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whumpzone · 3 years

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Linden & Colton - 18

(masterpost)

and so the slow process begins

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, discussions of intelligence

Pet- Colton, Colton didn’t realise he’d been asleep until he woke up. He had dreamt of nothing. How he had slept after the stress of yesterday was beyond him.

He suddenly saw Master in his room, a place he’d never been before, stood in the corner waiting for him to wake up and face his punishment. He cried out, pulling himself up and raising his hands protectively.

But-

He blinked. It was a shadow. The gap between the old wardrobe and the wall. Tall, thin, quiet. Just like Master. But Col was alone and he let out a long breath.

Master had probably heard him yell, though. He’d be here soon. So Col wasted no time and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He turned back to tuck his little teddy bear Chu under the covers, where Colton felt it was safe, and headed out into the corridor. Here, he was fair game. He didn’t know why Master never entered his room, but he had stuck to it vigilantly so far. It only made Col feel more aware of his own vulnerability as soon as he stepped through the door.

Master was downstairs, doing a puzzle in the local newspaper, and he looked up as Colton approached. His face brightened into a smile, the biggest he’d ever seen. Master never smiled like that. Col had to fight against the urge to freeze or drop to his knees.

“Good morning, Col,” he said, showing all of his teeth.

Oh, god. Master wanted him to reply. He wanted words, now. He finally knew that Col had been hiding them all this time, and he wanted to delve in, find out how he could twist them and use them to stroke his own ego and entrench his slave’s subordination.

Or perhaps he just wanted to hear his Pet wish him a good morning for the first time. Stop fucking overthinking.

“Good morning,” he ducked his head in reverence, “Master.”

“Wow. I still can’t believe you can speak. I’m so- I’m so proud of you, Col.”

What? Why? “…Please forgive me for not speaking sooner.”

“It’s my fault,” he sighed, which made Col tense up even more. “I just- wow. Where to start? Well, come, sit, have breakfast with me. Cereal?”

He gestured at the box already on the table. Colton obediently sat and took it in his hand with almost no trouble. Master noticed, and nodded happily. He was certainly pleased. It still made Col very uneasy, but he did seem to be doing something right.

He had never heard Master speak in such an excited tone, before. But he was silent while Pet- Col- ugh- made himself his breakfast. He could feel Master’s eyes on him. He was allowed to take the first bite, and then the interrogation began. It was obvious Master had a lot of questions.

“So- okay, first, what made you speak, yesterday? I never asked.”

Colton chewed and swallowed. It helped his throat feel a little smoother, although it was still very rough from disuse. His voice was small and unsure. “You… I saw- I saw Jaffa. At the bottom of the stairs. But I didn’t mean to- I’m n-not accusing you of anything, I know you wouldn’t hurt her I just, I wasn’t sure if you had… seen her, Master.”

He flicked his eyes up to Master, to gage his response. He had just accused Master of being a bad pet owner. Of being neglectful of Jaffa. Master seemed to parse this information, and then smiled.

“She does blend in, doesn’t she? Too bloody well sometimes. I’m so glad you stopped me. And that was so, so kind of you Col. Well done.”

He just nodded, and turned his face away. He supposed…. Master saw it as him looking out for Jaffa, rather than undermining his intelligence. That was a lucky escape for him. He knew that with his old master, any sign of insubordination would have been swiftly beaten out of him.

“Colton,” Col looked up. Master looked scary. Why was he smiling that like? What was he thinking? Col didn’t feel any closer to understanding him. “I know this is new, and I know you’ve not spoken in months. I won’t make you do loads of it, okay? We can take it slowly.”

“Thank you, Master,” he hazarded, although he didn’t see why Master hadn’t just forced him to speak from day one, if he wanted it this badly.

“God, but it makes me realise, I know so little about you. And now- I can ask. And if you want, you can reply. I’m really happy.”

“There’s nothing to know, Master. I’m just a Pet,” he mumbled. The spoon faltered in his hand. Cutlery was still a challenge.

“I know you’ve got a busy brain in there,” Master pointed a slender finger at his slave’s head, to emphasise his point. “I know you’re bursting with thoughts and ideas.”

This made Col look up, properly. An accusation like that came with dire consequences. “No, n-n-no, I’m not, I promise, I exist to serve o-only, I’m just a dumb Pet. Yours to use as you please.” Spoken exactly as his old master had taught him. Well- he would have been belted for stammering. He was out of practice.

Should he kneel? Well, yes, he should, but was it right, when he knew Master liked him on the furniture? But, god, he had to prove his point, he couldn’t let Master think he was starting to rebel, or forget his place.

Bitterly, he thought about how he knew this would happen. This was why Pets didn’t speak.

“Whoa, okay, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant- you’re not stupid, are you? I can tell. And that’s a good thing.”

Col just stared at his hands. He wanted to pause time, step out of his body, and float away. Somewhere without any questions, or expectations, or constant riddles. He was stupid. He knew that much.

Master’s voice brought him back to reality. Glancing at him, Col saw his smile had grown even bigger. His skin prickled.

“I think you’re Welsh.”

“M-Master?”

“You definitely are. You’ve got an accent. You’re Welsh, Col. Wow, now I’m kind of sad. Like, how on earth did you end up here?”

What was he implying? “I’ve… always been a Pet,” Col tried, but it was clear he didn’t believe himself, and from the way Master’s eyebrow slowly raised, he didn’t believe him either.

Colton had always been dimly aware that there was an other him, who had taken up the before-time. He was the one whom his old master had had to train so effectively, he was the one who had all the bad thoughts and urges. Col knew he didn’t start as a Pet. Or else his old master wouldn’t have had to torture him like that for so long.

He was a ghost in Colton’s brain, and Col didn’t know if he was locked away or completely dead. Were parts of him still hiding somewhere, curled up in a place that old master couldn’t ever reach? Or had he been completely laid out and hacked to pieces, until only Col remained. Thinking about it made him want to burst into tears. Some nights, when his mind was loosened by sleep, he felt like he missed him so much.

. . .

Linden didn’t push it. He knew most Pets didn’t retain any memories from before their conditioning. He shouldn’t have asked, really. Just… the realisation that Col had a background, he had lived before becoming the trembling man before him, made Linden ache.

