She looked uptight and collected, wearing professional clothing and holding rather official looking papers.

“Hello, I’m Yolanda,” she greeted Sebastian with a toothpaste-smile, and shook his hand firmly, before doing the same to you and Anthony. She was intimidating, not casual or approachable, but someone who had their shit together.

She seemed interested in you right from the start. In her first few questions, she’d always look directly at you while asking. Her sharp gaze was anxiety inducing, even more so than all the other interviewers. Sebastian and Anthony ended up answering for you though, knowing that you were shy and uncomfortable with people. Yolanda didn’t seem satisfied with this though.

“Y/n,” now she was addressing you directly, spitting your name from her mouth like poison, “would you say that this movie is in line with you and your coworkers’ character arcs?”

You were sure you could answer it. Well, if you were at home, talking to your pillow. Right there you could feel your heart beating painfully against your ribcage. Both of the men on either side of you definitely heard the way your breathing picked up.

“Uh. Well. Yeah, to a- to a degree. Some of them,” you choked out. Pathetically, you realized you were blinking away tears. No one had noticed yet, thank goodness. What a stupid thing to cry about, you thought.

“Do you think it aligns with the comics’ character arcs? Do you think it’s good to diverge from the original story?” She asked intensely, eyes still boring into yours. You kept your gaze at the floor sheepishly, picking at your nails.

Sebastian looked down at your hands in your lap, and quickly grabbed one in his hold, preventing you from picking your fingers.

“Um.. Well, I think- I think that there are a lot of, you know, um, storylines and arcs in the, uh, the comics, so staying canon could mean a- a lot of things,” when you finished your sentence, you breathed out in relief. Your entire torso seemed inhabited by a wild, unresting anxiety, tingling and aching.

A single tear slid down your face, and you quickly rushed the hand that was not in Sebastian’s to wipe it away. This definitely did not go unnoticed. You immediately felt Sebastian squeeze your hand and Anthony putting his arm around you protectively.

“What the damn hell, lady? You’re stressing them out!” Anthony boomed, gesturing wildly with his free hand. You looked up and saw Sebastian’s jaw clenched and brows furrowed. Anthony had a similar expression, you discovered when you turned to him, a frown prominent on his features, and intense eyes.

“What’s your problem?” Sebastian yelled. The woman seemed taken aback, mouth agape and on her chest like she couldn’t believe that they thought this was her fault.

“It’s not my fault they started crying!” she said. Her voice shook quietly, clenching her hands around the bottom of the chair she sat on.

“Yeah, it is your fault!” Anthony said. Meanwhile, you sat there uncomfortably, shaking. She was right, you thought, it was your fault for being such a baby, she was just doing her job.

“I’m- I’m sorry, it’s not your fault-” you begun, finally raising your head to meet the woman’s eyes. Her gaze made you tremble. She was bristling.

“No, Y/n, don’t apologize. It is her fault.” Sebastian cut you off, squeezing your hand once more, encasing it in his two. Anthony nodded angrily.

“Alright, I think it’s best if you leave.” Another woman, whom you recognized as Anthony’s publicist, came racing into the interview. She put her hands on her hips, and nodded towards the door sassily.

The interviewer huffed, and gave you another furious look. “You’ll hear of this on my blog. The world will know!” Then she got up and away, stomping all the way out. You breathed a sigh of relief, the moment the door closed behind her.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian immediately turned to you, searching your eyes again. His heart broke at the way you trembled. You nodded.

“Man, that woman was an asshole!” Anthony, too, could feel the way you shook under his arm on your shoulders. “That was not your fault, she was just a dick!”

“Agreed!” Sebastian scoffed, hands still holding yours.

Anthony’s publicist studied you three for a moment, furrowing her brows and chewing her lips. Then she looked at the filming crew, and the back at you three. “How about we say we’re done for today?”

You all looked up, “Really?”

“I’ll handle the marvel dudes. You guys just take the rest of the day off,” she smiled warmly at you, a caring look in her eyes. A grin stretched on your face. Anthony and Sebastian exchanged glances when they saw your face, smiling.

“Back to the hotel then!” Sebastian grunted as you all stood up. You left and drove back to the hotel, and when you got there you ate sandwiches and chips. After that the three of you played Mario Kart together (something you’d taught them, and they’d absolutely fallen in love with it).

“Fuck you, Stan!” Anthony spat, doing a flip over Sebastian’s kart and getting into 3rd place. You giggled from your place on 1st.

“Oh fuck, don’t do this, Mackie, don’t do this!”

“Adios, Amigo!” Anthony cackled, disappearing far in front of Sebastian. The latter threw his head back in defeat. The round ended, you crossing the finish line on first, Anthony on second and Sebastian on fourth.

“That was a shitty round, I demand a rematch,” he said, sipping his water. Anthony scoffed and shook his head. You did too.

“Hey, by the way, N/n?” Anthony was looking at you from his place beside you on the couch. You nodded questioningly. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right? What happened back there with that lady?”

You grew quiet, heat rising to your cheeks. Sebastian had a look on his face. You guessed they had talked together, that they would bring it up with you again.

“Because it wasn’t. It’s not your fault you feel this way. It was that lady who should have been more mindful of you and how you feel. She was clearly trying to take advantage of your timidness to make you spoil something,” Sebastian continued. He still seemed angry, actually, clenching his hand.

“So don’t apologize for that stuff, alright? That ain’t on you,” Anthony patted your back. You looked at him and then Sebastian with a smile, and then nodded sheepishly.

“Alright, yeah. I guess you’re right,” you said softly.

“Of course we’re right!” Anthony was (unsurprisingly) immediately back to normal, “now back to the game, kiddos. Sebastian wants a rematch, he’ll get one.”

And then you played Mario Kart together for an unspecified number of hours, the thought of that asshole interviewer long gone. You felt right at home, at number one in Mario Kart and number one in their hearts.

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x teen!reader #sebastian stan x daughter!reader #anthony mackie x reader #anthony mackie x teen!reader #anthony mackie x daughter!reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reade #marvel cast x reader #mcu cast x reader

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startanewdream · 3 years

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Dancing lessons

Summary: Lily shares a few dances with her son.

Notes: For @sweeethinny who asked me both for a story with Lily teaching Harry how to waltz and for family moments, and for the Anon who asked for a little of Harry jealous with Krum.

This story ties with 'Emergency Meeting', 'Hope' and 'Shotgun wedding' in this Jily Lives AU. Banner thanks to @the-dream-team!

On AO3 or below:

‘Merlin, this is stupid,’ Harry declares, right before he steps over her foot for the third time. ‘Sorry, Mum!’

Lily smiles, even though her foot hurts now. For someone who seems to have two left feet, he managed to hit her precisely in the same place all three times.

‘That’s fine, Harry,’ she tells him quietly, coming closer to him again. ‘No, hold my hand firmly. Yeah, like that. You are supposed to be leading me in the dance, remember?’

‘Yeah, right,’ he murmurs, not all convincing. Lily has seen him less nervous before he faced the dragon than he is with the prospect of the opening dance at the Yule Ball. At least, he didn’t call her so urgently with concerns about how to deal with a dragon.

‘One, two, three,’ she calls loudly, helping him guide her through that rented room in the Three Broomsticks. ‘One more time… now you spin me.’

He does, albeit with a little difficulty; Lily is still taller than him, though she knows this won’t last long. She remembers how James went through a growth spurt around fifteen; and she remembers what also happened with him during that time, all those teenage hormones.

Harry grew up so fast...

‘Very good,’ she compliments him. ‘Don’t forget she’ll be wearing dress robes, so be careful not to step over.’

‘Not step on the foot, not step on the dress — why did they invent dances?’

‘You might enjoy someday,’ she tells him, a knowing smile on her lips that Harry doesn’t understand yet. ‘So, tell me about this girl you are going with.’

Harry frowns. ‘Parvati? She’s nice. Ron is going with her sister.’

‘Oh, double date, then?’

‘Date?’ Harry blinks, surprised, then scandalized. ‘It’s not a date!’

‘You are going as friends?’

‘Yeah, but —’ he still looks lost. ‘Do you think she thinks it’s a date? Should it be one? What do I do?’

‘Breath, for starters,’ she tells him and, for good measure, Lily waits until Harry takes a deep breath, the panic in his eyes dimming. ‘I think you would know if it were a date. People do know these things, you know?’

Harry doesn’t seem like he knows it at all, but he nods, suddenly much more at ease.

‘Is she the girl you asked your father about weeks ago?’

A blush comes to his cheek. It’s rather adorable, she thinks, but she keeps from showing it. Harry is really shy when it comes to his feelings; one wrong word and he’ll crawl back into his shell and she won’t be able to take any word out of him.

‘No, that was… someone else.’

‘Didn’t work?’

His shoulders slump. ‘Someone else had already asked her out.’

‘Oh, it happens.’

‘Yeah.’ He looks dismayed.

‘You know, it happened to me once. I was going to ask your father out, well, at least that was what I tried to tell myself, but then he already had a date.’

Harry’s eyes widen. Lily remembers James speaking how unfathomable it is to Harry to think of his parents being with anyone else.

‘He rejected you?’

Lily lets out a laugh. ‘Rejection is a strong word, I hadn't even asked him out when I found out he had other plans. It was by the end of our Sixth Year, the last trip to Hogsmeade, and he went with this girl... Let me tell you, it was a miserable summer for me afterwards.’

‘Oh.’ Harry bits the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. ‘Because he was dating someone else?’

‘That was the funny thing, I didn’t know if he was with someone or not, because I was too afraid to ask and make it evident that I was fancying him just as he used to... well, in any case, no, what made me the most miserable was not knowing what he’d say if I had asked him out.’

‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘I mean, at least I know Cho didn’t deny it because she didn’t want to, but because I was too late.’

‘Cho?’, she asks, keeping her voice light. His blush intensifies and Harry spins her again more to gain time than because it was the correct step. It is a nice spin, though. ‘Is she in your year?’

‘No, one above.’ He stops, unsure. ‘Does it make a difference? If she is older?’

‘One year is not much,’ Lily assures him, and then Harry starts moving again as this weight is lifted from his shoulders. ‘And for older — I’m older than your father.’

‘For two months.’

‘Still makes me wiser,’ she promises him, making him laugh. ‘Well, you can ask her out some other time. You can even ask her for a dance at the Yule Ball!’

He sighs heavily, a disbelieving expression coming to his face. ‘Oh, she wouldn’t accept it.’

‘Come on’, she winks at him. ‘Being a Triwizard Champion must come with some benefit.’

He grimaces. ‘Her date is one too.’

‘Cedric?’ she guesses. ‘Oh, bad luck, Harry. He is nice.’

‘He is bloody annoying,’ he mumbles, then his eyes meet hers. ‘Ops, sorry.’

‘Oh, you should have heard what I used to call Cecily,’ she replies easily, shrugging, feeling silly for her young self.

‘Who?’

‘Cecily Jones, the girl who went on that date with your father.’

‘He never mentioned —’

‘I doubt he remembers, Harry,’ she laughs. ‘It was one date — they weren’t going out in the summer, after all — and it didn’t matter afterwards. If you and this girl, Cho, are meant to be, you’ll find your path to each other eventually.’

‘You think so?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t be here if your father and I didn’t,’ reminds Lily. ‘Just remember — always take a leap. And if you ask her to dance, well, I think you’ll do just fine.’ She pauses them. ‘You didn’t step on my foot once in the last five minutes.’

‘Oh!’, amazement shines on his eyes. ‘I can dance!’

‘A waltz at least,’ she agrees, ruffling his hair fondly. ‘Our summer project will be teaching you to loose your hips.’

___________

The ginger boy has a crossed expression on his face when Lily pulls him to the dance floor.

‘Mum,’ he calls, annoyed, as she places his hand around her waist as she did years ago. He grimaces, but takes her hand, moving rather graciously for someone who is wearing the wrong body. He still remembers, she notes gladly.

‘Son,’ she answers back, teasing.'You know, you could have been born like this.'

'What do you mean?'

'Ginger like me, but with your father's eyes.'

The boy doesn’t look like her or James at all, but it’s a nice thought all the same. Lily always wondered how another child of her and James might look like...

'So people you just give me the "you look like your mother but have your father's eyes"?'

'That would be a change.'

'Not really,' he mumbles, distracted. His eyes keep moving away from her, and judging by the way Harry sighed when the bridesmaids first appeared during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, she knows who he is looking at.

And it’s not to the bride’s young sister.

‘You should ask her for a dance.’

‘Who?,’ he asks guiltily, looking back at her. Lily raises one eyebrow, not impressed with his attempt to playing dumb.

‘While you can. Before you leave.’

‘I —’ he stops, conflicted. His face is all wrong, not one single resemblance to her son, and yet his expression is the same in the face of that muggle boy Harry is impersonating for the day. ‘It’s because I’m leaving that I can’t.’

‘The things we don’t do haunt us more than the things we do,’ she warns him, and Harry looks wistfully, his longing evident. Then an annoyed furious expression crosses his face, and he presses her hand as if to stop himself from taking his wand; when Lily follows the direction of his gaze, she sees Viktor Krum going to the table where Ginny and Luna are talking happily.

‘I could hex him,’ Harry murmurs darkly. ‘I wouldn’t regret that.’

She smiles, amused. ‘I thought Ron was the one with problems with Krum?’

‘I’m starting to agree with him,’ he replies. ‘A toss, really… Thinks he is so great because he is an international Quidditch player, big deal…’

Lily doubts this will matter to Ginny and, sure enough, as they watch, Ginny shakes her head at whatever Krum is saying, and Krum leaves, clearly dejected. Harry grins, satisfaction all over his face, and as if she can sense his stare, Ginny turns towards them.

Harry turns away quickly, but Lily knows it was not enough.

‘Harry…’

'She will accept it,' he mumbles, dismayed. 'Maybe not Krum, maybe not today, but her future is so free whereas mine…'

'Is bright too,' she finishes for him, voice stern now. 'Self-doubt will not take you anywhere, Harry. And you may have not noticed while you were brooding in the corner, but she kept throwing glances at you too. She wants to dance with you.'

'Oh. I… I would step on her foot.'

'Of course not, I taught you well,' Lily tells him with a smile, breaking away. 'I am going to find your father.'

There is a whole new trouble on Harry's face now and Lily refrains from sighing.

'I'll see you later. I’ll just stick around here for a while.'

'Mustering the courage?' she guesses wisely. He flushes. 'Remember, if you are meant to be -'

'We'll find our path to each other. Yeah, I know.'

She places a quiet kiss on his cheek, enjoying the fact that for the first time in a couple of years she is taller than him.

'Things will be fine, Harry. Don't lose hope.'

_____________

Harry is beaming, happiness written all over his face, wrinkles at the corner of his eyes more prominent than ever. Lily enjoys the fact those wrinkles come from laughing, not worrying.

Next to them, the bride and the groom's father are making a mess on the dance floor, spinning each other out of control, giggling crazily, and Harry looks at them with fondness.

'I thought Dad knew how to dance,' he says, amused.

'He does, but you know him. He likes to show off.'

Harry laughs. It's a carefree sound, not a single weight on his shoulders today.

'Well, let's show him how it's done, then?' he suggests, offering her his hand and Lily takes it graciously, letting her son conduct her to the dance floor.

He really waltzes well.

'You've been training,' she notes. Harry smiles guiltily.

'I like to dance in front of the mirror. Helps me to relax.'

'We only need to upgrade your dancing moves.'

'Ginny has this project, don't worry. We have a record player at home, she is teaching me all the good old wizarding songs. Sirius will help me with the Muggle ones and next thing I'm hitting a dancing club.'

She smiles at the idea of Harry in a nightclub; he is past twenty now, married and living away, but he is still her child in many ways.

'We should make him or her take dance classes,' he adds as an afterthought, his gaze falling to her belly, though there isn't any bump there yet. 'Make sure they won't get embarrassed in a school dance when they are older.'

'Nah, big brother Harry can teach them how to dance.'

He nods happily, spinning her around. The movement makes them get closer to James and Ginny.

'Switch partners?' James suggests, winking at them.

Harry laughs and spins his mother one last time, just as James does the same with Ginny. Lily finds herself in the arms of her husband, who stops long enough to kiss her tenderly, before drifting her away to the dancing floor.

Her husband waltzes nicely when he wants, Lily thinks joyfully, and with her pregnant, she knows he will be extra careful. James is cautious like that, but she lets him enjoy that protectiveness. It doesn’t come attached with any other worry — no war, no threat on their lives, and that’s something she can learn to live with.

Her gaze moves to the other couple. Harry and Ginny shine under the lights of the tent, today no other couple holding a candle for the happiness that irradiates from them. Her gaze drops and she watches as their feet move in synchrony, Harry always careful to avoid stepping over her long wedding dress.

Yes, she thinks. I really taught him well.

#Harry & Lily #Eyes glistening #Jily Lives #Jily Fanfiction #Hinny Fanfiction #t: fanfiction #family fluff #happy ending

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Face the Darkness

Prompt 2 for @greenfiredragonfly's Angstember prompts-- "Go. But I'm not Leaving." This time I've gone for some War in Heaven angst! Technically a slight AU as you'll see in the end, but I'm assuming most of the rest works out as in canon.

The Fortress trembled as the ground shifted once more, cracks splitting the desiccated plain in an ever more complex spider web. Solid stone walls vibrated, pouring streams of crushed stone from every corner of the ceiling. The air was thick with dust. Already the loyal forces of Heaven had withdrawn to the distant hills to watch, silent and impassive.

The War had ended. The Fortress of Lucifer had begun its Fall.

The first of the four watchtowers collapsed, shattering across blasted plain. From the wreckage crawled the rebellious angels, bodies already twisting into more animalistic shapes: talons and fangs, scales and gills, rotten flesh and oozing sores.

Outside the walls patrolled guards in solid plate armor wielding swords and spears and whips; in an instant, they descended on the few who had escaped, driving them back towards the gates, towards their fate. More beings inside fought and screamed, clawing at the guards only to be pushed back again and again. Voices raised, accusations shouted at soldiers, at leaders, at God Herself.

The guards were not of the heavenly legions. When Lucifer’s last army was routed, he had declared that all of his rebels would share in his punishment. Those who kept the frightened masses in check had been promised prominent positions as the Lords of their new domain, while the would-be deserters risked punishments more gruesome than anything the enemy had done.

Still, they tried.

Some few managed to pass the final ring of guards, to strike out across the plain that moved and reformed under their feet, cracks and crevices opening wide, whole sections of land suddenly dissolving, raining down into the realm of darkness.

They fled, running across uncertain ground, leaping treacherous drops, praying for forgiveness with every breath, holding out their arms to the loyal armies, beseeching their friends to intercede, to stay the Hand of Judgment.

Those who reached the hills and were welcomed into the protection of Heaven found themselves restored, their flesh returned to normal, bodies untwisted, souls pardoned.

The rest… well, they reached their final destination a little sooner than the rest.

One angel stood alone on a watchtower, eyes scanning the chaos below through a shifting curtain of bright red hair.

The scuff of a footstep, barely audible above the screams. The angel turned slightly—a single glance back—just enough for a glimpse of familiar white feathers.

“Shouldn’t be here,” the angel said, turning back to the destruction.

“Neither should you.”

“This again?” A twist of lips, too bitter to be called a smile. “You’ve already told me what you think. Eons and eons ago.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind.”

The angel clutched at the stone parapet, or tried to; it fell apart, sending another rain of dust towards the frightened crowd below. “And, what, you’re here to offer me salvation? Take my confession and determine if I’m worthy? Enact vengeance for all those I’ve destroyed?”

“My dear friend. I’m here to save you.”

Briefly, there were tears in the angel’s eyes; but already those eyes were changing, restructuring into a new shape. “Don’t deserve it.”

“I say you do.” A soft hand landed on the angel’s shoulder, offering a squeeze of comfort. “There is no wickedness in you. No cruelty. Even at the height of the War’s atrocities, you never lost your kindness. You are only here because you were manipulated by Lucifer, caught in his lies. That is no judgment on you. He could just as easily have swayed me, or Gabriel, or anyone else.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?” With a rumble louder than any thunder, the ground below fractured once more. The fortress rose and fell, another tower crumbling to a chorus of screams. “Come, we don’t have time.”

“What must I do?” The first angel didn’t move, but the second breathed a sigh of relief at the question.

“Cross the plain, no more than that. If you reach the other side, if someone is willing to intercede on your behalf, you will be forgiven.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, my dear, oh, it’s so simple. I will be beside you every step of the way, to guide you, to keep you safe. You can’t possibly fail.”

The angel nodded, still looking down into the broken courtyard. “Tell me this: why me? You could save anyone. Why me?”

A brief, shocked silence. “That’s—why would I…? Because I love you.”

“And what about them?” Down below the future Lords of Darkness moved through the crowds, grabbing weeping angels by the jaw or the neck, inspecting them, claiming their favorites. Torments would begin soon, pains that would become familiar to them all. “They were tricked by Lucifer, the same as me.” One pale, scruffy creature grabbed a trembling, crying being by the hair, dragging them towards a dark door. “Do they deserve this fate because they don’t have the love of a Guardian?”

Flinching, the pale figure pulled back towards the shadows. “That isn’t fair.” Little more than a whisper. “You know they don’t. But I can’t save them. Only you.”

With a deep, shaking breath, the angel finally turned, eyes now glinting gold, pupils stretching into lines. “No. You can’t save me. Not if I don’t want to be saved.”

“What are you talking about?” Hazel eyes shining like earthlight as the darkness closed in. “How can you not—”

“How can I go back? Tell me that! How can I ignore the things I learned? Not everything Lucifer said was a lie, that’s why he was so successful. How can I be happy when I’ve seen things for what they truly are?” In a softer voice: “How can I follow a God who would throw so many away just because they’re unloved?” A sob shook those narrow shoulders, but no tears fell. Never again. “If there’s a way, please, tell me. Because I can’t—”

The entire plain rippled like a wave. Another tower fell, and the one they stood on tilted perilously.

“Dearest, we can talk about this later. We need to go now.”

“Go.” The angel turned back to the courtyard. “But I’m not leaving.”

“No!” The Guardian hauled the angel back, as if ready to fly them both to safety or be destroyed trying. “Don’t—you can’t! Don’t you understand what’s happening? What it all means?”

“Better than you!” The angel turned with a furious growl. “I’ve spent countless ages among them already. I know what they’re like, I know what they’ll do to us, and I don’t want that. But I can’t go back.” Narrow hands reached out, clutching the other’s elbows. “Aziraphale, please understand. I can’t go back. Not with… everything I know…”

They embraced, the Guardian blinking back tears. “You could… you could ask God to take your memories. It would be as if you’d never…”

“I can’t.”

“Not… not even for me?”

“I would forget you, too.”

“But I’ll remember.” Aziraphale leaned back, eyes pleading. “And I will still love you. Nothing will change that.”

“But I will change.” The angel scowled again, though this time not from anger but from the desperate search for words. “It’s… not the memories themselves. I might lose them anyway. I’ve already lost my name; I’m losing my form. I’m Falling. And whatever Falling does to me, whatever I become, I will still be me. But. But to willinglygive up the knowledge I’ve earned. To turn my back on it… I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

The next tremor started, and didn’t end.

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale wailed. “But I don’t have to. If… if this will make you happy…”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.” One last desperate embrace as the surrounding plain began to crumble. “It’s time. Go.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Aziraphale!” But the Guardian only held the angel tighter. “You—you can’t Fall!”

“I do not believe I will. God knows Her own.”

The outer walls vanished, tumbling into the nothing below, bringing wave after wave of bodies with them. “No, She’ll just rip you out of my arms at the cruelest possible moment.”

“Where you see cruelty, I see kindness. Every second with you is a blessing.”

“Aziraphale!”

“Quiet, love. I’m praying.”

The ground shook, lurched, dropped away—

The Fortress and all within it Fell—

All except two angels, wrapped in each other’s arms. Held aloft by Aziraphale’s wings, they did not Fall but meandered gently downwards.

“What?” The nameless angel looked around in confusion. “How…?”

“I told you. Kindness.” Aziraphale’s eyes were closed. “I asked Her for a few more minutes with you. And a chance to spare you from some of the darkness you must face. I know you don’t think you deserve it, but I think you do. And in the end, that is what mattered.”

“Aziraphale…” Quite without meaning to, the angel smiled in wonder. “I love you.”

When the Guardian’s eyes opened, the tears rolled upwards, leaving a trail of droplets back to Heaven. “I love you, too. And it was worth any price to see you smile again.”

“Price? Wait, what price?”

“All my memories of you.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. I was quite happy to exchange them to buy you these few minutes of peace and a guarantee that we will meet again. Though I’m afraid after that, things will be up to you.” Aziraphale’s incongruous smile began to fade. “What is it?”

“I… I just… I told you I wouldn’t… and then you…” Golden eyes drifted, staring into the suffocating darkness on every side. “What must you think of me?”

“I think you are the most wonderful being in all Creation. I wish for you to be you, in whatever way feels most genuine, as an angel or… otherwise.” Far below, the Fortress ruins came into view, lit by a strange blue glow. “I think you will have a hard enough time ahead of you without such complicated regrets. And I think,” another tear floating upward, glowing like a distant star, “I truly think, this way things will work out for the best.”

“You’ll forget me! Forget us! Everything we ever talked about, or… or…”

“But you’ll remember.” A gentle kiss on the forehead. “And I will still love you. Nothing will change that.”

The Fortress had landed in a boiling pool of sulfur. Aziraphale carefully set the former angel down on solid ground, a safe distance from the edge, then immediately began to float upwards again.

“Wait!” Desperately clinging to those soft hands, the last bit of comfort in the entire realm. “Don’t go!”

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I don’t belong down here anymore than you belong Upstairs. We will meet again in the world to come.”

“But what if… without your memories… you’re different? More like the others?”

“Oh.” For the first time since the Fall, Aziraphale looked troubled. “I suppose you… may see some changes you don’t like…”

“No, not that. I’m not going to love you any less. But… you’ll think I’m just another Enemy.”

“Nonsense. I love you, dear boy. And I have the opportunity to fall in love all over again.” The upward pull began to draw their fingers apart. “Only, I don’t know how long that will take, so… be patient?”

“Aziraphale…”

“Take care of yourself, love.” Their grip on each other failed and Aziraphale drifted away, rising faster and faster. “I will see you again! I promise!”

“Aziraphale!”

Silence, broken only by the stirring of creatures rising from the sulfur and slinking into the shadows.

Hands still warm from the loving touch of an angel, the demon turned to face the darkness.

#good omens prime #good omens angst #angel crowley #angst #angstember2021 #prompt challenge #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #war in heaven #amnesia #my writing #is it too sad #it might be

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littlemissaddict · 3 years

Text

Leaving - Luke x Reader

She didn’t know what it was lately but every conversation she had with Luke always seemed to end in an argument. It could be over the smallest most ridiculous thing but it was always the same outcome as neither of them would back down once they'd started and that was how she'd come to find out it was their stubbornness that made them so alike.

Today was no different, he'd come round after band rehearsal and for the first time in a while they had been getting along but then she didn't know what happened as Luke had snapped at her which had been the beginning of another argument.

"I'm leaving" Luke announced, storming off in the direction of the door which caused her to let out a mocking laugh.

"Of course you are, that's all you know how to do" she scoffs, watching his entire body tense up as he stops mid step. She knows that she's gone too far with her words but she's too annoyed to care, selfishly wanting to hurt him as revenge for hurting her.

It's quiet except for their heavy breaths filling the room as they stand frozen, neither of them making any effort to move or say anything. Her words hang heavy in the air as Luke finally turns back to face her and she can see the hurt in his eyes but that's not the only emotion swirling in them. There's anger as well, an emotion she's come to know all too well from the boy in front of her, however this time it's different, more prominent and it's the angriest she thinks she's ever seen him which scares her a little.

"What" he breathes heavily as if trying to calm himself before he speaks again, "is that supposed to mean" he grits out, his hands clenched into fists by his sides before realising again as he takes a few steps towards her.

"You know exactly what I mean, Luke Patterson" she responds without hesitation, pointing at him as she speaks as if it will help to get her point across, "when things get too hard for you, you just leave, you did it with your parents and now you're doing it to me" she states, crossing her arms across her chest as she glares at him.

He shakes his head before speaking, "You don't know what you're talking about" he practically spits out.

"Oh really because rather than talking about whatever is going on between us at the minute, you start an argument and then just walk away and you know what I'm sick of it so if that's all you want from me then we're done" she says, the words slipping from her mouth before she has any chance to think them through. Regret washes over her the moment the words come out, however, her stubbornness will not let her admit it.

"You know what maybe you're right for once" he snapped, turning on his heel and walking straight out of the door making sure to slam it on his way out.

The second the door closes the tears are streaming down her face but it's not all sadness it's a mix of hurt, anger, regret and betrayal that the one person who was supposed to stand by her was gone without a word. Feeling her strength leave her, her body crumples to the floor but her eyes stay trained on the door just in case there is a small sliver of a chance that he'll come back and agree that them breaking up was a mistake, that they'll work it out but he doesn’t.

Of course he doesn't.

She’s unsure of how much time passes until the door opens again, it could be minutes or even hours considering how dark it had gotten but all she knows is that she’s still in the same spot that she was when he left. Julie’s face comes into view and it's clear she knows that something is wrong as there is a worried look on her face that soon morphs into one of sadness when she sees the crumpled form of her in the darkness of the room.

Julie’s quick to rush to her side, dropping down onto the floor next to her and pulling her in for what is meant to be a comforting hug but it doesn’t quite cut through the numbness that has spread throughout her body from hours of sitting on the hardwood floor. Julie hums softly as she holds her close and she can’t help but feel grateful that she had ended up with Julie in her life. Even though she has only known Julie for a short amount of time since she joined the band, she’s learned enough about her to know that she is loving, kind, loyal and fiercely protective over those that she cares about which she knows is exactly why they became such quick friends.

“How did you know to come here?” she croaks out, her voice hoarse from the shouting with Luke, then crying and then from the hours of silence she’s sat in.

“Luke” Julie says quietly, causing a pained look to cross her face that she knows Julie must see, “he turned up at Alex’s in a bad state and well he knew Luke had come here after rehearsal so he rang to ask if I could check up on you” she explains.

She hadn’t known Alex as long as Luke had but they’d always gotten along even ganging up on Luke sometimes to tease him but that was about it they were never what you’d call really close. So the thought of him looking out for her while having to deal with Luke had an unexpected warmth spreading through the numbness that had settled in her body, however it was soon washed away at the thought of Luke.

He’d shown up in a bad state was all Julie had said, that could mean anything. Was he still angry? It wouldn’t surprise her, he was furious when he walked out. Or was he as bad as she was at this moment in time? She hoped not because as much as he had infuriated her, she still loved him and didn’t want him to feel as broken as she did right now. Although she knew her words had to have an effect on him, she’d brought up how he ran away from home, a subject she knew was a no go but in the heat of the moment it had just slipped out and once it was out there, there was no taking it back.

She thought she was all out of tears to cry but more must have begun to slip down her face as her mind spiraled with thoughts because Julie was quick to wipe them away and try to soothe her, “Hey, I know it’s not great right now but we’ll figure it out” her voice was soft as she talked “now how about we get up of the floor and we try get some sleep and think about this in the morning with a fresh mind” she suggests waiting for an answer before getting up.

She woke the next morning feeling drained and a little confused until the events of the previous day filtered through her mind leaving her feeling empty. A noise from the kitchen made her realise that Julie must have stayed the night and she knew she should get up but she couldn't find it in herself to actually get out of bed instead preferring to stay where she was and hide from the world.

That was until the sound of knocking and she heard Julie make her way down the hallway to the door, her voice was muffled as she talked so she couldn't make out exactly what Julie was saying but no matter how muffled the next voice was that spoke she couldn’t doubt whose voice it was. That was all the motivation she needed to get out of bed, only stopping briefly in front of the mirror to throw her hair into a bun and make her way out of the room to see him.

"I just want to talk to her, please Julie" Luke's voice drifted through the open door and she could hear the desperation in his voice.

"I already told you Luke she's not up yet " Julie’s reply comes just as she steps into the hallway and she watches as Luke's gaze moves from Julie to her, his eyes pleading with her.