He still wanted to curl up whenever he thought about how long he left it before he realised Col could speak. He hadn’t wanted to push him, there were a myriad of ways he could have been made permanently mute, and he had pretty much fallen into a routine at this point. But the knowledge that all this time, Col was patiently waiting for the chance to talk, probably wondering why Linden wouldn’t let him- oh, christ. He was so embarrassed and ashamed.

He suddenly had so many questions all on the tip of his tongue, that he couldn’t think where to start. He also really didn’t want to bombard the poor boy. But still… just a few, surely, wouldn’t hurt?

“So obviously I’ve named you Colton, but, if you actually do have a name, please tell me. We can use that one instead.”

Colton shook his head. “My name before was- was Pet.”

“Pet?”

“Yes, Master. Or bitch, or, um, mutt. Or toy.”

He hid it well, but Linden could see the shame in Col’s face. At least that meant he realised how fucked up it was.

“Those aren’t fu- those aren’t names,” he growled. “That’s just plain cruel. You don’t deserve that. Do you like being Colton? It’s not too late to choose another name for yourself, love.”

Col waited until he had swallowed down another spoonful of cereal before he spoke. That seemed good, to Linden. He didn’t feel pressured to reply immediately.

“Colton is a nice name, Master. It’s not my place to have likes or dislikes but I, uh, I am happy with it.”

Another quick glance at his face. Linden was getting used to them by now. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jaffa rolling around.

“Likes, dislikes, they’re fine. Don’t worry about that. But if you like the name, then it’s yours until you say otherwise. Oh, and- don’t worry about calling me Master. Honestly.”

Col stopped chewing, his shoulders hunching up suddenly. “I’m sorry, M-, uh, sir, sorry. I didn’t realise I shouldn’t, I’m sorry, I know- know that’s not an excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed. Sir was fine, he decided. From the way Colton had panicked, he didn’t want to push it any further. “You didn’t know.”

“Thank you, I’m- I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re fine, you’re good. You’re doing great with talking, Col. I’ll put the kettle on.”

He had long learnt to pick his battles. Hearing Colton talk about being a toy to be used made him fucking sick, but he could tell that sentiment was deeply, deeply ingrained. He knew a recital when he heard one. Those weren’t his words. They were a tiny window into whoever had fucked him up like this.

. . .

Master was sir now, when Colton spoke. Col could learn that. But it didn’t change anything, right? Master still wanted him, didn’t he?

as usual, the first half of the taglist:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

#linden and colton #pet whump #deconditioning

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aeonghaseyo · 3 years

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Your Trace, My Treasure

Summary: Marc and Nathaniel write and draw, respectively, on each others' notebooks because it's DEFINITELY a couple thing to do.

Word Count: 2105 AO3 link

Relationship/s: Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Marc Anciel Category: M/M Characters: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, Alix Kubdel (mentioned), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (mentioned), Juleka Couffaine (mentioned), Rose Lavillant (mentioned), Alya Cesaire (mentioned) Language used: English Author's Note: The creators of MLB really need to give the side characters screen time. The love square isn't the only romantic set of ships in the show and there are much more cute ships to write about. And so in my first time of writing a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic, it's about a ship that's entirely not part of the love square. This is my final workshop output from a creative writing class I enrolled in during the summer to get units in advance. Special thanks to my professor and two of my classmates for their feedback; I couldn't have made this work even more wonderful without their help. For the non-love-square ship and this being a successful workshop output thus far, I think I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back and more fanfic ideas to write. :)

Compared to the courtyard at Françoise Dupont High School where the lively chattering of students can be heard and the scrambling of footsteps were a staple, the art room was its own entire world of silence.

It was supposed to be a calming silence in that same art room where Marc and Nathaniel were to work on art-related endeavors of their own, but the former found this unwelcoming and rather deafening. It weighed down on his being that the atmosphere was unbearably awkward, much like he was most of the time even before he met Nathaniel and became his partner in creating comic books about Ladybug, Chat Noir, and their akumatized alter-egos who turned good and served as part of the superhero duo’s akuma-fighting team. Despite a remarkable development from being acquaintances, to newfound partners, and now to a bloomed romantic couple, Marc Anciel, as awkward as ever and still testing the waters on this newfound relationship, couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of inadequacy as someone’s significant other.

It just goes to show him that even though his romantic feelings for Nathaniel had been reciprocated at Day 0, it does not remove the remaining unease that Marc currently feels at Day 1. It was his first time in a relationship, and it was with the boy whose drawings he admired so much from the school paper. Simply put, it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness Marc felt wasn’t masked enough, and Nathaniel immediately noticed from his place by the table beside his raven-haired beau. How could he not? It was very obvious, from the way Marc’s hand shakily distorted his usually refined, elegant script while writing the next chapter of their comic to the way his expression was contorted as if he was constipated. Nathaniel thought to himself that it was still an adorable sight, but clearly, something was up, and it wouldn’t do well to just ignore whatever troubled his beloved partner. Attempting to break the ice, the redhead cleared his throat, then spoke to call Marc’s attention.

“Marc.”

The novelist jolted in surprise at the utterance of his name. “Y-yes, Nathaniel?”

Leaning in for a better view of the page Marc was writing on, Nathaniel replied, “Your handwriting’s different.”

“W-wait, really?” blurted out Marc, quickly covering the page with his gloved hand. “I d-didn’t know you were p-particular with handwriting.”

Nathaniel placed a gentle, caring hand on his boyfriend’s with a smile aimed directly at him as he clarified himself, “It’s not that, Marc. I’ve seen it and it’s great. Right now, it just looks… wobbly. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Even if Nathaniel was a recluse in his own class, he could very well read into the emotions of people, but he doesn’t show it that often. As endearing as it was as a show of concern towards shy Marc, it was also overwhelming for the raven-haired novelist to have been the subject of such deep perception, even from the boy his heart palpitates for.

It was then that Marc’s fight or flight response reminded him in a split-second that he needed some sort of diversion for Nathaniel not to remind him of his own awkwardness.

“Isn’t it weird that our art teacher didn’t come here?” Marc rapidly questioned as he struggled not to look at the red-haired boy beside him. Despite this attempt to keep Nathaniel’s focus off of his disposition, glancing towards the door and not at Nathaniel did not help stop the blood from rushing to the novelist’s fair cheeks. His partner might be tired of this, of him, already, but that light chuckle of pure amusement coming from Nathaniel disproved that thought.

“Hey, hey, settle down Marc,” chided Nathaniel, “he might be running late. It’s okay for us to use the art room so long as it’s reserved around this time. Good thing that he reserved it at an earlier time than usual.”