She says Julie's name quietly and the younger girl turns to her, "it's okay Julie, I'm okay" she tells her and Julie nods. Before Julie leaves, she gives her a hug letting her know to call if it doesn't work out, "I will and thank you" she replies as Julie let's go, passing Luke who now steps through the door following her into the front room.

He seems hesitant to talk, instead just sitting in the chair across from her and staring. The quiet gives her time to take in his appearance, his eyes are red rimmed that she guesses is either from crying or from lack of sleep and his hair is messier than usual, probably from the amount of times he's ran his hands through it, a habit she's noticed he does a lot when he's upset. Just when she's about to give up on him and ask him to leave he finally talks.

"I'm sorry for walking out, for the arguments, everything" he apologises, taking a shaky breath before he carries on talking, "but most of all I’m sorry that I made you feel like that was all I ever wanted from you because its not, I love you more than anything and I just hope that I can fix this because I can't lose you" he admits, his voice cracking towards the end and he wipes his eyes with the heel of his hands.

Mumbling his name, she gets up from her seat and wraps her arms around his neck. Without hesitation Luke pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck as he tries to hold back his tears.

"I'm sorry too Luke, I shouldn't have said what I did about you, about your parents and I know that you tried everything you could before running away" she apologises, pulling one hand from around his neck to wipe her own tears away, finally meeting Luke's eyes as he pulls away from her neck.

"You know I love you, right?" He asks, his eyes searching hers as his hand comes up to rest against her cheek, his thumb wiping away a few more escaping tears.

"I know and I love you too but we can't keep going on like this, the constant arguments are not healthy for either of us" she sighs, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his, her eyes closing as she does.

Luke sighs as well, "I know but we can work on it because I really, really can't lose you" he says, voice trailing off as he closes the distance between them and presses his lips to hers.

The sudden touch of his lips surprises her as her eyes are still closed but she's quick to respond, kissing him back while trying to hold him as close to her as she possibly can. Feeling the need to have him as close to her as physically possible just to know that he’s there with her and that he's not going to leave her like she originally thought he had the night before. Luke had the same idea as she did as his own arms tightened around her waist, holding her so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Each breath reminded him that she was there because even though he had found family with his bandmates and friends, here with her he had found his home, a place that was free from judgement and now that he had her back he was going to do everything in his power just to show her just how much she meant to him.

---

Taglist: @90ssunsetcurve @lovesanimals @lilostif16 @mrsweasley06 @fangirlangioma

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #luke patterson #jatp luke #luke x reader #julie molina #jatp julie #Alex Mercer #jatp alex #angst #angst with a happy ending

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writinglizards · 4 years

Text

If You Love It, Let It Go

Summary: Yennefer isn’t the only one Geralt pushes away on the mountain. And well. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

Read on Ao3

Finding out about Geralt's djinn wish is like being gutted. Yennefer knows magic, knows how insincere it is, how cutting, how fake. Finding that this gentle feeling in her chest is manufactured, no different from a glamor or a charm, is world-shattering.

She lashes out, Geralt lashes out in turn. They both say things they know will hurt, will dig claws in, will bleed. When she storms away, angry tears streaking down her face, she has one plan: pack up the tent and portal out of here.

The shouting that follows mere moments later is...not surprising, exactly, but the bard that stumbles into camp, eyes rimmed red and looking lost is, just a little. Yennefer watches him out of the corner of her eye as she flicks her wrist, using magic to get the tent to fold down small enough to fit in her bag.

Jaskier stumbles over to the lean-to he and Geralt should have shared last night and kind of...stares. One of the dwarves is breaking their camp not too far away, gives a shout of greeting which seems to jolt Jaskier back to the task at hand. He starts packing his bag, slow and methodical, his expression blank and distant.

Something sits wrong with Yennefer about it. She hates the bard, hates the attention he gets from Geralt, the way Geralt can't shut up about him in that quiet way of his, hates him for the competition he presents, even if she'd been winning. But seeing him like this, blank and silent, it's obvious he's upset and he's hurting and she can guess whose fault that is. And well. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

"Bard," she calls, pausing in her packing.

He jolts again, eyes passing over her only to slide away, expression vacant. "Sorry Yennefer, I--" he pauses, licks his lips, still crouched over his open bag, "I'm not up to par right now, I'm afraid. Perhaps we can do this later?" And oh, that's...upsetting. She's upset on his behalf which is just--

"I don't want to argue with you, Jaskier," she says, biting back the impulse to call him something less flattering. It gets his attention at least. His gaze drifts back over to her, settles.

"What could you possibly want, then?" he asks, voice soft. It's so defeated it hurts to even hear. It's the only reason she makes the offer she does.

"I'm leaving. Come with me." She's expecting some grand, overblown reaction. Instead, she gets a long stare, a slow blink in response.

"Why?"

"Because--" because he hurt you too, because if anyone understands this it's you, because I can't be alone, "--Geralt won't expect it. And you need as much of a break from him as I do." It's the truth, if only partly.

He looks...blank. It's unnerving--the bard is not meant to be still, to be quiet. "Okay," he says after an extended pause, no fanfare. There's not even a token protest. "I'll go with you."

They pack quickly after that. Yennefer finishes magically putting away her tent. Jaskier finishes packing his bag. He glances briefly at Geralt's things, expression gone vacant again.

"Jaskier," his attention slides back to her, slowly, "ready to go?"

He works his throat for a moment, no sound. "Yeah," he eeks out, "I just--"

"You don't owe him anything," she hisses, watching his gaze drift back over to Geralt's things, "we don't owe him anything."

"You're right," he sighs, closes his eyes. He doesn't ask where they're going when she opens the portal and she doesn't tell him.

They step out into her modest estate in Vengerberg, in the courtyard. She expects that now they have arrived, Jaskier will ask where they are. He doesn't. He just...stands there, looking lost. It’s irritating.

"Well, here we are," she prompts. Jaskier simply hums in response and it's too familiar--she's too raw. She snaps. "Are you going to fucking say something or are you going to stand there like a marionette for Militile's sake?"

He stares, eyes wide. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," she hisses, angry, "but if you're just going to mope you can leave." She doesn't care where the bard goes (except that maybe she does, just a little).

"Oh," he says, voice small. She sighs, forces herself to reign in her temper.

"Stay for the night, at least. If you're still--" she makes a vague gesture in his general direction that doesn't actually indicate anything, "--tomorrow, then you can go. But stay for today."

The silence is too thick. She thinks he'll reject her offer outright, but-- "okay," he says, nearly too quiet.

She sets him up in his own room, sends the house servants to check on him periodically, and tries to tell herself she doesn’t care whether he chooses to stay or go.

He's still there in the morning, looking a little more like himself, although his eyes are a little red again.

"Good morning, Yennefer, dear," he mumbles around a mouthful of sweet bread where he's perched at her dining table. She snorts.

"Sure," she huffs, stalking through to snatch the remaining sweet bread right from his plate. He frowns a little but doesn't argue it with her (not a good sign). They stare each other down as she nibbles delicately at the roll. "So--" she resents that he's making her ask, "--how are you doing?"

His expression doesn't shift from the pleasant blankness. "Fine."

"Bullshit, bard."

He sighs. "What do you want to hear, Yennefer?"

"The truth, for once," she tells him, point-blank. It feels a little like digging her nails into flesh, a little like picking at a raw wound. Whether she wants him to hurt or herself, she's not sure.

"What do you want me to say?"

"You love him," she accuses, angry. Those nails dig in a little deeper, draw blood, "and he'll never love you."

His expression doesn't shift, but his eyes look-- "yeah," he says, quiet, "I do." He doesn't dispute Geralt doesn't love him but doesn't acknowledge it, either.

"And he doesn't care," Yennefer continues, sweet bread forgotten. She wants to watch that blankness crack, "you love him and he doesn't return it, doesn't care, doesn't love you back. Why do you stay, Jaskier?"

"What else can I do?" he asks. It's infuriating.

"It hurts you, Jaskier. Why let him hurt you?" She finds she wants to understand. Love, the good kind, the kind she's always wanted, isn't supposed to hurt. Can't he understand?

The look he gives her is soft and sad. "You don't choose who you love, Yennefer. Sometimes--" he breaks off to stare at the empty plate before him, "--sometimes it doesn't last. Sometimes it never goes away."

"But it hurts you," she reiterates pointlessly, brow pinched in frustration.

"It does," he agrees, one hand pressed to his chest, "and we don't get to choose that, either." His smile is self-deprecating this time.

"Why does it have to hurt, Jaskier?" She's horrified to find fresh tears brimming in her eyes. She turns away, tries to tamp down on the surge of pain in her chest. Jaskier sits, silent. "I hate him," she whispers, "fuck, I hate him."

Behind her, the chair scrapes noisily across the flagstones as he pushes away from the table to cross the room, awkwardly pat at her shoulder. "It always hurts," he murmurs, "you get used to it."

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

They don't talk about Geralt after that, although he lingers in every conversation, unspoken. He loves Yennefer. He doesn't love Jaskier. Yennefer hates that her choice was taken from her, that she seems to love him anyway. Jaskier is resigned to scraps of affection, always no better than second best. All of it makes her righteously furious to think about, so she doesn't (except, of course, she does).

Jaskier doesn't ask about leaving and she doesn't ask him to go again, after the first afternoon. It's...good. To have someone around that understands. Because he does, even though they don't talk about it.

They establish a routine. Jaskier spends hours in her library, reading and composing and singing. She spends her day in the workroom. They meet in the kitchen for lunch, have an informal dinner in the dining room, spend evenings together around the hearth of her sitting room.

At some point, she stops thinking of him as insufferably annoying and only amusing, wonders if this is how Geralt thinks of him, wonders if he feels fond the way she does, sometimes, when Jaskier is more himself.

It would be easier if she loved him. Jaskier is so kind, so good, even when she doesn't deserve it. He gives as good as he gets, but he's never cruel, not the way she can be. How could Geralt have ever looked at him, held his heart in his hands, and turned him away? Jaskier deserves good, deserves better than Geralt, better than Yennefer. Destiny has been viciously unfair to the bard, setting him between the two of them, a willing target for their joint suffering, their joint pain.

And yet he smiles, he sings, he refuses to leave. Maybe she does understand Geralt, a little. And Jaskier, too, maybe. If you love it enough, you let it go. She needs to practice letting go.

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

It's really only a matter of time before Geralt shows up--he's been to Yennefer's Vengerberg estate before. The house servants let him in, leave him in her receiving room (not the library, not anymore. That's Jaskier's space).

"Geralt," she says, voice carefully void of emotion. She's angry, gods is she angry, but he looks...bad. The circles under his eyes, always prominent, are deep, dark bruises. He's a little too thin, a little too gaunt. He looks haunted.

"Yen," he says, voice rough, like he hasn't spoken for weeks (he likely hasn't).

"What do you want? You know I want nothing to do with you." She's not sure about that, really, but when she says it, it feels true. She doesn't want to see him, doesn't want anything to do with him. It's not that she loves him less, per se. She still feels whatever this is in her chest. She just...finds she doesn't quite trust it, doesn't want to indulge it. They've only ever hurt each other. She wants to stop hurting so, so badly.

"I know," he says, sounding tired, "Yen, I know, but--" he breaks off, sucks in a breath like he's steeling himself for a fight, "--I need your help."

She laughs.

"I know, I know. I don't deserve to even ask--"

"No, you don't," she says, voice like razor wire, vicious. He keeps going.

"--but I can't find him Yen. I've looked everywhere and I can't find him. I can't--" his voice breaks and he ducks his head, hides his face. She doesn't feel like laughing anymore. He soldiers on after a moment, voice wavering, "If he's gone and it's my fault, Yen, I--"

"Geralt." Her chest aches, painfully. This is what Jaskier's felt, for years, she thinks. This aching, creeping pain as she realizes that Geralt isn't here for her, despite his wish, despite how he’s tied them together. He's looking for Jaskier. Maybe she's had him wrong all this time.

"Please," he says, turns his eyes back towards her again. He looks hollowed out, like there's nothing behind that gaze. "I know I fucked up with you both, Yen. But please."

She thinks about lying. If Geralt doesn't believe Jaskier alive any longer, he'll leave the bard in peace, give him the opportunity to start to heal, to move on. Gods know Jaskier can't do that on his own. She wants to. The selfish part of her thinks if she can keep him long enough, Jaskier might love her that strongly, that fiercely, after a time.

She knows that's another lie, but she does entertain it, for a moment.

The other thing, of course, is choice. She's had her own choice of who to love ripped from her. Could she do that to Jaskier?

"Have a seat," she sighs, "I'll be back."

"Yen--"

"I said," she snaps, "I'll be back. Sit. Don't make me say it again." He sits. She leaves.

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

"He what?"

"He's worried you're dead, apparently," she says, feigning disinterest as she examines her nails.

"And you just--" he waves his arms about for emphasis, "didn't say anything and left?" His tone is incredulous.

She purses her lips and qirks an eyebrow--isn't that what I just said?

"Fuck. Yeah, yes, okay. Um."

"Breathe, Jaskier."

He takes a quick, shallow breath, something edging close to hyperventilating. "Fuck, okay, I'll talk to him."

"You don't have to," she says. Don't leave me she thinks.

"No, I do," he sighs, leans forward to catch her hand in his. A few months ago she would have turned him into a beetle for that. Now-- "Don't look so sad, Yen, darling."

"Shut up, bard." He's going to leave, like everyone else. Let go.

"I'm not going anywhere yet," he says, like he's the one who can read minds here.

"You don't have to stay," she shakes her head, pulls her hand back, too gentle.

"I know."

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

"Here," Yennefer waves behind herself dismissively as she reenters the room. Geralt sits up straighter. Behind her, Jaskier bounces a little anxiously on the balls of his feet.

"Fuck," he mumbles when he catches sight of Geralt over her shoulder, "you didn't say he looked so bad."

"Thought that was a given," she answers without looking. Geralt's gone very, very still.

"Yen--"

"He's been here since we left," she answers before he can ask. She can see him swallow from across the room. They’re eyeing each other, something in Geralt’s gaze she’s never seen before. It reaches into her chest and twists. "I'll leave you to it."

She leaves. No one stops her.

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

Jaskier is the one to come find her, after.

"He said you didn't want to see him again," he says as he settles into the chair opposite her. She's been--not hiding, she wouldn't call it hiding--in her study since she left them alone about an hour ago now.

"I don't," she agrees.

"You still love him, though," he says, soft and understanding. She puts the book she's been trying to distract herself with down, looks directly into his eyes.

"I do. I still don't know how real it is."

"Yen--"

"It doesn't matter. We're--" she cuts him off, shakes her head, "we're not good for each other, Jaskier."

"And he and I are any better?" he asks quietly. His words cut, draw blood. She's had the thought before herself.

"You deserve better," she tells him, eyes averted as she stares into the hearth fire.

"Aw, you do care," he coos, soft. Then, a lot more seriously, "you deserve better too, Yennefer."

She shrugs one shoulder, dismissive. "I do," she answers faintly. It isn't convincing even to her own ears.

"Yen--"

"I want someone to need me," she says, thinking back to what she told Geralt, on the mountain. Before things fell apart. "More than anything."

"That's why--" he trails off, doesn't finish. They both know what he means.

"Yes."

"You don't have to have a child to be needed, Yen. I've needed you, this whole time. You know that, don't you?"

"And now you don't," she says, trying not to sound bitter. He’s leaving, like everyone else. Found something better. They both are, this time. (It hurts, gods does it never stop hurting?)

"No," Jaskier shakes his head, gently, "just what I need is different."

"And what do you need now, bard?" She twists to face him fully, expression hard. She doesn't appreciate his lies.

"I need you to be there, when Geralt inevitably fucks up again. To listen. To talk to." It's not the same, but-- "I do love you, Yen."

"You're awful," she tells him, eyes downturned. There's a warm feeling surging in her chest, something tender and delighted, licking warmth melting the cold ice feeling of dread. He believes what he’s telling her--it’s the truth.

"I love you too," he smiles, eyes bright. "Are we good?"