With innocent green eyes, the raven-haired boy looked his boyfriend in the eye and asked, “H-he can do that?”

“Of course, he can. Let’s just wait for him, okay?” reassured Nathaniel, his left hand making its way on Marc’s right shoulder discreetly. “I’m sure my other classmates will arrive here shortly too.”

A shy smile emerged from Marc’s face as he replied, “Okay, Nath.”

Suddenly, a ringtone from the phone which was in Nathaniel’s pocket sounded audibly enough to catch both the boys’ attention. The redhead immediately fished out the device from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing three unread text messages from his close friend Alix.

Hey Nath! Something came up and I couldn’t swing by the art room. Love troubles again with Marinette. Juleka and Rose are also helping out with me so they can’t come.

I can’t believe that Marinette got invited personally by Adrien to his photoshoot but she can’t even give him her handmade gift or ask him out. Because she’s such a wuss, I got dragged here in the park by Rose because Mari needs all of her girl friends to push her towards Golden Boy Agreste YET AGAIN.

And apparently Alya alone couldn’t do it. Sorry! You’ll have Marc to keep you company anyway. Have fun! ;)

So much for those girls coming over to the art room. Nathaniel let out a sigh as he muttered, just enough for Marc to hear, “I stand corrected. The others aren’t coming.”

Catching on his partner’s crest-fallen demeanor and gazing at his face with sympathetic green orbs, Marc replied, “Guess it’s just the two of us for now.”

The next minutes were spent in silence again, with Marc continuing to finish a paragraph while Nathaniel sketched a bird’s eye view of the Eiffel tower as the background in one panel of the comic storyboard in his notebook. After several minutes elapsed, however, curiosity got the best of Marc, and so, with the tip of his pen lingering on the period of his last sentence, he kept on glancing at Nathaniel and the storyboarding he was working on. Besides the sheer focus that was evident in Nathaniel’s turquoise orbs, the shy novelist couldn’t help but notice the fine, steady strokes his beau’s hand were making with his fine-pointed mechanical pencil. So neat, so pristine. It’s amazing how he didn’t need an eraser to erase certain portions of his drawings over and over.

Marc had seen artist sketches himself of both people and objects, mostly done by his friend Marinette. As someone aspiring to become a fashion designer, she would be engrossed in sketching designs day by day, passion ignited by the sparks of inspiration she draws from around her. However, since Marinette’s sketches had obvious hints of disorder, as it normally is with crude artist sketches, it clearly contrasted with the otherwise structured sketches Nathaniel makes for his comic books. Marc, fully in awe, couldn’t help but take a break from his writing and stare at the red-haired illustrator’s creative process right next to him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, thanks to the strong, overbearing feeling of being watched, was getting overly conscious of his work. Keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he quickly turned to Marc and asked, “Do you need something Marc?”

Snapped out of his trance wide-eyed, Marc inwardly panicked. ‘Oh no, I must be staring at him too long! I hope I didn’t spook him too much.’

Scrambling for a sensible response, the novelist stuttered out, “I-i want to write something in your notebook.”

Setting down his pencil while his turquoise eyes were still on Marc, Nathaniel blinked inquisitively. “Oh, why would you want to do that?”

“B-because,” the shy writer reasoned, “I want to write something to remind you of me. T-that is, if y-you don’t mind.”

The red-haired teen averted his gaze from his partner as he remarked, “You know I don’t let anyone write on my notebook, Marc.”

This response triggered the disappointment that Marc had anticipated from the moment that they started continuing to develop the rest of the comic book they were working on together. It was even more daunting for the timid writer that their art teacher and the rest of Nathaniel’s classmates who were usually in the art room with them did not show up at that moment, or even at all. Marinette would tell Nathaniel that it’s a great idea for his newfound love to leave special traces on his personal notebook while Rose, somehow finding this romantic, would gush at this gesture with Juleka mumbling to herself in response. But what would have been the cherry on top for Marc at the moment is that if Alix was there to egg on Nathaniel, pressuring him to give in and let his boyfriend write something in his notebook. At least the comic relief from Alix’s teasing would help alleviate the collective awkwardness the couple felt at that moment. God, if only it wasn’t just the two of them in the art room at that moment.

But alas, he was alone, helpless and daunted, and he was facing the dragon which was Nathaniel, or whatever Nathaniel thought of him at that moment.

However, all of the fears and doubts that plagued Marc left him when Nathaniel continued with a small, endearing smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The novelist beamed at his boyfriend, green eyes sparkling with delight. “R-really?”

“In one condition.”

Marc took and held in a quick breath. “Anything, Nath.”

The illustrator picked up his pencil once again and uttered, with an outstretched hand right by Marc’s notebook, “Let me draw in your notebook.”

It was at that moment when Marc could feel his heart flutter, accompanied by the butterflies in his stomach as he opened his own notebook to the very last page and laid it out right by his beau’s workspace.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In a span of 2 minutes while Nathaniel was drawing on the last page of his boyfriend’s notebook, Marc, fidgeting and tapping his pen softly on his chin, racked his brain for a simple yet memorable piece to write on the first page of the illustrator’s notebook, which was left empty out of personal preference by its owner. Hoping to obtain bit by bit of inspiration, he glanced at Nathaniel, then at the empty page, then at Nathaniel, and so on and so forth. This went on, albeit unnoticed by the redhead, until mere seconds after, he scribbled away on the page once he had gotten attuned with his creative writing flow.

After both of them finished leaving their traces on each other’s notebook pages, Nathaniel and Marc gave each other back their notebooks and instantly opened them to where they each left their special mark. Struck with awe, the novelist softly traced the outline of the drawing and his emerald eyes were drawn to Nathaniel’s signature which he left underneath the recently drawn portrait. A tinge of pink formed on Marc’s cheeks as he admired every stroke that constituted this drawing of him done by none other than the boy he once looked up to, now loved, and who loved him back.

“No one’s written me a poem before,” Nathaniel uttered as he perused every line written by Marc on that now extra special page in his notebook, eyes taking in every word written in that distinct elegant script that served as an epitome of beauty that the redhead beheld. One particular line at the end of the writing, however, caught him by surprise: the words ‘Je t’aime’ accompanied by Marc’s signature in that same fancy handwriting the illustrator adored dearly.