She sucks in a deep breath. "We're good, bard." The smile that lights his face is radiant, perfect. In another universe, she might have loved him, the same way she might have loved Geralt, untainted by the djinn wish. The difference is that this is still clean, untouched by magic. It's not the deep, romantic love she's longed for since she was a child, but it's milder, truer. She believes him in a way she's never quite believed anyone else before.

If you love it, let it go. He may be leaving, but he'll be back.

#witcher #witcher fic #lizard writes

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mochegato · 4 years

Text

Pixie Spy

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open after only a few hours of sleep. It wasn’t enough, but she hadn’t gotten enough sleep in years. At this point, she didn’t think her body would let her sleep a healthy amount, it was too programmed to go without. One day, after they defeated Hawkmoth and she had moved away from Paris, she was going to sleep for a week… after she cried for two weeks straight, or maybe she would alternate the two. She was going to buy the plushest bed she could afford, or likely Adrien could afford since she barely had enough money to cover groceries, and sleep in every single day in that bed.

Until then, rest was minimal and often, like last night, fitful to say the least. She had tried to calm down enough to sleep comfortably, but calming down actually seemed to be part of the problem. To make up for the adrenaline of the night before wearing off and her body calming, her mind started racing. With no immediate threats to deal with, anxiety was setting in and taking over, coming up with new and better things to worry about because fuck you, that’s why. Anxiety needs no reason. It certainly never had for her.

She quietly slid out of bed careful not to move too quickly and accidentally wake up Adrien or the kwamis. She walked out onto the balcony seeking the morning sun on her face, hoping the new day’s light might bring her some peace. She stared out at the morning colors blending from pink to orange to yellow to varying variants of blue. She scanned over the gorgeous colors until her mind caught on one particular shade of blue, reminding her of bright blue eyes filled with concern and determination.

She twisted to face away from the sky and lean against the balcony grabbing it tightly and relaxing her grip over and over again. He said he wanted to help and she wanted to let him, which was ridiculous because he was Red Hood. He was the most violent of Gotham’s vigilantes. She didn’t know too much about the bats, that was Alya’s area, but she knew at least that much. He was the last one they should trust to help. So why was she still questioning it? Why did she feel like she could trust him? Her instincts on people were usually good, but he made her mind go haywire and she didn’t trust herself to be impartial when it came to him.

“Argggg” she groaned running her hands over her face and fisting her hands in her hair. Everything felt wrong. She needed something to distract her anxiety so it wouldn’t take over completely and drag her down into a never-ending cycle of could-have and should-have and why-didn’t-I’s. More accurately, she needed to hit something, a lot and hard. She quietly changed into workout gear and quickly wrapped up her hands and feet before padding over to the sparring area. She stalked over to the dummy glaring at it like it was the cause of all of her problems. She started practicing as she ran through the prominent events from her previous night.

“You don’t seem excited to be here.” Jab.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Jab. Jab.

“I’m Jason.” Jab. Hook.

“Wanna Dance?” Jab. Cross. Hook.

“Was the occasion to look stunning?” Jab. Jab. Palm strike. Knee.

“You’re Jason Todd.” Hook. Punch. Jab. Punch. Uppercut.

“I have to go.” Jab. Elbow strike. Palm strike.

“Are you okay?” Double side punch. Elbow strike.

“I can help.” Kick. Knee. Kick.

“You left some valuable details out.” Side kick. Straight cross. Jab. Jab. Jab.

“You wanted me to meet the Waynes.” Jab. Jab. Right hook.

“You’re still a kid, you should have fun.” Double side punch. Crescent kick.

“I don’t enjoy Hell. DO NOT make me go back.” Jab. Hook kick. Straight cross.

“Change your mind?” Jab. Left hook. Crescent kick.

“Your life is supposed to be more than the fucking suit.” Palm strike. Elbow strike. Hook kick.

“Dramatic much?” Punch. Punch. Front kick leading to a back flip.

“That rule needs to be finessed.” Uppercut. Uppercut. Jab. Right hook.

“He can help.” Side kick. Elbow strike. Crescent kick. Jab.

“You kids really do need help.” Double side punch. Uppercut. Left hook.

“You won’t be able to move on.” Elbow strike. Jab. Uppercut.

“Think about what I said.” Knee. Palm strike. Jab.

“I can help.” Uppercut. Uppercut. Left hook. Right hook.

“I can help.” Hammer fist. Side kick. Knife hands. Back kick.

“I can help.” Roundhouse Kick. Jumping downward punch.

She let the velocity of the punch to carry her to the floor. She landed in a crouch and collapsed to her hands and knees panting for breath, sweat dripping on the floor pads. Instead of helping clear her head, the practice had just made everything worse. God, she was too tired to deal with this. She was too tired to think and this anxiety induced doubt was giving her a headache. She needed to think clearly, but she was too tired to think clearly, and until they defeated Hawkmoth she wouldn’t be able to get the sleep she so desperately needed, so… round and round she’d go, where she’d stop not even Hawkmoth knew.

She fought the flinch that wanted appear when she heard shuffling near her and glanced up just enough to notice bare feet and the bottoms of Adrien’s pajamas as he crouched next to her. He had turned sneaking up on her into a game and despite knowing he wasn’t trying to do that this time, she refused to give him that win. “Hey Marinette, you okay?” Adrien asked gently, his voice laced with concern as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

Marinette nodded but continued looking down at the mat instead of at him, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to talk about the doubts her anxiety was pushing. The logical part of her brain knew that talking about her doubts would help her figure out what was really a concern and what was just the anxiety, which is exactly what she needed. But the illogical part of her brain, the part that anxiety had dominion over, thought that if she didn’t talk about it, she would be able to pretend like it never existed, that it would all dissolve like one of Alya’s illusions. And the illogical side knew that if she spoke her feelings out loud, that would speak them into existence, making them impossible to box up and bury somewhere until she was better equipped to ignore it, like after she died. And the illogical part knew if she had to confront all her doubts right now she would die.

As is often the case, the illogical part of her brain was far more persuasive than the logical part, offering the comfort of avoidance rather than the terror of confrontation the logical part was pushing. But then again, Adrien always had a way of quieting the illogical part without even trying. All of her friends did.

“You want to talk about it? Or just want to keep imagining the dummy is Constantine and continue to beat the shit out of it?” Adrien prompted her with a gentle smile. She looked up at him as she stood back up on shaky legs.

She shook her head, “I’m wasn’t. I’m still deciding how upset I am with Constantine. I mean, we knew it was coming. I wasn’t expecting him to make us waste two weeks so he could do it though.” She growled bitterly as she grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and walked over to bench next to the sparring mat. She sat and let her breathing slow for a moment before continuing on.

“Don’t get me wrong. I was FURIOUS when I thought he did it to avoid an ex… and fuck, I might still be. I’m too tired to tell anymore.” She gave a tired sigh and ran her hand through her hair that was now plastered to her face. “But that’s not why he did it. He saw where we were going to end up and the asshole wanted to redirect us. He did it to protect us. And I… I would have done the same so… I don’t know. It seems like that should make a difference.”

“We are not fucking children. We don’t need that motherfucker protecting us. We know what we are doing and we are handling it just fine. There is no immediate threat that warranted that.” Adrien growled. He gave her a wicked smile, “And I am never too tired to be a vindictive dick.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’ve been spending too much time with Felix.” She looked away and gave a humorless chuckle. “Honestly? I expected it to be worse. I prepared for so much worse. I’m relieved this is all it was. I expected him to go directly to the Justice League or one of the other groups he works with and say something like ‘Hey, don’t go to Paris for… reasons. And don’t bring your full armory.’ Get them all involved. And that was if he didn’t just straight out tell them about what is going on.”

Adrien glared at her, “Seriously? He knew we didn’t want them involved and he did it anyway. He got them involved. We trusted him and he broke his promise to us. I don’t care why he did it or if it could have been worse, he did it.”

“But he didn’t break his promise,” she noted tiredly. “He orchestrated all of that for us so he wouldn’t break it… He bent his word just enough to keep from breaking it and making it unforgivable. But he still left us in control and is letting us make the decision for what happens next. He didn’t completely fuck us over and he easily could have.”

“We,” he motioned between them to indicate the two of them, “have very different definitions of unforgivable. He didn’t keep his word. He did betray us. He manipulated us and the situation to bring in the Justice League. He did exactly what we told him not to do. He ignored our decision so he could take away control. We don’t control this, he caused it. And on top of everything else, we wasted two weeks so he could betray us. He could have at least had the decency to betray us without wasting our time.”

She shook her head, “No, he moved one piece in the sequence. One piece that allows the option to follow our current path OR choose a new one. We define the new path. It is up to us to decide if we will redirect the pieces back to the original path or let the new sequence take effect.”

“This is not dominoes.”

“It is. Dominoes, the butterfly effect, whatever you want to call it, that’s life. That’s everything that happens in our lives, everyone’s lives. One change now changes what happens in the future. You know that. And if you need a reminder, I’m sure Alix would be more than willing to go over it with you, how one decision changes everything. It is her job to identify the piece that will make the sequence turn out ideally.” Adrien growled at that but glanced away. She continued, “But he’s letting us decide to accept the help or not. He’s letting us decide the next move. He made his move, now it’s our turn.”

“So you’re just going to forgive him? Let him off for lying to us, manipulating us, allowing Paris to suffer while he played his little game of dominoes?” Adrien accused, voice rising as he did.

Marinette sighed deeply, looking down at nothing in particular, “No, I just… I guess I’m too tired to fight this particular fight. You are welcome to though. I won’t stop you from hanging him over the side of the building for a while. But, yeah… the time. The lost time. And the last few weeks were…” she paused letting out another long sigh, looking up to the ceiling and hitting her head gently on the wall as she remembered the events of the last few weeks, “well they would have happened regardless, but…” she tapered off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“But the oncoming ones might not have to happen and you know with the way akumas and amoks have been going lately, they will probably be just as bad.” Adrien fumed.

He looked over to her as he vented and finally noticed how tired she looked. He studied her closely. She looked like she had relaxed but he knew her well enough to know her tells, the slight tension in her shoulders, the minute tightening around her eyes, the slightly strained smile that nobody who didn’t know her would think was anything less than sincere.

He was still upset with Constantine and he was definitely going to have a discussion with him next time he saw him, a discussion that involved a few of the moves Marinette had demonstrated on the dummy earlier. But his anger wasn’t helping Marinette and that was the primary focus for him. “But until then, we need to focus on preparing for the aftermath of Constantine’s intervention.”

“I’m not worried, it’s just Batman. We can handle him,” she gave him a smile that was meant to reassure but didn’t have the emotion behind it. “Thank God it isn’t the rest of them. Honestly, this is the best case scenario. It’s just the bats and now we know their real identities. That is going to massively enhance our intel on them. We can discover Bruce Wayne’s pressure points as well as Batman’s, and use them to get him to back off.”

Adrien nodded, “A project for Alya and Chloe. We can let them know when they come over later.” He noted she still hadn’t really relaxed. Her shoulders and smile still tense, so the Constantine issue wasn’t what was causing her to feel so distressed. “So, if this impromptu session isn’t about Constantine… Did something else happen last night? Was it that bad?”

She suddenly looked far more tired than she was a few moments before, her shoulders lowering into a slump. “No, the night was amazing actually,” she said quietly.

“So what's the problem? Why were you in here working out your frustrations instead of sleeping?”

“Because it was so amazing,” she sighed defeated. Logical finally defeated illogical as she started dumping everything she was feeling onto Adrien. “Because it was great. I was having fun and I really wanted to stay there. It made me want to have more. But I can't have that. We can't have that,” she motioned between the two of them. “We can't even leave Paris,” she chuckled bitterly. “It was just a reminder that we’re stuck.”

“You know, we had the horse miraculous. You could go someplace else for school and then come back when you need to.” Adrien offered halfheartedly. He knew this argument. They’d had it enough to know she was right. She wouldn’t give in and neither would he. Neither of them would abandon the other to escape alone. They were both stuck. They didn’t really have any options until they defeated Hawkmoth. But it still felt good to say it out loud, pretend like they did. Sometimes it was her offering the escape options, sometimes it was him. But they both knew that neither of them would accept it.

“But then only one of us gets to escape and I’m not leaving you behind,” she looked him in the eye with a determined look to make sure he understood how serious he was. When he nodded at her letting her know he understood, she looked away to look at nothing. “I just, I feel like I can't move. Every move I make is wrong. I’m confined. I can’t do anything. Neither one of us can do anything. I can’t study fashion, you can’t study teaching. We can’t start our future. Hawkmoth won't let us. He’s keeping us right here, in this moment in time and we can’t break out of it.” She said tugging gently on her hair as she spoke. “And last night just reminded me of that. That I’m stuck here, that my priority isn’t me, can’t be me or my future… my happiness.”

He ran his hands over her shoulders and upper arms trying to bring her focus back to him, speaking in calm tones to ground her, “That’s what this whole thing was about though, wasn’t it? Why we let the bastard help in the first place… to tip the balance, to end this, to break out.” He smiled gently at her again continuing with the well-established script of this conversation.

“You know, if you can’t study fashion right now, maybe you can delay it. You can keep doing commissions and bulking up your portfolio,” she opened her mouth to object but he beat her to it, already knowing her response. “I could help you financially until this all is over. You could move in with me so you don’t have to pay rent. I can get an apartment with an extra room and an office you can use… and I can buy the groceries. You wouldn’t have to pay for anything. And when we defeat him, then you can go to school.”

“I’m not taking your money, Kitty. And your father would blow a gasket and probably cut you off unless you kicked me out.”

“I have money saved and I don't want to work there anyway. It's not my legacy. And we could get married, like I said before. Then he couldn’t object. And that way you’re not taking my money, you’re sharing it with me and you’d be my next of kin and have full access to my money whenever you needed it instead of having to ask me for everything. And yeah, we would kill each other after a few months, but it would be a lot of fun to pretend for a while.” He waggled his eyebrows at her making her laugh. “I could support you. We could be happy… you know, for a while.”

“You think getting married would make your dad less likely to lash out and destroy both your happiness and my future?” She chuckled at him and looked off through the balcony doors, voice becoming wistful, “Even if he wasn’t an obstacle, you deserve to find someone that will make you really happy. Longer than I would. Someone you truly love. Someone that will make you feel safe and loved and valued with just a look. Someone that looks at you like you’re the most important person in the world. Someone who’s world lights up just by being near you. Someone who lights up your world. Someone who makes you feel like they would walk happily to the ends this world and the next to keep you safe,” she gave a small grin, “you know, someone who looks at you like Plagg looks at cheese.”

He watched her as she studied something in the sky, eyes glassy with unshed tears, hands twisting around each other, and regret lacing her expression. “That guy really got to you didn’t he?”

She looked back at him surprised. “Yeah,” she breathed out, looking back at the sky, “which is stupid because I only knew him for like an hour and I won’t ever see him again, except to kick him out of Paris whenever they come here. I should just move on but… everything is stupid. I’m stupid.”

He nodded, “Maybe,” he started until he felt the punch to his shoulder.

“The fuck Chaton!” Marinette exclaimed. “This is your pep talk? You need to work on your motivation thing. Triangle, bitch, study.”

He doubled over laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him. It took a few minutes before he could calm down and his expression turned soft again. “I meant maybe you should move on because you barely know him, BUT I think sometimes you just know that someone is going to have a huge impact on your life. We knew it when we met. You knew it when you met Alya. I knew it when I met Nino. Maybe your instincts are telling you something your anxiety doesn’t want to hear. Your instincts have always been right and they’ve only gotten stronger. I trust them.” He paused to give her the most sincere look he could, “I trust you. You should, too.”

Marinette smiled at him eyes shining with gratitude, “I love you, you goofball.”

“I know. I love you too,” he said with a smug smile. “Is that a yes to getting married?”

“You know, there is absolutely no reason we would have to get married. We could just be roommates.”

“Yeah, but I really, really want to see the look on my Dad’s face if we did. Do you think he would have an aneurism?” she rolled her eyes and shoved him away.

“Oh my god, what ancient, vindictive god did I piss off to end up with you in my life?”

“Plagg, it had to be Plagg” Adrien said giggling.

He pulled her in for a tight hug but jumped back from her. “Oh ew gross. You’re still sweaty. Go take a shower and then take a nap. The others won’t be here for a few hours. You have time,” he shoved her away to get cleaned up before the rest of their team appeared for a debriefing on the mission. “Also, I am absolutely telling Chloe and Alya about the boy if you don’t.”