Having regained his composure, Marc turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you like the poem? I-i thought of it on the spot so it might not exactly be to your liking, but-”

“I love it,” interrupted the red-haired teen breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his significant other and squeezing his shoulder. “Really Marc, you make the most wonderful written pieces.”

An expression as bright as day graced Marc’s features as he replied, albeit with a bit of shyness in his voice, “Y-you really think so?”

Nathaniel threw any single hint of hesitation in his being out the window as he placed a tender, loving kiss on Marc’s forehead. “I do. We’re meant to be partnered together, after all.”

And just like that, the uncomfortable awkwardness that haunted Marc was instantly warded off, and in a flash, he enveloped Nathaniel in a tight, warm, loving embrace and leaned into him in newfound solace. The silence in the art room has never been this comforting as the couple relished in this seemingly endless embrace together.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #mlb fanfiction #nathaniel x marc #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #marcnath #mlb fanfic

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wkemeup · 4 years

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James

inbox request: “Hii, I was thinking that you could write for the By Any Other Name one shots about (all) the times she still called him ‘James’?“ and “...reader ever gets triggered back to any traumatic situations that happed when she was with brock...” by anonymous ❤️ pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 3.5k warnings: PTSD symptoms, dissociation, nightmares, attempted sexual assault a/n: for the anon who requested her calling him James, I swear I didn’t intentionally start out to make this angsty, but it felt right. Also doesn’t surprise me that the angstiest one shot so far is definitely the longest lol. oops. 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“Don’t get cocky just because you survived your first assignment,” Bucky warned, rolling his eyes as Sam sprawled out on the chair in Bucky’s office. Wide toothed grin and the lipstick of an agent on his cheek welcoming him back to HQ after four months under in a biker gang outside of Albuquerque, Sam’s ego had nearly tripled.

“I can and I will,” Sam replied with a snort, sinking further into the chair and kicking up feet up to rest on the desk.

Before Bucky could retort, a short vibration from his cell buzzed against his pocket. He didn’t have a chance to speak as he put the phone to his ear before the voice of a woman came through, firm and calm, though there was a slight edge in her tone. A bated breath. And then --

“Is this Bucky Barnes?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, throwing a look at Sam that quickly faded the playful smile from his face as he straightened in the chair.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“My name’s Maria. I work with Y/n at the university,” she explained, a little rushed. “Somethings happened... a fire in the break room and... well... she keeps asking for James.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was rare when you called him by that name. In the beginning, it had slipped out on occasion; little moments here and there when you were absorbed in your book or focused in the kitchen and the unconscious habit spilled through the cracks. It was always followed up with dozens of sweet apologies because you knew how much it meant to him when you called him by his name – his real name -- even though he told you as many times that he didn’t mind.

But lately, he only heard that name through your screams in the middle of the night, under the faint glow of moonlight seeping in through the curtains and sweat beaded on your forehead, through stammering heartbeats and tears streaming down your cheeks. When you couldn’t quite remember where you were or the last year since your husband had died and you’d been freed from under his reign. It disoriented you, threw you back into the midst of Hydra and James Karpov and sometimes it took longer than Bucky could bare before you came back to him.

Maria sighed. “I don’t know who James is, but I thought you might be the next best bet.”

“Y-yeah,” Bucky chocked out, snapping himself from the strange sense of shock. “I’m on my way.”

He lunged for his keys, gave Sam a short grimace to which he nodded in understanding, and rushed out the door.

“What happened? Is she hurt?” Bucky questioned as he sprinted through the halls, pushing past agents and shoving aside interns carrying dozens of files in their hands.

“I couldn’t find any new burns,” Maria confirmed, though there was a trembling ache in her voice she was clearly trying to push aside. “She seems alright physically. I don’t think she got too close to the fire, but… I’ve never seen her like this before. She won’t say a word to anyone without James. Do you know who she’s talking about?”

Bucky gritted his teeth as he flung open the car door, slid inside, and threw it into reverse. “Yeah, I do.”

Sam must have called in for a police escort it seemed, because they met him at the gate with flashing lights and sirens at the ready. Bucky told them through the windows he needed to get to Columbia as fast as possible, and they nodded without question, even though his voice was wavering in every syllable.

By the time he got there, as he burst through the front doors and raced through the halls, it felt like he was drudging through sand, through mud up to his waist, with anvils tied to his ankles and weights shackles on his shoulders. He didn’t stop to pay attention to the students as they stared at him as he ran past.

He found Maria standing at the edge of the hallway next to a fireman and a yellow tape blocking off the area. She softened as he saw him sprinting towards her. Maybe she noticed the sweat on his shirt or the panic in his eyes, but she stepped aside quickly and gestured for the fireman beside her to do the same.

“She’s down by the break room,” Maria told him. “I couldn’t get her to move. EMTs are with her but I’m not sure if she let them examine her yet.”

Bucky nodded, muttering out a short ‘thank you’ before he pushed down into the hallway.

Sure enough, there you were. Sitting on the floor, knees tucked up to your chest, staring straight ahead at the lockers opposite you. There was a vacant look in your eye as you ran your right hand across the scars on your left; discoloration and raised edged that extended around your wrists where the wires had once dug through your skin and the scorch of a fire burned.

An EMT was standing beside you, trying to grab your attention, but you wouldn’t even look at him. He exchanged a look with his buddy as they noticed Bucky approaching. He gave them a quick flash of the badge tucked into his pocket and they stepped back.

Slowly, Bucky knelt down at your side. He could see the faded burn marks on your forearms, nearly seamless to the color of your skin, but still raised and distorted, though they were clearly from the fire over a year earlier. There didn’t appear to be any new marks; no burns on your clothing or red patches upon your skin save for the imprints of your nails upon your hands and you dug them in for relief.

“Y/n?” he called gently, though you didn’t turn in his direction, almost as if his voice were miles away.

He’d only seen you like this once before; the night Rumlow had roped Peter into the underworld of Hydra’s crimes. You’d been so still, so petrified, that you practically looked right through him. It took a while for you to come back to your surroundings, to recognize where you were. He thought about what your friend Maria had said and who you were asking for.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s James. I’m here,” Bucky eased, soothing a hand along your shoulder. You blinked a few times, recognizing his voice, his name, and you turned to him.

“James?” you whispered, relief quickly sweeping through you. You threw yourself into his arms, causing him to stumble back against the wall, but he held you steady.

“Yeah, honey. I’ve got you.”

He could feel the tear marks on his skin where you pressed your face to the crook of his neck. He tried not to stiffen his body, to prevent the muscles from turning to stone and his hands from curling to fists. He couldn’t stand that Rumlow still had this power over you.

It made his blood boil and rage churned like fire in his chest, but he held onto you with the tenderness you needed. He nodded as you called him James, as you stroked your fingers through the short wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, you pulled back. You seemed to recognize what happened, remembered the fire as your turned back to look at the break room and the firemen exiting the building. Realization clicked and you glanced up at him; eyes red with tears.

“Bucky?”

Instant relief.

He offered you a gentle smile, prepared, because he knew the wave of apologies that would follow. He’d hold you in his arms, whisper over and over again that it wasn’t your fault, that he didn’t mind you called him James, that he understood. You didn’t always believe him, but he tried.

***

That name quickly became a warning. You’d loved James Karpov, but you loved Bucky Barnes, too. It mattered to you that you called him by his name, no matter how many times he told you otherwise. So, when you used that name, when you called him James, he knew something was wrong.

“Agent Barnes?”

Bucky glanced up at the intern standing in the door frame; nervous grimace on his face and a tie hung a little loose around his neck.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

Bucky shook his head. The sun had already gone down hours ago and he’d been up for days trying to find a connection in the financial records of a white-collar businessman to an underground trafficking ring for Sam and the rest of his former team. It meant another all-nighter at the office, but he knew Steve wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t need the help.

“It’s late, Miles,” Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “See if they’ll reschedule for tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of work to do on this case.”

“Sir, I really think you should see this one.”

Miles stepped aside, moving back to his desk sitting outside Bucky’s office, and leaving the entrance open. Then, almost as if he were imagining it, Bucky heard a muffled meow just beyond the door.

“James?”

Bucky dropped the file in his hands as you approached the edge of his office. Dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt two sizes too big for your frame, dark circles under your eyes, and Cheddar held tight in your arms amongst a pile of blankets inside his carrier, you looked as though you hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/n?” Bucky walked around the side of his desk, making his way to you and gently pulling the carrier from your hands and setting it upon the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied with a shrug.

It had been two days since he was home. It happened sometimes, not often, but enough that you knew what it meant; that the team needed him. You understood, you always said as much, and Bucky called when he could, had takeout delivered to the apartment for you and promised to make it up to you when he got home.

But something was different this time.

“I, um,” you started, glancing around the office nervously. “I keep thinking I’m seeing things. In the dark. In the shadows.” You cleared your throat as Bucky furrowed his brow, a sort of embarrassment seeping through. “I keep seeing Brock.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He led you to the couch in the corner of the room and as he eased you down, he turned to find Miles closing his office door with a sad smile. Bucky leaned down and opened Cheddar’s carrier, letting the cat roam freely around the office, though he decided rather quickly to jump up onto the couch beside you and curl up against your thigh.

“I know it’s crazy,” you said, running your fingers along Cheddar’s spine as he began to purr, “but I… I keep wondering… what if he’s out there? They never found a body, right? I mean… it’s possible he escaped and—”

“It’s not,” Bucky interjected as gently as he could. He remembered the vacant look in Rumlow’s eyes, how he dropped to the ground in a mess of his own blood. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. As you looked at him again, there were tears in your eyes. “I promise you, sweetheart. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”

“I want to believe that,” you whispered, stare dropping down to the floor.

Bucky could see the tension in your jaw, in your shoulders, and how your eyes flashed over to the windows. He pressed a short kiss to your temple and let the silence take over. It was comforting, just listening to the crickets outside and the typing of Mile’s keyboard outside the office door.

“James?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I stay here?” you asked, voice as small as a child’s. “With you?”

You looked at him with a strange kind of hesitation in your eye, like you might be afraid he’d turn you away. It broke his heart, but he tried not to let it show and pushed out a smile instead.

“Of course, love. I’ll see if we can find some blankets for you, alright?”

You nodded, relief quickly spreading through you as you pulled Cheddar into your arms, hugging him tight to your chest. Bucky quickly got up and opened the door a crack to find Miles sitting at his desk, typing away.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky started, “can you track down some—”

“Already got them, sir.” Miles grabbed a stack of blankets from under his desk and a cushion he must have stolen from the lounge and handed them to Bucky.

Bucky nodded, taking them into his arms. Miles was a smart kid. He overhead a lot more than he should, but he never asked questions, never pried, never so much as considered gossiping to the other interns about the personal details of Bucky’s life. Bucky made a note to write him a hell of a recommendation letter.

“Go home, Miles. I’m good for tonight.”

“You sure?”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah.”

Miles jumped up, gave him a quick nod, and practically jogged his way to the elevator.

As Bucky made his way back into the office, he turned to find you already asleep on the couch. He paused, watching as Cheddar tucked himself against your chest as you laid on your side. Your hand was still rested on Cheddar’s back. The cat looked up at Bucky as he approached, his purring loud enough to overshadow the crickets outside.

“You take good care of her, huh?” Bucky whispered to Cheddar, scratching behind his ears. He purred a little louder in response.

Then, Bucky draped a blanket over your legs, letting it fall by your waist. He leaned down and brushed the hair from your eyes, pressed a kiss to your temple, and slowly made his way back to his desk. He had a lot of work to do, but a few glances over at your sleeping form and the ease with which you slept were enough to keep him going through dawn.

***

“That smells incredible,” you gasped as you walked past a bakery in Queens.

You dragged Bucky by the hand to the window where you could see dozens of rows of cookies lined up inside; gooey and warm and wafting through the air enough to make your stomach growl. You turned to him with that pleading look in your eye, teeth biting down on your lower lip.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

You grinned, clapping your hands together as you waited for him outside. It was a small shop, with barely enough room to walk around inside without knocking into the tables filled with sweets, so you opted to wait by the edge of the bakery.

The sun was setting into a beautiful orange and pink in the distance, and the street lamps barely illuminated the alleys beyond the shop. Across the street, you watched as a young man walked by with two dogs, whistling to himself with every bounce in his step. You smiled.

“Ah, what do we have here?” a voice growled from behind you.

You jolted, heart skipping a beat as you whipped around to face the man standing behind you. Tall, burley, with a long-jagged scar along his jawline, you recognized him only as Markovich; one of the men who worked at the docks under your husband. Ex-husband. Dead husband.

“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Rumlow,” Markovich sneered and suddenly, a hand snacked around your forearm, digging razor sharp into your skin and you felt the violent tug as he dragged you into the alley.