She glared at him “You wouldn’t” she hissed at him.

“Oh I would and will. I’m not dealing with either of them if they find out I knew and didn’t tell them.”

“You better watch it, Kitty. I’ll take you up on that marriage offer and make your life absolutely fucking miserable.” She lobbed her water bottle at him, getting up to take a shower.

<><><><><>

A few hours later after a peaceful but still too short nap, Alya and Nino joined Marinette and Adrien in the Base to hang out and do a post mortem on the night before. They were snacking and chatting idly about the week to come, enjoying the kind of relaxed atmosphere they hadn’t been allowed for the past few weeks while they had planned for the gala mission, the discussion of which they were intentionally avoiding until Chloe could get there. They were in the middle of discussing Nino’s upcoming nightclub gig when Marinette’s phone started ringing. Seeing Chloe’s name pop up on the screen, Marinette answered and put the phone on speaker, “Hey Chlo, what’s up? You on your way up.”

Marinette jerked back and nearly dropped the phone at Chloe’s shriek, “What the hell did you do at that gala, Dupain-Cheng?”

Adrien’s face split into a giddy grin and he yelled back from his spot in a nearby chair, “No one yet, but give her and that Wayne kid a few days and that may change.” Marinette spluttered before glaring at him.

“Chaton…” she gritted out threateningly.

“Dupain-Cheng bagged a Wayne?” Chloe shrieked even louder, making Marinette bring her hands up to plug her ears and wiggle them around trying to get the sudden ringing to stop.

“Wait what?! Why aren’t we talking about this already?” Alya gasped offended that she didn’t already know all the details.

“No I haven't... we didn’t… I didn’t bag anything.” Marinette corrected with a glare to Adrien.

“Don’t worry Dudette, I have faith in you,” Nino offered with both finger guns and a sarcastic grin. “You will.” Marinette stuck her tongue out and threw a handful of chips at him in retaliation.

“Bitch, I TOLD you what would happen if you wore that dress and those shoes. Do not EVER doubt me again. I am a goddamned Godsend to you people. You don’t deserve my presence let alone my guidance in your lives.” Chloe sneered haughtily.

Marinette rolled her eyes trying to keep a straight face as Alya silently mocked Chloe. Nino was having a significantly less successful time, his muffled giggles bubbling out from behind the pillow he was holding over his face. “Okay, you’re a gift from the gods, now what happened?” Marinette inquired.

“The manager just told me the Waynes called this morning to book the rest of the penthouse suites on our floor for a week starting tomorrow.” Chloe hissed. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your illicit activities last night would it?” Marinette could feel Chloe’s raised eyebrow and the hand on her cocked hip through the phone. “Or I guess maybe it was your more licit activities that got their interest.”

“Fuuuuuck, we have until tomorrow then,” she groaned and looked over to Adrien with a cringe.

“We have until tomorrow for what? What the hell happened? What did you do? Wait, did Lady Luck get lucky?” Alya asked grinning at the impending chaos.

Marinette huffed and threw chips at her too, “Back off, Als. Your Trixx is showing.” Trixx floated up next to her chosen and smiled, patting her on the head. “And proud of you, Kit.” Alya grinned from the praise as though it didn’t prove Marinette’s point.

“See, I knew my faith in you was justified,” Nino grinned at Marinette.

“Nino, I have more chips and I’m not afraid to use them,” Marinette threatened.

“Whatever, I’m coming right up. Don’t you dare tell that story until I get there. And pick up any chips you threw Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe ordered, hanging up before Marinette could respond.

As soon as the call ended, Alya turned to Marinette eagerly, “Okay, she’s off the phone, now spill.”

“I’m not spilling anything until Chloe gets here. I’m not dealing with Pissed Off Chloe,” Marinette deferred. It was a convenient excuse and gave her time she needed to figure out how to phrase things so she didn’t have to admit more than they absolutely needed to know. And absolutely NOT discuss Jason. There were far more significant issues to discuss, less handsome, but more significant.

“Okay, while we wait for her to get here, tell me one thing,” Alya interrupted her plotting to stare her down, “did you or did you not have to enact the Escape Plan version of your dress?”

Marinette groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. She had a feeling she was going to be doing that a lot during the upcoming conversation. “Do we have alcohol? Is it too early to start drinking?” she gave Adrien a pleading look.

“Yes it is and yes she did,” Adrien interjected.

“Shit,” Nino whispered. “That can’t be good. Maybe you should rethink that alcohol ban, dude.” He patted Marinette’s knee comfortingly. “Did you at least get the files we were hoping for?”

“Yeah. We at least got that out of last night,” Marinette said with a tired smile. “I’ll start working on the translation today, see how worth it the mission was.”

Before anyone could respond, the suite door slammed open and shut again as Chloe stormed in. “What the fuck, Dupain-Cheng?”

“Oh good, she’s here,” Alya jumped in. “Chloe sit your prissy ass down so we can start.”

“Excuse you, I believe you meant sit my amazingly toned, prissy ass down, thank you very much.” Chloe huffed, plopping down on top of Alya.

“Clearly what I meant, sweet cheeks,” she waggled her eyebrows at Chloe who rolled her eyes in response. “Now get if off me. I’m not a chair,” Alya complained, unceremoniously dumping Chloe on the floor and completely ignoring her offended squawk before she moved to sprawl across an arm chair instead. “Okay Chloe’s here, now spill.”

“I will,” not if she could help it she wouldn’t, “but first we need to brace for Batman and the batfamily to arrive in Paris.” Marinette warned them, not at all trying to deflect the conversation.

“What do you mean Batman? How did he find out?” Nino asked confused.

Marinette huffed out a sigh, looking up to the ceiling for inspiration. With Alya’s interruption she hadn’t had time to think of what to say. What was the least incriminating way to say what happened without flat out lying? “They saw us in the cave, or rather there was surveillance which I’m sure they were monitoring. They had to have heard Constantine talking to me. He didn’t say anything specific, but enough. Enough for them to know something is happening here.” Adrien gave her a deadpan look and raised an unamused eyebrow at her. She narrowed her eyes back at him and wrinkled her nose in defiance. She wasn’t going there unless she had to and so far, she didn’t have to. They were going to have to drag her into that conversation kicking and screaming.

“What does that have to do with Bruce Wayne?” Chloe asked annoyed by the seeming non-sequitur.

“Bruce Wayne is Batman.” Adrien said.

“Fuck! NO WAY! Really?” Nino yelled excitedly, “Dude, that is so cool!”

“No wonder Batman has so many gadgets, he has his company and billions of dollars make them.” Alya reasoned. “God, how did nobody figure that out before? Of course he is, where else would he get all those vehicles and gadgets?”

“Right,” Adrien said nodding solemnly to them, “so, we’re going to need you two,” he said indicating Alya and Chloe, “to do a workup on them, both sides of the mask. I know you already know everything there is to know about the Bats, Alya, but now we know their real identities which means you can do the same for the Waynes, or at least you and Chloe can. The rest of us don’t need to know the details, at least not yet. Right now, we just need to know what their pressure points are, their weaknesses, what makes them tick, what drives them, what scares them, and what makes them go haywire. They’re coming here for a confrontation. We want to make this a onetime thing and we need to know the buttons to push to make that happen.”

“On it. I’ll start compiling information and get the start of it to you tonight so you can start the profile,” she nodded toward Chloe giving her a sly wink before she turned back to Adrien with an exaggerated innocent expression, “… but I have a ton of calculus I need to get done for school tomorrow, too. I’ll need your help for that, Sunshine.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “That worked out conveniently for you. Were you hoping something would come up and that’s why you waited to do it?”

She shrugged, the mask of false innocence starting to falter as she struggled to contain a smug grin, “Maybe. And the fact that something always comes up when you two are involved has absolutely no bearing on this conversation.”

“Are you going to make me do your physics homework too?” he snarked back at her.

“…physics homework?” Nino exclaimed.

“Oooh, yeah, what did you get for number 13 on that? I spent an hour and couldn’t figure it out.” Chloe asked. “Got the criminal psych homework done though if anyone needs it.”

“Don’t need that but I will take you up on that physics homework offer, Sunshine. Thanks for volunteering.” Alya responded with a smirk.

Marinette rubbed her temples, “It’s like herding cats,” she muttered to herself.

“Want me to try the same thing with them that Tikki and I did to the cat?” Trixx asked with a grin, suddenly appearing at her shoulder, munching on a piece of fruit as they did lazy summersaults in the air.

“No, that would just distract them more. Plus if they aren’t pursuing the Jason thing, I’m not going to push it.” She sighed at the kwami before closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch, making her miss the kwami smirking and floating over to whisper something in Alya’s ear.

“Yes, let’s get back to the immanent bat invasion,” Alya fixed Marinette with a wicked grin. “Let’s start with you bagging a bat. Does that have anything to do with them coming?”

Marinette groaned and hit her head on the back of the couch. She glanced over at Alya to find both her and Trixx looking at her with matching devious expressions. She glowered at Trixx and muttered “Traitor” none too quietly, which only made Trixx’s grin widen. She tried to come up with a way to redirect them to something else. Anything else at this point. “Not the part I wanted to focus on…” she started only to be interrupted by Chloe.

“Oh, I’m sure. But it’s definitely what we want more details on Dupain-Cheng. Because as I recall, your goal was to NOT get noticed. And yet, a few hours later, here we are with reservations for an entire floor… almost, by the very people who were not supposed to notice you. Not that we don’t appreciate the revenue,” Chloe admonished with no heat behind it.

“They deserve to hear the rest.” Adrien shrugged at her, a smug smile pulling at his lips.

“Nothing happened,” Marinette exclaimed.

“But she wanted it to,” Adrien singsonged with a smile. Marinette threw the rest of her bowl of chips at him. “Not helping, Chaton.” She growled at him.

“Depends on which side you’re on,” he smirked.

“Bitch, I did not let you borrow my Jimmy Choo’s to NOT hear details,” Chloe demanded. “You somehow ended up with a Wayne, and you got their attention enough for the entire family to drop everything and come running. I want to know every sordid detail. If there aren’t any make them up. I want dirty!”

Alya shot her a concerned look, “You okay fam?”

Chloe huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, “No, but whatever. I’ll deal with that later myself.”

“Oh god, Chloe. Could you not! I already had to listen to Constantine. I don’t need you adding to my nightmares tonight.” Adrien objected.

“You couldn’t handle me, sweetie,” she sneered at him. “But, let’s focus on Marinette honeypotting a Wayne.”

She sputtered, “I did not honeypot him. I… I have no idea what that is, but that is NOT what I did,” she defended herself before giving into her curiosity, “What is honey potting?”

“It’s when… Holy shit, Chloe,” Adrien realized, shocked. He started laughing loudly. “You’re a genius. You don’t even know anything that happened and you still figured out that’s exactly what Constantine did.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Adrikins. I have skills.” Chloe boasted confidently. “Marinette?”

“Are you interested in the honeypot thing or me almost breaking a man’s wrist for trying to stick it up my skirt?” Marinette offered instead.

“… uh, yeah that one. I want to hear about that.” Nino answered, suddenly much more concerned about the night.

“So…” Marinette started. But before she could get more than that out Chloe interrupted her, “Those skills include noting when a conversation has been redirected. You were about to discuss your honeypotting experience, Marinette.”

Marinette groaned. She was so close to getting away with it. So very close. Damn Chloe. “I want it noted for the record that I still don’t know what that word means. And the wrist thing really did happen.” She eyed Chloe and Adrien before continuing, “I needed cover to get into a better position to watch the Waynes…” she glared at a cackling Adrien who was being spurred on by Plagg grumbling “needed” while Tikki tried to shush them. “SO,” she announced over them, “I danced with someone who was definitely not one of the people we went over in our meetings. There was no briefing on him and I know because I sure as fuck would have remembered. I mentioned a supervillain to him because I was stupid and not thinking and commiserating about living in a city with supervillains. I didn’t think it would get back to Batman. I didn’t think there was any way it could. What are the odds? But I forgot my luck outside of the suit.” She glared at Tikki who winced.

“Luck doesn’t always give you what you think you need. It is about the right person getting the right thing at the exact right time.” Tikki said carefully. Marinette rolled her eyes.

“It never gives me what I think I need. Never, not once have I actually gotten like, a hammer when I needed to break something open to get to an akuma. Noooo, I get a leaf of lettuce that I have to use in addition to 19 more steps in order to get to the akumatized item. Meanwhile, this asshole,” she indicated Adrien who gave an offended scoff, “gets a screwdriver when we need to unscrew something. What is that about?”

“The path to your destiny is sometimes complicated,” Tikki offered weakly floating back slightly so she was behind Plagg and Wayzz. The latter of whom decided to risk his immortality by adding, “And often the trials on the journey to your destiny teach you exactly what you need in order to achieve it.” Marinette fixed him with a glare so potent the mini god slunk away, hiding behind Nino.

“Anyway,” Marinette turned her glare from Wayzz to look back at the humans in the room. “Turns out the dead Wayne son isn’t so dead. He’s very much alive and dancing at galas with women who were supposed to go undetected by the Waynes. AND he’s one of the bats. So the man I was commiserating with, the one I let my guard down for one moment to, was a bat. So now Bruce Wayne, Batman knows. Because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut for one fucking night.”

“Marinette, you okay? It doesn’t sound like nothing happened.” Nino asked gently moving to next to her and wrap an arm around her.

“Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen because he's an American vigilante, a bat, and a violent one who can't be allowed to stay here and I can't leave. So it doesn't matter if I had fun with him. It doesn't matter if we danced and flirted. It doesn't matter if he was handsome and charming and sweet and protective with a soft spot for kids. It doesn't matter if the way he looked at me made me feel happy and protected and lighter. Because I have to be here and he can't be.” Well shit she groaned to herself. That was significantly more than she meant to say. As it turns out, they didn’t have to drag her kicking and screaming into the conversation. They just had to give her room to saunter her own ass into it.

Alya scooted over to the other side of her and hugged her, “Oh, Marinette.”

“Until we take down Hawkmoth,” Nino nodded solemnly.

“Well that’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. We make an exception and let the one she wants to bang into the country.” Chloe scoffed as though it were the most obvious solution.

Marinette looked up at her in shock and chuckled lightly, “if that’s the requirement, we’ll have to let the oldest son into the country too so Adrien can get a shot at him.”

“No, you need it more than him. He can wait until we kick Hawkmoth’s ass.” She looked over at Adrien with only the slightest hint of sympathy “sorry Adrikins.”

“You only say that because you haven’t seen the oldest.”

“No, I have. He’ll still be there after we win. You can embarrass yourself in front of him then.”

Adrien pouted at her. “I could bag him. I have skills, too.”

“Sure you could Romeo,” Nino said getting up and patting Adrien on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s move this party to Chloe’s room. We can order lunch and start on the homework for Alya and Marinette.” Nino ushered them towards the door.

“Why the hell am I doing homework for Marinette?” Chloe groused.

“Oh right you weren’t here yet, Dudette. Marinette needs to start translating the files.” Nino explained, swinging an arm around Chloe’s shoulders.

“You guys go ahead, we’ll be right there,” Alya called out to them, reaching out to hold Marinette back.

Alya waited until they were gone before moving to sit on the armrest on the couch. She stared at Marinette seriously, “So, spill girl.”

“I already told you about the night. What more do you want?” Marinette asked defeated.

“No, you told them. Now tell me. There is speaking with friend honesty and then there is best friend honesty. I want the best friend honesty. What was your boy like?” she prompted Marinette. Marinette looked so defeated. She needed Marinette to remember the more fun parts of the night, the parts that reminded them that they were still teenagers under their suits and responsibilities. She wanted to get Marinette’s mind off of the negative and what was to come, to focus on being happy for once, and tease out what impact this boy had on her best friend. Which, knowing her best friend, she was going to try to suppress for the safety of Paris. God, she hated Hawkmoth for so very many things but this was at the top of the list, the impact he had on everyone’s mentality, especially Marinette’s.

“Alya,” Marinette sighed, “I haven’t assessed him yet.”

“No! I want Marinette’s reaction not Ladybug’s.” Alya chided her.