You couldn’t speak, could hardly move, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t find your voice. It all happened so fast. You couldn’t have prepared for it.

Your back slammed to bricks, head pounding in the effort as Markovich pinned you to the wall.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while. The pretty little bitch that put Hydra in chains...”

Markovich drew a line down your cheek to your jaw with his finger. You struggled to stretch out from his reach, but he held you firm.

“But I slipped through the cracks, didn’t I?” he continued, sinister grin upon his thinned lips. His hand slid lower, daring to touch over your neck, your collar bone, over the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the thunderous pounding of your heart. “Now, I’m going to take what’s mine, take what’s been owed to me now that you’ve destroyed Hydra. Stay quiet for me, Mrs. Rumlow.”

You screamed.

“James!”

A hand slammed down over your mouth, dirty and suffocating. You desperately looked up to the streets, but they were empty, filled only with the dark overcast of the sunset and faded flickering of the street lamps.

“Karpov’s dead,” Markovich spat. “He can’t help you now.”

You whimpered, tears burning in your eyes. Your whole body felt numb, shaken, frail, and as Markovich put a hand on your thigh, sliding up your skin and seeking under the hem of your dress, a surge of rage came over you.

You raised your knee with as much force as you could swing between his legs and suddenly, Markovich doubled over in pain. He released you in favor of clutching his crotch, and you stumbled back towards the streets.

“James!” you screamed, voice breaking in the effort. “James!”

Bucky swerved around the corner in a panic, paper bag dropped to the concrete as he saw you rushing towards him. You slammed into his arms, shaking terribly, and Bucky only had seconds to react when he sat Markovich stumbling back to his feet. Bucky quickly pried you from his arms though it killed him to do so.

“Sweetheart, I need you to call Steve.” Bucky kept his eyes on Markovich.

You shook your head. “James, I… I….”

“Do it now,” he ordered, firmer than he ever wanted to be with you, but as he watched Markovich crack his knuckles, baring his teeth, Bucky knew he didn’t have much time. He kept a hand on your shoulder, stilling you at the edge of the street, before he made his way into the dark shadows of the alley.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Karpov,” Markovich growled.

“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be in jail, aren’t you?” Bucky shot back. “We’ve had outstanding warrant for your arrest for over a year.”

“Should have figured you were a narc.” Markovich spat, sizing Bucky up as he stepped forward. “Always so soft with the boss’s wife. Heard you were fucking her too. Tell me... was it good?”

Bucky clenched his jaw. Over his shoulder, he could hear your voice quietly on the phone with Steve. It wouldn’t take long. Maybe a few minutes before backup arrived. He didn’t like to carry his firearm when he was off duty, especially around you because you’d be subject to enough violence in your life and you didn’t need the constant reminder that Bucky had perpetrated it himself, too. But now, as he stared down the rather large figure of a man with an intent to kill, he seconded guessed his choice to leave it at home.

Markovich rushed forward, lunging straight for Bucky’s neck, which he was able to side step easily. He had more agility than Markovich and he’d use it to his advantage. He got in a few hits before Markovich landed a punch, but when he did, it nearly sent Bucky spiraling to the ground.

“James!” your voice yelped out from behind him. He didn’t dare turn around.

It took until the both of them were panting and Markovich has a steady stream of blood down his nose and Bucky was limping on his left ankle before the cops arrived.

They rushed into the alley, separated Markovich to the wall and cuffed him. Bucky didn’t say a word as Markovich shouted at him through the window of the cop car, threatening him, threatening you.

Hydra didn’t have resources anymore. Markovich couldn’t hurt either of you the way Rumlow had once threatened. Steve would find a way to make sure Markovich stayed silent. It might mean a reduced sentence or privileges behind bars, but he’d keep the two of you safe. Bucky didn’t doubt that for a second.

“Oh, thank god, James,” you rushed towards him, throwing yourself into his arms. It was nearly suffocating how tight you were holding him, but he didn’t mind. You needed this, needed to remember that he was real and safe, and maybe he needed that too.

“I’m alright,” he exhaled, wiping the blood from his cheek. He pulled you back just enough to see your face. “Are you okay? I shouldn’t have left you out here alone. I didn’t think— I should have come faster— I—”

“I’m okay,” you confirmed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “But I guess ‘okay’ is relative.”

He chuckled at that, nodding as he pulled you back to his chest. “I’ve got cookie dough in the freezer and that movie you’ve been wanting to watch on rent. You up for that?”

He could feel your smile against his chest.

“Yeah, I’m up for it.”

Bucky gave a short nod to the officers clearing the scene behind him and guided you back to the sidewalk. It was a short walk back to the apartment from where you were.

“Hey Bucky?” you asked, and he felt a wash of relief in his own name.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Thanks for keeping your promise.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What promise?”

“To always protect me,” you said simply, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Bucky nodded, a soft kind of smile pushing at his cheeks. “Always, sweetheart. Always.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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misssophiachase · 3 years

Note

prompt- AH Klaroline. we usually see klaus developing feelings for caroline while she's in a relationship with someone else. i would like to see something where klaus has been in an established relationship with another girl and caroline realizes that she's developed feelings for him. (if you don't have time to do this one, don't worry about it).

Thanks nonnie, I love it so much! Inspired really. Got a bit carried away too, see notes at the end.

Synopsis: One wedding and a completely confused best man and maid of honour.

“And all you never say is that you love me so.”

All You Never Say

Caroline Forbes, Maid of Honour, Invites you to celebrate:

The Bachelorette Party for

Katherine Pierce

On Saturday fifteenth of June, twenty-twenty one at Connaught Bar, Mayfair, London at 2000h

Dress: Party Attire

One week before the nuptials - Connaught Bar, London England, 10:21pm

“What happened to the Kitty Kat I knew who’d usually be dancing on the bar right now and showing the stripper just how it’s done?”

Although her tone was light and teasing, Caroline was a little disappointed given this was her best friend’s bachelorette party and there wasn’t a tacky veil or penis straw in sight.

Also, they’d been forced to hire out a venue to avoid unwanted media attention before the big day so the atmosphere wasn’t quite what she was expecting either.

The word lacklustre seemed a good word to describe it all.

Maid of Honour Caroline had been banned from most fun things when organising Kat’s last night of ‘freedom’.