“We’re the same person, Alya.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Yes but with different priorities and insights. I want Marinette’s insights. No guilt, no responsibilities, no angst, not what went wrong, not what you could have done better. Just the fun part, the teenage girl perspective. What. Was. He. Like?” she poked Marinette with her foot after each word to accentuate the question.

Marinette sighed again but Alya could see the glint of a smile on her lips as she thought through the night with him. The prominent details flashing in Marinette’s mind. “He was sweet. He was clever. Kind. Mischievous. He doesn’t like pretense. He likes blunt, honest. Knows how to handle himself. He stopped to help a kid, Alya, a kid. Really protective of kids. Respectful. Gentle. He has the most brilliant eyes and heartwarming smile and he focused on me the entire time, like nothing else mattered.” She looked off at nothing and cocked her head to the side. A sad expression suddenly appeared on her face. “He’s Red Hood, you know the scary one. But he was so gentle and sweet. How do I reconcile that?”

“No, I said no angst. We’re not reconciling anything right now. We’re not going to discuss that he stopped killing a while ago and that is why he is working with Batman.” She snuck into the conversation. As the group’s expert on superheroes, she could give Marinette a lengthy, highly detailed essay on each of the Bats, their history, and speculations about them, but she wasn’t ready to discuss Red Hood’s history with Marinette and Marinette wasn’t ready to hear it yet. She would go over it with Chloe later and they would distill it to the bare basics Marinette needed to know before facing them tomorrow. Today, they focus on the good. Tomorrow they focus on Paris. “Instead, we’re going to focus on the fact that he’s a good guy now who made you very happy for a while last night. So, what does this good guy look like?”

Marinette paused to consider what Alya had said. “Nope,” Alya threw a nearby pillow at her head, “not now. There will be plenty of time for that later, after you’ve gotten your work for tomorrow done, eaten something other than chips, and slept a human amount of time. Now. What. Does. He. Look. Like?” She poked Marinette with her foot after each word again to push her into answering.

Marinette grabbed her foot on the last word and glared at her. “God, why are you such a bitch?”

“You love me and if I don’t worry about you doing those things, you won’t do them. Now answer before I have to kick you again. I’ll do it.” Alya threatened with a mock glare, her foot raised slightly, ready to kick.

Marinette rolled her eyes and shoved her best friend’s foot back at her. She knew exactly what Alya was doing, it’s the same thing she does for her when Alya gets too caught up in a self-deprecating spiral, but she needed something to smile about so she went with it. She looked to the side, focusing on nothing while she tried to think of how to describe his looks. “Tall,” she nodded absentmindedly as she continued, “He was very tall with dark hair and blue eyes, a sharp jaw and broad shoulders. He had a shock of white hair at the front that was begging to be touched.” She absentmindedly touched her bangs in the same place his streak was and stared off into space with a dreamy look on her face. “He had this smile that made you weak in the knees. His eyes sparkled when he was talking to me until he discovered why I was there and then they were filled with such sincere concern that took your breath away.”

“He was that good looking, huh?” Alya asked with an amused raised brow.

“Come on Alya, it wasn't just the looks, the personality too,” Marinette admonished her.

“Right, right. Of course...” Alya nodded seriously, “but...” she prompted Marinette to continue.

“He was sexier than Adonis and Henry Cavill’s lovechild, with a personality to match.” Marinette said with a deadly serious expression.

Alya stared at her amused and opened her mouth to speak but Marinette continued, “One look melted ice the next town over.” Alya beamed at her excitement. “He is the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen, and one of my best friends is an actual supermodel who hangs out with other supermodels. And this ice meltingly sexy Advill lovechild looked at me like I made his life complete.”

“So you wanted to kiss him?” she teased her friend with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“I wanted to rip his clothes off with my teeth,” Marinette corrected.

Alya balked at the unexpected admission before doubling over with raucous laughter. Her laughter got louder as Marinette joined her. Alya gasped for air but she couldn’t catch her breath which made her laugh harder until she was laughing so hard she fell backwards off the armrest landing on the floor with a resounding thump, causing them both to laugh even harder.

Chapter 5

Tags:

@loveswifi @mystery-5-5 @dreamykitty25 @ira-sairain @wannajointhecrabcult @susiej1118 @our-preciousss @casual-darkness @ertyzeta @mandy984 @darkthunder1589 @chez-pezeater @emilytopaz @elements1999 @nik-nak-3 @mermaidreject @dramatic-squirrel @thenillabean @alysrose-starchild @phoenixperegrinebitch @nickristus-dreamer @goblinwhoships @no-username2544 @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @valeks-princess @2confused-2doanything @redscarlet95 @icebluedolphin2365 @inarachi02 @unrepentantgeek @maybe-nonsense @theymakeupfairies @smolplantmum @moongoddesskiana @thehufflepuffranger-blog @fusser90 @spyofthenightcourt @jayverca @animegirlweeb @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @consumeconstantly @lozzybowe @novicevoice @random-fandoms7 @acoolspacegirl @laurcad123 @dast218 @frieddonutsweets @maribat-is-lifeblood @g-arya @fantasiame @lilkymilky @corabeth11 @fc-studios @roselynfey @babylovebug18 @pepelachanel @atramentias

As always, if I forgot you please, please let me know. I’m a bit scatterbrained lately.

Note: was one of those sequences stolen directly from Big Hero 6? Yes, yes it was.

And the triangle comment is absolutely from Suicide Squad. I was going to have Adrien comment about the movie but then I realized that is a DC movie so it probably doesn’t exist in this universe.

Also, I am letting everyone keep their original miraculouses just with a redesign because you know they will find a way to do it in the show so let’s pretend I’m following the same premise that they use to allow it.

#maribat #jasonette #Pixie Spy

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impaladolan · 4 years

Text

Control Freak - Grayson Dolan

summary: after Choff production lines CEO (finally) retires, a new boss makes his way into Y/N’s world..

warnings: sexual references/undertones

a/n: another Grayson series, i can’t help myself :)) enjoy!! also, ily <3

Ugh, he was in one of his moods again.

The office cubicles were hastily bustling with nervousness and terror. At any given moment, the infuriated man, so-called boss, will be bursting through the double doors with a dark red tint across his cheeks and maybe even smoke out of his ears, if you're lucky.

Mr. Kidman has never been good with the whole "patience is a virtue" thing, he's a ticking time bomb at all hours of the day. Nothing ever satisfies him, nor remotely excites him, he just finds something to yell and scream about at some poor unfortunate soul and then continues his merry day. But today, he was furious. He had no empathy for anyone, even his favorite two little secretaries that wear push-up bras like a side-job. Apparently someone had brought him the wrong breakfast order and everything just went downhill from there.

Unlike all the others, you seemed calm and composed amongst all this mayhem, but only because you, and maybe two others, knew that 'Old Angry Kidman' was finally retiring. Yep, freedom at last. Well, unless the new guy, or girl, has terrible anger issues.

So you just sat at your clean and pristine desk, typing another draft and adding it to the plentiful piles saved on your work computer, while soundlessly chewing on a mint piece of gum that substituted for the absence of a tooth brushing the morning of. But your quick finger movements were hushed once Mr. Kidman, as predicted, flew straight through the doors with his signature fiery red face and sweat droplets dotting his thinning hairline. "Every body fucking up! I've fucking had it with all of you." He demands, majority of the room raising from their seats with caution. With his teeth tightly gritted and his lips in a fine line, he swirls his index finger in the air, motioning to all of his terrified workers.

"If it were my fuckin' decision, I'd have each and everyone of you pieces of shits fired and on the streets in point ZERO-TWO seconds. You all are fucking lucky that this is my last day here, son's of bitches." A man of few nice words, that he is. The nicest thing you've ever heard him say was thank you, and that was two years ago. His vulgar and aggressive attitude truly brings the worth of working this job down. If it weren't for the good pay and lack of any other remotely feasible company jobs, you would've quit a long time ago.

But alas, you still endure the inevitable fiery reign of his obstructive wrath on the daily.

Dolan is his name.

The new boss, that is. That's the only information you and the rest of the staff knew, besides that he's a male. He hasn't shown up for work yet, or even formally introduced himself. Hell, you don't even know what he looks like. But you were certainly nervous for his arrival.

What if he's just like Kidman, or worse?

It most certainly made you nervous to think that this new guy could ever be worse than Kidman. You were hoping and praying that the he'd at least value his workers and employees.

Everyone, on your office floor, was anticipating the days and hours of his big arrival. No one was certain of when he was going to show up, or if. But nonetheless you were one of the most nervous ones. You held the highest title among your coworkers, except CEO of course, but you were pretty up there when it came to business standards. Everyone seemed to like you as well, your kind nature and natural non-brutal attitude sure did make up for other people's. Of course, you didn't really have an office of your own, because you enjoyed the time spent with the people around you. You truly loved the relationship and humbleness you gained from it. At least you weren't a snotty bitch, right?

There were plenty of little rumors around the workspace that you'd become the new (and improved) owner of this whole entire manufacturing company. Specifically a well known fashion line, Choff. The floor that you, and many of the other leading workers, were on was basically the information database. But from time to time, you'd find yourself strolling through the other, more clothing/model filled areas. Just to see how things were flowing.

Which is actually what you're doing in this moment; running your fingers along the racks filled with hangers that held all the fitted clothing items. It seemed like fun to be down here, measuring and sewing the different outfits to the men and women, but it also seemed stressful. Everyone's always in a rush, with their exploding New York accents and their flailing around all over the place. It's pretty amusing to watch from afar, but you'd be scared to get in anyone's way. They'd probably just run you over and continue their day unaffected.

With that thought in mind, you abruptly come to a stop when you run into the muscular backside of someone, startling you from your stare on the tiled flooring. You uttered a few apologies, taking a step back and straightening your pencil skirt from its newfound wrinkles.

"Lost, darling?" Your eyes trail the floor before you until they're stuck on a pair of shiny dress shoes, attached to a pair of long legs and a broad chest. Your eyes finally landed on the remarkably handsome face, of someone you didn't quite recognize. It wasn't uncommon to stumble across unknown employees, but could it be him?

"Frankly, no." You shortly answer, studying his jaw-dropping features. He was indubitably perfect, without a doubt. With a nicely trimmed beard decorating his beautifully shaped jawline, and big hazel eyes that stared right back at your own, he seemed unearthly. Like he was God's favorite angel sent down from heaven, just to show you a glimpse of what it'd really be like inside the pearly gates. "Are, um, you?" You weren't exactly nervous, just mystified. His recent smile grew into what seemed to be a smirk, while his right side's dimple grew more prominent.

"I'd like to say that I'm not, but I sadly am." He shrugs with a chuckle, sending a wave of unbeknownst pleasure through your ears and fluttering down your spine, until the ends of your toes were satisfied with his deep and raspy voice. "Could you maybe show me around this gigantic place? I've been in need of assistance for the last hour or so." He questions you, dropping his shoulders back and letting his eyes roam your stature before drifting to the interior of the long hallway the two of you are currently standing around in. "I very well could, but I have a dreadful meeting to attend to within the next five to ten minutes." Actually, the meeting was in fifteen minutes. You just simply wanted to see the man's reaction, which wasn't what you though it'd be;

"Perfect, I'll be in attendance for that as well. If you'd so kindly lead the way, I would most appreciate it." He smoothly negotiated, stuffing his right hand, which was tightly wrapped with an expensive looking watch, into his pocket with another grin. He seemed very eloquent with his words and the way he addressed things, it has to be him?

"Do you mind me asking of your name?" You began as you started your trek back to where you came from, your heels quietly clicking from beneath you as you lead the way, him following close behind. "Dolan, Grayson Dolan." He quickly answered. Indeed you were right in thinking he was the new (and maybe improved) CEO of all Choff productions. "New head guy?"

He only nods, to yet another one of your endless questions. "And what's your name, darling?" He asks as the two of you stop at an elevator, his quick hand beating yours to clicking the slightly worn down button. "Y/N Y/L/N, direct head management under you." You relay before boarding onto the empty elevator, the doors closing moments after the two of you were stood side by side. You fidget with the ends of your skirt, staying as calm as possible under his stare that you couldn't help but shrivel under.

"Under me, huh?" You almost gulped at the sound of his double meaninged phrase. Smart guy, hm? Your heart started beating a bit faster the more you thought of his little statement. Your mind became a whirlwind of visuals and fantasies before you could even stop it. Just those two little words had made you all sorts of a mess, and he hasn't even done much of anything. "Don't get too worked up darling, we have a meeting to attend." He chuckles as he steps off the elevator that had opened only seconds ago. You just scoff, your cheeks reddening as you stride right past him, maneuvering through the expanse of people that had just left the staff room, in order for the upcoming meeting to advance.

The moment you were sat in the room and time had passed to where everyone had finally shown up, you felt that lingering feeling of eyes on you. A pair of hazel eyes to be exact, who was sat far from you at the end of the long table. For meeting him not too long ago, he sure did seem comfortable around everyone. It was entirely too soon for you to be liking him already, better yet imagining different scenarios with him as someone boringly rambled. You decided that you'd forget him for the time being and focus on your job, as much as possible.

Though it would be granted as difficult as time moved on..

"That's the conclusion of this meeting. I thank everyone for being here, and I especially appreciate your appearance, Mr. Dolan. I'm happy to say that things around here will continue a lot smoother than it did in the past. And I know most others would agree." Burt Wallace, one of the coordinators, concluded after standing from his seat to dismiss everyone with a nod. While everyone dillydallied in conversations with one another, you in the other hand, hustled straight out of that room and towards the same elevator you had used earlier. The moment you clicked the button, the doors opened wide and you hopped in, tucking yourself in the corner while you gained your breath. You smile to yourself at the successful 'escape' from any questions or perhaps a witty comment from a certain CEO on the loose.

You sigh happily to yourself, watching the doors close again until a hand is stuck between them, pushing them straight back to reveal the man you were somewhat avoiding. "Care if I join you again?" He asked, but he still entered otherwise, clicking one of the many buttons to make the door close. "Did I have a choice?" You almost scoff, feeling his shoulder brush against your own as he stood in the same spot he had previously stood in. "Nah, not really, but I like to seem like a little bit of a gentleman." He answers, the roll of your eyes substituting for the internal scoff that you hadn't let out. The two of you rode in silence for what seemed to be eternity, only the faint sounds of your breaths being heard. As soon as the elevator door clanged and opened, you made a beeline out of there and hustled toward your organized workspace like there was a snake chasing you.

"What's the rush?" Ana Rita, one of the only tolerable women in this entire building, asked as you ducked under your desk. Even though you hadn't looked back to check, you had a feeling he'd follow you, or worse, ask you to meet him in his office. You weren't exactly sure why you were hiding from him, he seemed pretty nice. But he truly intimidated you. Not in a competitive way, more so a physical way. "And why the fuck are you down there?" The redhead crinkled her brows as she looked down her long nose at you. "Just, shhhh!" You bellow quietly, covering your pursed lips with your index finger.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hot man, six o'clock! Get your ass out of there!" She violently whispered at you, frantically tidying herself for the "hot man," presumably Mr. Dolan as you had predicted, approached your desks. You tightly hug your knees from under your desk, praying to god that he wouldn't somehow see you. "After noon, sir, may I help you?" You cringe at the seductive tone lined in her voice, something that Mr. Dolan unfortunately probably gets a lot of. "I'm looking for Ms. Y/L/N, I have some issues to discuss with her." Yet again, his girthy voice made you sigh with comfort. It's extremely calming to listen to.

"She's actually right here—" Ana, the little asshole she is in this moment, points straight at you as you plead with your eyes and shake your head vigorously. You suddenly see his handsome head peer over at you, his brows scrunched with confusion. "Uhm, cords were messed up, gotta fix them." You awkwardly chuckle, patting the outlet box stuffed with all your monitor's cords. You bring yourself out from below your desk as the two stared at you, dusting your front side and settling down in your office chair with a nervous smile.

"I'd like to have a word with you, in my office."

(masterlist)

#dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dt #dtfan10m #ily #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #grayson dolan #grayson smut #grayson dolan smut #grayson fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #Grayson #grayson x reader #graysonbailey #dick grayson #grayson blurb

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Valued Possessions

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Trainer!Izuku/Dragon-Shifter!Reader

Synopsis: Izuku’s rather fond of his newest find, an exotic Dragon-Shifter set to join his ever-growing collection of beasts and monsters. It’s a shame he has to break you in before he can expect you to fall in line.

TW: Violence, Abuse of Power, Kidnapping, Dehumanization, and Captivity.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a dragon.”

His voice is smooth, unaffected, an ongoing drawl as practiced as the nonchalant smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. It’s been there since you arrived, since his obnoxious, noisy lackeys pulled you out of a cage with iron bars, a muzzle locked over your mouth and shackles around your wrists and ankles, the broken remains of four identical restraints laid at your feet. Izuku, as he insists you call him, saw fit to do away with the muzzle, but you couldn’t be thankful, not when he makes it so clear he’d prefer you keep quiet. You’d already had to endure his humming while he wound your chains around the stone pillar you were currently kneeling in front of, a solitary structure in the center of the cavernous tent he seemed to call home. If an off-tune melody is your reward for cooperation, you have no desire to find out what misbehavior will earn.

Silently, you make plans to tear out his tongue, then his vocal cords, and if you’re feeling generous, his lungs. Anything he could use to get on your nerves.

“Dragons are such wondrous creatures.” He’s behind you, now, his light footsteps only made softer by the bare earth that makes up his floor. It’s just soil and grass, but it’s biting into your knees nonetheless, wedging itself between your scales and doing nothing to aid the steady, pulsing ache in your calves, tight knots of pressure and tension you couldn’t shake out. You need to stand, to stretch, and while you’re all-but sure Izuku can sense your discomfort, you know you won’t be permitted to move until you’re ready to beg for it. Needless cruelty is a staple of humanity, and he’s given you no reason to think him any better than than the rest of his kin. “I used to have a few friends like you - halfbreeds. Half human, half reptile.” Izuku pauses, letting out a disgruntled huff. His own, personal, unpleasant joke. “Although, Kacchan could hardly be called anything but a nuisance.”

You narrow your eyes, speaking under your breath. “You’re one to talk.”

If he hears you, he doesn’t deem the comment worthy of indulgence. Rather, Izuku takes the opportunity to edge closer, the fabric of his thick gloves rustling before falling away completely, his bare fingertips soon brushing against the unprotected, fleshy skin of your shoulder-blade, just above the base of your wing. Automatically, you jerk away, balling your hands into fists and curling into yourself, but Izuku only laughs, the sound breathy and arrogant. The laugh of a man watching his skittish pet shy away from his touch, too simple-minded to realize that it can only run to the end of its leash. “You’re prettier than Kacchan. Fewer scars, duller talons... your scales are a nice color, too,” He says. Then, as if you don’t already know, he adds “They match your eyes.”

You don’t respond, biting the edge of your tongue, but Izuku is already preoccupied. Idly, his attention shifts towards the nape of your neck, his fingers dancing over the patch of scales that protect the top of your spine. He follows the shape, where it narrows and dips, guarding only what’s necessary before trickling to a stop completely, only to pick up again below your knees. With a discontented, throaty noise, he stabs his thumb violently into small of your back, his unoccupied hand clamping around your shoulder as you cry out, more out of shock than pain. Whatever he’s searching for, he doesn’t find, something he makes apparent with an unsatisfied purse of his lips. “No tail.”

You grit your teeth, but it fails to quell your anger. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” You spit, raising your voice before you can make yourself regret the action. “I thought you had eyes--”

Izuku doesn’t care for that. Before you can find a proper end to your insult, something flat and sharp bites into your skin, the vulnerable tissue of the back of your thigh. There’s an eruption of flame beneath your skin, but it fades quickly, leaving a scalding, lasting pain in its wake. One that burnt more than it should’ve. One that hurt more than you’d care to admit. A whip, you realize, just in time for the second blow. You don’t remember when he picked it up, but you don’t particularly care, either. A weapon is a weapon, and the fact that he has the gull to turn one against you at all is enough to make your broiling hate boil over.

“That’s not the kind of language you’re going to use with me,” He coos, his voice nothing short of benign, as if he hadn’t just struck you for no other reason than his own perceived superiority. “We’re friends, are we not? There’s no reason to take that tone with me, not when you and I want the same thing.” Slow, deep circles are pushed into the dip of your shoulder, Izuku’s half-hearted attempt to comfort you. It does little to erase the furious red streaks now decorating your skin. “You want to survive, and I want to see you flourish. If I have to hurt you, it’s only because you’ve done something to warrant discipline.”

“It’s because you’re a sadist,” You grunt, flexing your claws, testing the strength of your chains. They hold true, rattling under their own weight at the slightest shift, reassuring you that you wouldn’t be able to escape them, not without giving Izuku time to do something much worse than inflict a momentary pain. “If you didn’t enjoy this, you wouldn’t--”

Another strike forces your breath to hitch, colliding with your shoulder and seeping onto your chest. Your scales distance the pain, but that only means it lingers, carving out a place in your memory before it began to fade. You don’t cry out, for fear that any sound of displeasure will earn another blow.

Izuku doesn’t bother with a warning when he takes up one of your wings, instead, tearing it away from your back until the appendage is stretched to its full length. It flutters, attempting to tuck back into a position more in tune with its twin, but Izuku’s grip is firm, keeping it in place as he idly runs a finger down a prominent ridge, following the shape from the bend of your wing until it disappears into leathery sinew. You shudder, and Izuku pretends not to notice. “Beautiful wings,” He notes. “It’s a good pair. If I cut them off and sell them to the highest bidder, I’d make a small fortune. Enough to fund your upkeep, and a little extra... It’d only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

It’s involuntary. You don’t say anything, you’re smart enough to bite your tongue and keep quiet, but there’s a twitch, a delayed effort to keep yourself docile, and that’s enough for Izuku. With a light chuckle and a step back, his foot implants itself in your spine, knocking you forward, your chest crashing haphazardly into the stone pillar. The edge collides with your chest, slotting itself between your ribs and refusing to move until a bruise is blooming across your diaphragm. You scream, the noise high-pitched and cut short by your own pride, but Izuku doesn’t pull back. If anything, more of his weight comes to rest on you, the sole of his boot making itself at home on your skin. Taking pleasure in doing so, at that.

“You’re mine,” He growls, the declaration a ridicule in itself. “I paid for you, I brought you here, and now, you belong to me. You’re a monster, and I am the loving, caring hand that’s going to make sure you don’t stumble into another trap or get skinned for your hide. I’m doing you a favor, and you will be thankful for it.” He grinds his heel down, driving a small, pathetic whine from somewhere deep in your throat. Tiny, insignificant, and exactly what Izuku’s looking for. “You’re going to be happy, and I’m going to take very, very good care of you. We’ll work hand in hand as master and pet, and you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

“I’m not an animal.” It takes more restraint that it should not to hiss the words, not to make a fact into a warning. If you hadn’t been captured, restrained and collared like an unruly mutt, you would’ve strung him to the nearest tree branch with his own intestines hours ago, and you would’ve done so with joy. It’s a difficult feat not to let that impact the way you speak. “I’m not human, but I’m not a monster, either. I’m not mindless.” You swallow dryly, remaining quiet for a moment, but Izuku fails to cut in. It’s a relief, and yet, his silence is enough to make you shrink into yourself, your confidence unshaken but suppressed. “You can’t treat me as if I am, not if you expect me to be grateful.”

A second passes, and you begin to hold your breath. But, Izuku’s eventual response comes without malice. “Yes, I can.”

It’s all you can do to remember how to talk. “What?”

“I can.” He pulls away, the pressure falling away from your back, but you don’t move, staying slouched over the pillar as if it was a lifeline, rather than a hindrance. Slowly, he circles to face you, and for the first time, you can see him clearly. His attire, all well-worn tunics and clothes made to guard against creatures much more imposing than yourself, his pale skin, littered with scars from his neckline to his wrists, and his eyes, dark and foreboding and so terrible, focused on you and unwilling to center on everything else, even when you manage to rip yourself away. Your head bows before you can summon your courage, but Izuku’s quick to correct your posture, his fingers soon rooted in your hair, wrenching you upward and forcing you to meet his gaze. He’s done giving you a choice, if he was ever willing to. “And I will. You might’ve been something before, but now, you’re one of my beasts, and I intend to train you appropriately. You’ll be grateful for my generosity, or I’ll make you act like you are. Regardless of how much I have to shave away to reach the golden, obedient core I know you have.”

Instinctually, you bare your teeth, but the gesture is feeble, much too little and far too late. Izuku only smiles as he leans forward, pushing a quick, chaste kiss into your forehead. You’d say it seems apologetic, but his broad, remorseless grin crushes your hope before it can start to take shape. “Be thankful,” He says, standing to his full height.

Somehow, he seems so much taller than he was, seconds ago.

“I might be the only person who sees you as human enough to warrant such thorough efforts.”

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 3 years

Text

The Massacre of St. Bartholomew

NOT until the day of universal restitution will the infamous atrocity perpetrated on the eve of St. Bartholomew, 1572, by the Roman Catholics on the unoffending Huguenots or Protestants of France, cease to be remembered with the most intense horror. The coolness of the proceedings which instigated such a carnage, and the devilish passions which led Catholic nobles and statesmen to burst the bounds of humanity by heading the massacre, make the event unparalleled in the history of gigantic crimes. There is no shadow of doubt as to who the originators of the plot were. The Roman Catholics had conceived the bitterest hatred to the Huguenots, and were determined that the land should be rid of them. Catherine de Medicis, whose furious enmity to Protestantism made her an admirable mover in the dreadful design, controlled her son, Charles IX sufficiently to make him a mere puppet in her hands. Admiral Coligny, one of the most prominent advisers of the King of Navarre, who was then at the head of the Huguenots, was invited to attend the Parisian court. Coligny was the especial object of the Catholics’ resentment, and an unsuccessful attempt was therefore made upon his life. The Queen-mother, finding that this part of her scheme had failed, represented to the king that the Huguenots were clamorous for revenge upon the nobles of the court for the attack upon Coligny. These representations had the effect of frightening the weak-minded king, who at once authorized the massacre of the offending Protestants.

Our illustration represents the first attack of the murderous Catholics in the streets of Paris. Charles IX. is in the act of giving the first signal by firing a gun from the window of his palace. Coligny with his household was murdered, and his body thrown out to the mob. Everywhere the cry was heard, “Kill every man of them! Kill the Huguenots!” The streets were reeking with the blood of men, women, and children. Not an individual suspected of a leaning towards the Reformed religion was suffered to escape. While this scene was going on, the Protestants of Lyons, Rouen, and other cities, fell victims to the savage fury of the Catholics. The massacre was carefully planned so as to break out at the same hour in various cities and in their suburbs. By some it is supposed that at least 100,000 persons suffered death. The estimate given by Sully at 70,000, has, however, been adopted. It is pretty certain that at least 10,000 were destroyed in Paris alone, and this estimate does not include the 500 who belonged to the higher orders. It is said that “the roads were rendered almost impassable from the corpses of men, women, and children,—a new and appalling barricade.”

The monstrous deed received the high approval of the Pope and his Cardinals, and thanks were impiously made to Heaven for the distinguished favour that had been rendered to the Church. The then head of the English Church by law established (Queen Elizabeth) seemed to take the matter equally well; for we find her immediately afterwards receiving the French Ambassador, and accepting thankfully a love-letter from the Duke of Alengon; and, in a few months, standing at the font as godmother to the child of the murderous King of France. By the side of these facts we ought to place a few computations which will show that the unexampled outrage on St. Bartholomew’s Eve is only a part of a line of policy which the Church on the Seven Hills has carried out during the twelve hundred years of its existence. Mr. D. A. Doudney, the incumbent of Bedminster, near Bristol, recently mentioned at a public meeting that at least fifty millions have been put to death by the Romish Church. That estimate gives us the number of martyrs annually at 40,000, or more than 100 a day for the last twelve hundred years. Spain especially has had her share in the responsibility of this iniquity, for under forty-five Inquisition trials, between the years 1481 and 1808, 31,658 were burnt alive, 18,049 were burnt in effigy, and 225,214 were condemned to galleys or imprisonment. It must not be supposed that in consequence of the respectable appearance which Catholicism is now necessitated to put on that the nature of Popery is changed. It is, and from its organization must continue to be, ambitious of supremacy. Even the Times, which looks upon the proselytising schemes of the Romanists with cynical indifference, believes that it is impossible not to recognise in the recent complaints of English priests and dignitaries “something of that perverse ambition which has always been the bane of Roman Catholicism. A purely religious power the Roman Catholic Church never has been, is not now, and it seems to have made up its mind that it never will be. Though it still embraces half Europe in its spiritual sway, it laments the loss of a few petty provinces in Italy with a bitterness far keener than that of the exiled dukes.” That this ever-increasing ambition will not rest satisfied until England shall bow before the Beast may be readily believed; and that all the efforts now being put forth to weaken the progress of Protestantism in this country have as their central object the humiliation of a liberty-loving people is too plain a fact to withstand. To obtain its ends Popery would not despise the most atrocious and abominable means. If our Saviour’s words, “By their fruits shall ye know them,” have any significance whatever, they may be appropriately used in reference to this insidious Church. What have been the fruits of this fearful heresy during the period of its almost unlimited sway, but spiritual and political oppression as well as persecution in its grossest and most multifarious forms?

Looking at the atrocities of this Church, one would feel tempted to question whether its character of being “Drunken with the blood of the saints” is not too mildly drawn. The only defence of God’s true Church is in God. By the constant preaching of his Word, and by the uplifting of the cross, we hope the day will come when no invectives will be required to denounce the gross imposture which has for so long a time “made the people to sin.”

- Charles Haddon Spurgeon

#The Massacre of St. Bartholomew #Charles Spurgeon #Catholic Church #murder #martyrdom #Hugenots

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omgrachwrites · 4 years

Text

Still in Love with You - Sirius Black

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Request: ‘Heyya could I request a slytherin reader x sirius black where they get married after hogwarts but then the potters die and he goes away to azkaban and angst but then they reunite in an order meeting and fluff in the end? Sorry if this is to much lol. 💚’ @slytherpuffbitch

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death

Words: 1419

A/N: Thanks for the request love, I hope this is okay and I hope that everyone enjoys it! And I know that the order wasn’t formed again this soon but for the purpose of this story I’ve changed it up a bit! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, also please let me know if you want to be added to my Marauders taglist, I love you all! xxx

The very best day of your life and the very worst day of your life occurred within a mere six months of each other. The best day of your life was when you and your soulmate were wed in that beautiful springtime garden, – neither of you wanted a church wedding – beneath the cherry blossom tree. Sirius had looked even more beautiful that day with sparkling grey eyes and the pink blossom petals that had fallen into his long ebony hair.

When his warm hand cupped your jaw and his lips met yours, you knew that this was it; you and Sirius would be together forever. Nothing and no one would ever come between you. If someone had told you when you first started at school that one day you would be married to Sirius Black and you were going to be friends with a load of Gryffindors you would have hexed them for merely mentioning it. But, here you were in front of all your friends, promising to love Sirius for the rest of your life and you couldn’t be happier. The wedding party was held beneath a marquee in a meadow full of flowers and it really was beautiful to be there with all your family, your friends and your godson Harry.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered in your ear that night as he held you beneath the velvet night sky that had been sprinkled with stars.

You smiled as you gazed up at him adoringly and you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, “I love you too Sirius, did you ever think we’d be here?”

Sirius grinned as he rested his forehead against yours, “of course I did, from the minute I fell in love with you, I told James that you were the girl that I was going to marry. At first he wasn’t so keen because you were a Slytherin,” he joked, “but they love you, James and Lily, they really do and so do I.”

Six mere months later, the worst day of your life started with a blazing argument between you and your husband, and it finished with your best friends being murdered and the love of your life had been arrested for the crimes of mass murder and betrayal. Though the evidence was damning you refused to believe that Sirius murdered so many people and betrayed James and Lily. Something inside of you told you that he was innocent.

For the next couple of years you stayed in your job with the British Ministry of Magic but eventually you transferred to America. You had to get away from England and make a brand new start. Years passed by, years when you thought of nothing but Sirius and then that fateful day arrived when Sirius escaped from Azkaban. Hope and happiness bubbled in your chest; all you wanted to do was run home to your husband to show him that you still loved him. But you couldn’t go home, you were too scared, thirteen long years would have taken their toll and there was no way that Sirius was still the same person. You missed Remus but he came to visit you often.