“She’s marrying one of the United Kingdom’s most eligible bachelors, not to mention the youngest Minister in the Government’s Cabinet. That doesn’t really go with the wholesome reputation she’s trying to portray, Care,” Bonnie offered, eating the olive from her martini. “Although, I think it’s a shame you can’t put those pole dancing moves we learned in Cabo to good use.”

“This is one pathetic stripper, just saying,” Rebekah offered, joining them at the bar and stealing Bonnie’s drink from her outstretched hands.

“I was on the other side of the world, I could only go by his rating on the internet,” Caroline argued. “Plus, I also had to find one who kept some clothes on and we all know what that means.”

“What’s underneath doesn’t match the whole package,” Bonnie finished. “We don’t need to tip him, do we?”

When Katherine called Caroline thirteen months earlier to say she was engaged to Elijah, Caroline couldn’t have been happier. They’d all met each other at private boarding school and had stayed in touch ever since and even though they seemed like opposites, Kat and Elijah complemented one another.

Also, Katherine’s job as head neurosurgeon at one of London’s most prestigious private hospitals and her impressive family inheritance greatly helped matters when it came to swaying his parents on the engagement.

The Mikaelsons.

Mikael and Esther were extremely wealthy and well-connected in English society. They came from family money and owned a large and impressive property portfolio spanning the entire globe and had sent their children to the best boarding school the US had to offer.

Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire.

Caroline wasn’t wealthy like the rest of her friends. She’d be lying if that fact didn’t make her feel somewhat inferior. Her father owned the local general store and, if it weren’t for her scholarship, Caroline would have ended up in public school. Not that she would have minded but her father insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Attending the exclusive boarding school had been an adjustment to say the least and not just because of the ugly and uncomfortable uniforms they had to wear. Caroline was assigned to a room with three fellow students.

Katherine Pierce, although the daughter of a talented cardiothoracic surgeon and a world class architect, was wild and impulsive and constantly in trouble with the dean for her indiscretions like sneaking out to meet boys and smoking on occasion.

Bonnie Bennett was the gorgeous but serious high achiever whose parents owned one of the biggest publishing houses in the world. She was taught never to take anything for granted and work hard for what she wanted in life.

Rebekah Mikaelson, while strong-willed and passionate, was the odd one out from the beginning. She made it her aim in life to drive the other girls crazy with her brittle personality and unwanted opinions. Although it took a while, and a few choice fights that needed to be broken up between her and Katherine, the girls became best friends.

Rebekah’s brothers all attended the school at the same time but in different years with Elijah the eldest followed by Klaus then Kol and youngest sibling Rebekah.

The Mikaelson boys and their best friend from home, Enzo St John, were definitely the most popular and sought after by the female student body. Caroline, not being one to conform, refused to play that game. She had no intention of stroking their egos any further, especially head womaniser Klaus.

There was no doubting he was gorgeous, it ran in their family after all, but he knew it.

Caroline found that she could have a fun time with Enzo, a deep and meaningful discussion with Elijah and a joke with Kol but when it came to Klaus all he did was tease her and rile her up.

Of course she told herself it was because he was an immature idiot but wasn’t overly convinced it was the only reason given the looks she’d send his way when she knew no one was looking. Caroline hoped whatever weird thing was happening would dissipate when they graduated.

Kol and Bonnie had dated for a year at school, but apart from them they all stayed friends. So much so, that after they’d all graduated and gone their separate ways in life they still caught up for most significant occasions.

This wedding being one of many.

Katherine and Elijah had reconnected in Boston and, even though she always said he was too serious, they fell in love and were now on the verge of marriage.

Caroline was so excited, if not about the bachelorette party.

“Who are we kidding? I got the wild stuff out when you three were all too busy being good girls in boarding school,” she scoffed. Caroline wouldn’t admit it aloud but she had a point. “And there’s nothing stopping you three from getting up there with the stripper.”

“Pass,” all three replied, looking up at him ominously.

“How about we get out of here and see what the boys are up to?” Katherine suggested a twinkle in her brown eyes.

“Because I think that defeats the purpose of a bachelorette party, Pierce,” Caroline drawled. “And this is Elijah, no offence but poker doesn’t sound all that exciting if you ask me.”

“Says the girl with the special poker skills,” Kat smiled deviously. “Klaus likes to think he’s the best player but we all know you could give him a run for his money. I’d say watching you fleece him is a fun way to spend an evening.”

Caroline had to admit angering the best man and her wedding partner certainly had its benefits. They’d seen each other in passing the previous day on arrival but otherwise hadn’t connected much recently because she was based on the West coast in Los Angeles and him on the East in New York City.

He was the CEO of a prominent stockbroking firm and, by all reports, had been dating a Texan oil billionaire’s daughter and model, Hayley someone, for the past year.

Okay, her surname was Marshall.

She may have read a few editions of Page Six and seen them attending premieres and openings. She was sort of attractive.

Okay, she was gorgeous with big, brown doe eyes and a glossy chestnut mane and legs for days.

Caroline told herself that she didn’t care more times than she could count but there was also something lingering beneath the surface with Klaus. She would have endeavoured to forget him after school had it not been for something that happened two years earlier and changed her opinion of him completely.

Bastard.

And with that came the insecurity she hated. Even though she’d carved out a successful career as a human rights lawyer, she’d never fit into his life because she didn’t have a rich family or a huge inheritance like Hayley. Not that she cared but she knew his family did.

She noticed her friends giving her weird looks, clearly she didn’t realise how much of a Klaus trance she’d descended into.

“Sure. Why not?”

American Bar, Savoy Hotel, London 11:07pm

“This is lame,” Kol scoffed, throwing his cards on the makeshift poker table.

“He’s only saying that because he’s losing,” Enzo laughed, pulling the chips towards him greedily.

“No, I’m saying that because this is no bachelor party,” he huffed, standing up and going to the bar to make himself another drink. “You couldn’t even organise one, measly stripper?”

As with the girls, the guys had hired out the venue for privacy reasons, not that they were actually doing anything untoward.

Klaus had won the most money so far but he’d left the table to take a call from Hayley letting Enzo win a few rounds in his absence. She was arriving the next day for the wedding and was calling to check on the arrangements.

Klaus was certain he’d told her multiple times but she was someone who liked things just right. But she also liked to call.

A lot.

At first he thought it was endearing but after a year he was starting to realise it was largely overkill. So too, her obsession with all things materialistic and celebrity and having to be at the opening of everything and anything. Klaus liked to keep more of a low profile if he could and that trait only reminded him of his parents and their chosen life together.