Months later you received an owl from Remus, ‘Dear Y/N, Sirius is innocent – I’m sure you always believed that – it was Peter, Peter all along. He faked his death and betrayed James and Lily, and pinned it on Sirius. Join the Order and come home, we all miss you. Love, Remus.’

At first you were furious at Peter for ruining your marriage and a future with a man you loved more than anything. Then, the relief set in, here was confirmation that you had been right, Sirius was innocent. Tears pricked at your eyes as you clutched the letter to your heart and you hurried to reply to Remus.

‘Dear Remus, you’re right, I did know that he was innocent but it’s nice to have the confirmation. I’ll join the order, of course I will but I can’t come home, Remus you know I can’t. Love from Y/N.’

For a while you could serve the Order quite easily back in America, until today. Today you were going to be attending an Order meeting at Grimmauld Place and to say that you were nervous was an understatement. You smiled as you stepped out of the fireplace and into the kitchen, dusting yourself off.

“Good eve-“you trailed off when you locked eyes with Sirius and the breath was stolen from your throat and your heart began to ache.

He was still so handsome, how was that possible after all those years in Azkaban? His hair was a little longer and his cheekbones were more prominent. Those grey eyes that you loved so much were still so beautiful but they had a haunted look to them now and it broke your heart. His eyes should be so full of happiness. A look of surprise dawned on his face and you forced yourself to say something.

“Sirius,” you breathed.

He didn’t answer you; he just lifted a bottle to his lips as he looked away from you with a pained expression.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Remus spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

During the meeting, you hardly heard what Remus or McGonagall was saying, all your focus was on the beautiful man sitting opposite you, the man you still loved, you had to explain yourself. As soon as the meeting was over, Sirius left the room and your heart jumped into your throat as you ran after Sirius and into the hall.

“Sirius, please wait!”

He must have heard the desperation in your voice because he turned to look at you with a sigh and he gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Y/N, it’s good to see you.”

He was speaking to you so formally that it broke your heart, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come home before now, I just couldn’t,” you finished lamely as you fiddled with your wedding ring that you swore around your neck.

Sirius let out a humourless bark of laughter as his pained eyes looked at you, “why did you stay away? Did you think I was guilty?”

Tears sprang to your eyes as you heard the hurt in his voice, “no of course not,” you sniffled as your eyes found the floor. You felt gentle fingers against your jaw and Sirius tilted your face up so you could look at him, grey eyes sweeping over you in concern, “I was scared,” you whispered, finally admitting your truth, “I was terrified that you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

Sirius’ eyes softened, “oh sweetheart. I have loved you since 5th year, since the moment you told me off for interrupting your study session,” he chuckled, “I love you now like I loved you then, and in fact I love you more. The thought of you kept me going in Azkaban,” he shuddered, “I still love you. How could you think that I didn’t love you anymore?”

Your eyes widened at his confession, he still loved you? “The last conversation we had was an argument and then I lost you, I lost you without telling you that I loved you. I was scared that you’d be holding it against me.”

Sirius gave you a genuine smile as he cupped your cheek, “I can hardly remember what that argument was about. All that I know is that I still love you.”

You smiled as your thumb rubbed against his bottom lip, he looked older but in his eyes you could see the old Sirius begin to emerge, “I’m so sorry Sirius, for everything, for not believing in us, for James and Lily and for the fact that you were in that dreadful place for so long.”

Sirius grinned as he shook his head and he rested his forehead against yours, “we can talk about all that later,” he promised, “Y/N, do you still love me?” he asked almost shyly.

You gripped the front of his shirt, feeling the soft material between your fingers, you captured his lips with yours, his lips were different now, they were slightly chapped but they were still warm. Sirius smiled against your lips as he kissed you back, cupping your cheeks. After a few minutes you pulled away from each other slightly breathless.

“Yes, I still love you.”

Sirius beamed at you so beautifully that you could have cried, “we’ll be a family again Y/N, I promise. I love you so much.”

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

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lazyunknownhideout · 3 years

Text

My light Billy russo x oc ||ch2

chapter 1 <-

Billy was getting dressed, after their "activities" at Dinah's place. He looked around the room for any files or anything of importance as his eyes fell on a folder kept on the bedside table. He looked at Dinah, she was engrossed in her phone, so he picked up the file and took a look, what he saw inside infuriated him.

It was a detailed report on his deceased friend Frank Castle. Billy looked up from the folder, eyes, and voice dangerously calm, " What is this Dinah?"

"Work stuff" She smiled at him awkwardly.

"Work hmm?" His eyes were full of anger now, he took two steps towards her.

"What kind of work is it that requires you to dig up the life history of a dead person."

"It's classified information Billy, I'm a homeland agent I can't be telling you things just because I'm sleeping with you."

"Right, you see I think however that whatever this is" He motioned his hand between the both of them, "This arrangement is solely so that you could use me, isn't it so agent Madani." His was furious.

"Why don't you put on some clothes, you looking stupid standing there." She picked up her phone and ignored Billy.

"I know when someone is lying to me, Dinah. Hope you had a fun time" He picked up his clothes and started dressing up.

She saw that he might be leaving now, so she decided to make up some excuse, some reason. "It's my work Billy, I can't be telling you about it."

Billy ignored her and tied his laces.

"Billy! look at me!"

"What? huh, what? you gonna tell me why are you digging up dirt on my friend?" His voice was no longer calm.

"I can't say" Dinah looked at him, giving him a stoic expression.

"You know they never found Frank's body" Dinah didn't say anything.

"Okay, I get it" Billy nodded and walked out. It was almost midnight when he reached his place, he saw the lights at Rose's place were still on. He was feeling even more guilty now about canceling the plans with her, so he decided to walk in and see her.

As he walked up to her door, he saw the door was unlocked already. He immediately took out his gun and slowly walked in. The living room was a mess, chairs toppled over, clear signs that someone broke in.

"ROSE!" He called out, checking inside the bedroom. She wasn't there, he took his phone and dialed her number.

A faint ringing noise came from the balcony, her phone was thrown over there. Billy was scared for her now, and equally angry at himself for not being there that night. Just then an unknown number texted him, it was a video.

A video of Rose strapped to a chair. Her hand was bleeding and she looked pretty shaken up. A man with a static voice spoke.

"Russo, the warehouse at the back of lring alley, be there alone, or else the girl is dead." The man went up and slapped Rose.

She cried out with the pain. "Billy, please" She started sobbing.

BIlly was raging with anger, he wasted no time. He gathered up five henchmen and stationed them outside the warehouse.

"You hear heavy commotion you walk in, if I'm not out in 30mins you walk in. Got it?" He commanded his team.

"yes sir!" They all took their positions. Billy walked in, he was ready, dressed up in full tactical gear.

The warehouse was old hasn't been used in years. As he walked in, he saw her and his breath hitched.

She was tied and her clothes were half torn revealing a camisole she wore inside. Her lips bloodied probably from someone hitting her. Her hand was bleeding, he looked closely it was a bullet wound. She was slumping in the chair, head hung low. Billy walked carefully making as little noise as possible.

"Rose" He whispered. Her ears perked up hearing a familiar voice. She looked up and saw Billy, gun out, dressed in gear. He looked like a predator, the look in his eyes, on alert.

"Billy" Her voice was weak barely above a whisper, he motioned for her to be quiet. He looked around, there was no one visible but the warehouse was dark, so people could be hidden in the shadows. He approached her, suddenly someone shot a gun, the bullet hitting the ground just beside him.

Billy, pointed his gun above, looking for the attacker. There was some movement from the platform above, he approached the stairs when a voice from above the platform spoke.

"Don't move Russo!" The voice was strangely robotic, someone was using a voice modulator.

He turned around, hearing footsteps approaching, there were two men, faces uncovered holding guns, he didn't recognize them.

"Who are you!" Billy shouted gun pointing at them. The person who spoke before seems to have disappeared.

"Gun down Russo, it won't take us time to kill the girl"

"You chose the wrong person to mess with" Billy was raging by now, adrenaline rushing through, he could take down the two men, but he needed to know if there were more, they could harm her.

"I said PUT THE DAMN GUN DOWN! AND KNELL!"

Billy kneeled and put his gun on the floor.

"The other guns too we know you have more than just one" Billy scowled at them, and pulled three more guns from the jacket and put it on the floor.

The two men approached and kicked his gun away from him. As soon as both of them put their gun to his head, Billy pulled out the hidden knife from under his sleeve, and violently stabbed both of the guys. Blood spattered everywhere, on his face. Billy was screaming and repeatedly stabbing the men, they were long dead but he didn't stop stabbing them, he was venting out all his anger on them. The door burst open and Billy's team rushed in.

"Upstairs there's someone there! and one person cover her! GO! GO! "

Rose was shocked looking at Billy, the way he killed them. Sure she knew he had killed before in the war, and that people were scared of him, but she never saw him in action, she never saw this side of Billy. And it was safe to say she was scared of him too now, his eyes were furious. He was breathing heavily. The look on his face, was as if he was under a trance. His face was covered in blood spatter, his knife sullied with blood.

It was the look of a killer.

He stood up, pulled a kerchief and wiped the blood, and spit on the bodies.

Rose was frozen in place, she wanted to call him but couldn't find her voice. Billy looked around, watching for any more attackers, there seemed to be none.

He looked at Rose, she looked scared, he immediately ran to her to comfort her, but she flinched.

"Rose, it's alright I'm here" He kneeled before her, and touched her arm, the frightened look was still prominent on her face.

He used his blade and cut open the ropes. She was staring at him, scared. He touched her cheeks and looked at her, it was then he realized she was scared of him.

"Rose! you're alright now they are gone, my men took care of them." she was still quiet. Billy was getting scared by the second. He shook her by the shoulders. She took in a sharp breath, and looked at him, something in her eyes changed.

"Billy" She whispered. "Don't hurt me, Billy"

"What! no Rose, I came here to save you. We should get you home." She looked at his eyes, they seemed familiar again. His face, he was worried, she realized his hand was on her cheek. It felt warm, she started sobbing and flung her arms around him.

Billy hugged her back tight, pulled her up to stand. She looked at him, face covered in blood, but his eyes were soft and warm.

"Let's get you home okay?"

Rose nodded her head. Billy put his hand around her shoulder, she snuggled close to him, she was still shaking, her clothes were half torn and it was cold outside. Billy ordered his men to clean up the place and look for any evidence on their identity. The man from before with the robotic voice seemed to have escaped.

He turned on the heater in the car. She was still in shock from what happened earlier. Billy pulled out a coat from the back seat and wrapped it around her, she mumbled thanks but didn't look at him.

He pulled up to the driveway to his place, Rose's place has been trashed, and it won't be safe for her there.

"Rose, we're home" He said softly, careful to not startle her. She looked out the window.

"This is your place" She looked at him questioningly.

"The man got away there's no guarantee that he won't be coming for you again. Staying at my place is the logical option, at least till we get any information on him." She nodded wordlessly and climbed out.

"We need to clean you up, you are still bleeding" Billy touched her arm, where the bullet went through. He was surprised she was able to withstand the pain.

She didn't speak a word the whole time. Billy cleaned her wound. and dressed up her arm.

"You should clean up, I'll run the water" Rose just nodded.

"Hey" Billy said softly and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "You are safe here Rose" She kept gazing at his face and opened her mouth to say something when his phone went off. It was Madani. He didn't pick the call.

"It might be important Billy"

"Yea I'll just call back later" Billy went running the water for her bath. Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath, flashes from the day earlier came back to her, the gunshot, people strangling her to the chair, Billy stabbing the men. She shook her head and went off to bathe.

While she was in the bath, he called Madani.

"You called" Billy said gruffly.

"Yes, you left abruptly and I texted you, you didn't reply so"

"I was busy, what do you want"

"Look Billy, I know it looked bad, frank's file and all that. We should talk"

"Yes it looked bad Madani, digging up a dead man's record and laying it out like he is some criminal looks bad."

"Look can we just talk"

"Talk"

"No in-person, could you come by the docks"

"No, I'm busy"

"Okay maybe after your work then"

"You want to talk to me, you come and meet me I ain't going anywhere"

"Okay okay, I'll come by Anvil tomorrow?"

"Fine" He hung up.

Rose stepped out of the shower.

"Hey Billy, could I borrow some clothes, or maybe I could go get some of mine" Billy was sitting on the couch, he looked up. Her hair was dripping wet and she was wearing his robe that was in the bathroom. Her face was cleaned of the blood, he could see some cut marks on her lips. Her posture, she looked scared, as if someone would jump from the shadows any minute.

"I'll get you some of mine, we can get your clothes later?" She nodded. Billy gave her a t-shirt and boxer shorts. The t-shirt almost reached her knees, and it was very loose on her. She didn't wear the boxer, the t-shirt already looked like a dress.

Billy got up to use the shower.

"Where you going Billy" Rose looked alarmed.

"I need to clean up"

"Oh yes okay, is the door locked? the windows?" She was pretty scared, thoughts running through her mind, what if someone breaks in through the door and she doesn't get a chance to call out to him.

"Rose relax, the security here is tight, there are motion sensors outside and the window glass is bulletproof, can't break them."

"Yes, no okay. I'm just getting a bit paranoid I guess sorry. Go ahead" She sat down on the couch but kept looking at the door and the windows. Billy didn't want her to feel so scared all the time. He sat on the couch and pulled a gun from below it.

"Here take this, its loaded shoot at the legs if anyone breaks in"

She took the gun, her hands were shaking. Billy held her hands.

"Rose, I'm here okay? You don't have to worry" he put one hand on her cheek. She looked at him and nodded.

Billy came out of the shower and saw Rose pointing the gun at the door.

"Rose, it's okay you can relax now" She was startled at his voice and turned sharply and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the light beside him.

"Rose! it's me!" He ran towards her, she looked at him and relaxed.

He was wearing just a tower on his waist. She had never seen Billy shirtless. There were scars on his torse and shoulders. She lowered the gun and got up.

"Are you hungry?" Billy asked her, offering her a glass of water.

"Yeah" her voice was still weak.

"I'll order something"

"NO!" She half yelled at him.

Billy looked at her, eyebrows raised at her sudden response.

"Okay, I'll make something then. Pasta?"

She nodded and sat down on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest. Billy changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt and went to make the pasta.

She didn't speak the whole time they ate, and Billy was now getting worried.

"Rose, did they do anything to you? Besides the wounds that I saw?"

She shook her head and continued eating. After they finished eating she took the dishes to wash. Billy stood beside her, hand on her arm.

"Rose you are worrying me now? you haven't spoken much since we got back"

She looked at him, his eyes strained on her, his hands were warm.

"I'm scared Billy" Her voice was a whisper. "It was all so sudden, I didn't get a chance to even defend myself, I- when I woke up in that warehouse, I saw all these people, holding this big guns, and this man talking in a weird voice, when they saw I was awake they hit me when I struggled they started hitting me more, my clothes tore- Billy I'm scared Billy" She started sobbing.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay Rose, it's okay" He said softly while pulling her to his chest. he stroked her hair, she was sobbing her hands wrapped around him.

"I promise you I will find whoever did this okay?"

"What if they come for me again"

"I won't let anything happen to you" He pulled back and tilted her head to look at him.

"I promise okay? nothing will happen to you. Alright?" She nodded and hugged him again. For a moment there she felt safe, his hands wrapped around her. His soothing voice.

"You should rest, take my room I'll sleep in the guest room."

"okay"

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She pulled up the blankets, the bed was warm. His room had a window, the glass was bulletproof. There was a gun under the pillow. A knife under the mattress, and another gun under the table. Billy at least hid one weapon in every room.

She stared at the window. Sleep didn't come easily to her. She kept fidgeting for almost two hours when sleep finally took her.

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chapter 3

A.N: sorry the chapter was late, was kinda busy with other projects but I promise the next ones will be updated soon.

So do let me know your thoughts about the story.

xoxo

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billyrusso #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfiction #fanfiction #ben barnes fanfiction #fanfic #Smut #ben barnes #billy russo x oc #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x female reader #jigsaw #frank castle

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