When he’d met her during a wild weekend in Miami, Klaus was immediately taken with her. He even thought it was love but decided that was just the tequila talking and it was most definitely lust. Klaus didn’t do relationships and he assumed she would be a momentary distraction until his parents had taken a strong liking to her. Or more accurately to her wealth and family connections and future prospects for them.

With Mikael and Esther it wasn’t much about love but what you did for a living and how much money your family had. Their marriage was case in point.

Klaus wasn’t one to do what his parents told him but he’d long felt the black sheep given his secret paternity and decided it would be good to earn their favour for a change.

There was also another reason to entertain the relationship, one that had made him realise that, no matter what, he was always going to have to settle for second best.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Klaus looked up into the eyes of his future sister-in-law. He and Katherine had acted like siblings from the moment they met so to him her marriage to Elijah was inevitable.

“Great!” Kol growled from his vantage point behind the bar. “Not only do I have to sit through this poor excuse for a party but now the girls have arrived.”

“Nice to see you too, Kol,” Bonnie said, raising her eyebrows. Although they’d dated over ten years ago everyone seemed to think something was still very much happening between them.

“As much as I’m glad to see my beautiful fiance,” Elijah smiled, standing so he could pull her into his arms affectionately. “I’m not sure this is the done thing.”

“Oh, you mean like strippers, brother?”

“You’re more than welcome to our stripper, Kol, we only left him in Mayfair about ten minutes ago so you might be able to catch him if you’re lucky,” Rebekah teased, swiping a few of Enzo’s prized chips from the table.

“Oi, woman!” He muttered, attempting to take it back while she squealed in response.

Rebekah and Enzo had been play fighting since he was eleven and she was nine. The rest of the group all knew it was unresolved tension that would finally sort itself out some day so were just waiting for it to click into place.

“So, what you’re telling me is that the girls were allowed to have a stripper?” Clearly, Kol wasn’t letting this one go easily.

“Oh would you please shut up, little brother, does it shock you that Elijah didn’t actually want one?” Klaus barked, his brother wearing on his last nerve.

For the most part his gaze had been surreptitiously trained on the maid of honour. Attired in a little, black dress that hugged her in all the right places it was incredibly distracting. She was also wearing her hair just how he liked it, loose and a little wild. How many times had he imagined running his fingers through those waves? Too many to count.

Yes, Caroline Forbes was his dirty little secret. One that he had every intention of keeping because it would do him no good to reveal it.

“I promise that when you get married I’ll book out an entire strip club,” Enzo offered, stealing the chip from Rebekah’s grasp while she wasn’t watching and sending her a triumphant smirk. “Happy?”

“Are we playing poker or what?” Caroline asked. This got his attention. Klaus looked over at her, his eyebrows cocked curiously.

“You play poker, love?”

“I dabble,” she replied, taking a seat at the table. “I mean, I used to play with my grandpa when I was about ten. Pretty sure the rules haven’t changed much since then.” It would have been adorable if Klaus wasn’t so competitive by nature.

“We are playing for real money here,” he warned, giving her one last chance to back out. “I mean I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

“I’m a big girl and can take care of myself,” she shot back. “So, just deal the cards, Mikaelson.”

The others took their place and the game was restarted, even Kol seemed to have gotten out of his funk to play. The first hand went like this:

“All red,” Rebekah smiled triumphantly, laying her cards on the table. After betting her entire bank it was sufficed to say she was out from the get-go.

“All red? Seriously, little sister? Can you please take her away Enzo and never let her play ever again,” Klaus muttered through gritted teeth. How were they even related?

Second hand ended in Katherine and Elijah being expelled for too much PDA at the poker table. Neither of the love birds minded a little time out in the corner.

Third hand came down to a poor display of bluffing from Kol while Bonnie complained because all she wanted to do was play Go Fish because it was more entertaining.

Then there were two.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just give in, Forbes?” Klaus asked, leaning back lazily in his chair. She was studying her cards carefully. Most hands she’d folded before betting anything and he was starting to realise she was too careful, much like the girl he knew in real life.

“Give me a minute,” she hissed, fastening a loose wave behind her ear. Klaus could tell it was a sign of a bad hand but at the same time he wished he was the one to place it there.

“Okay, I want three cards,” she asked, placing the discarded ones face down.

“Maybe you should just fold, love?” He asked, partly because he was concerned but also because Klaus knew he was that accomplished. His straight flush was looking extremely good right now.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me what to do, ass,” she offered, noting his shocked look in response. “I was just trying to counter your love with something equally fitting.”

“Fine,” he murmured trying to pretend not to feel dejected. “Three cards.”

She took them and again studied them closely. Meanwhile the rest of the group had gathered around, no doubt sensing this was their last hand and everyone could finally go home.

“Okay, how about we stop beating around the bush and I just bet everything I have,” she said pushing it all into the middle.

“You’re bluffing,” he blurted out, knowing it was impossible she had a hand to beat his flush.

“I guess you’ll have to bet to find out,” she smiled. All he wanted to do was kiss it off her face and that was just for starters. He shook his head reminding himself that he needed to relax.

“Call,” she said, her expression serious. They held each other’s gaze for a prolonged period, Klaus telling himself it was to try and read the poker signs but that wasn’t it at all. He suddenly realised that he could stare at her for hours and never tire.

Not just hours, forever maybe.

He cleared his throat knowing that everyone was now watching in anticipation.

“Straight flush,” he grinned proudly, laying it out on the table. She gave it a brief look before placing hers next to his.

“All red.” Given it was a ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace of diamonds, also known as a royal flush, she was clearly being facetious.

“You played me, Forbes.” He finally uttered amongst the cheers and Rebekah’s insistence that she must have had a winning hand all along.

She pulled the chips towards her happily choosing not to respond immediately. His eyes were still trained on her though, desperate for some kind of response.

“And you underestimated me, Mikaelson,” she murmured.

Yes. Maybe he had underestimated her and everything else.

TBC - Next part will be up tomorrow PM..there’s a chance encounter in the middle of the night, a rehearsal dinner and a slight wedding mishap before the big day. But let me know what you think so far : )

Follow on AO3 HERE

#all you never say #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #misssophiachase #what do you think #let me know #thanks anon #great prompt

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Attached: Words Lost in Translation Pt.2

Type: (mini)-series, Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4110

Summary: There’s a new handsome guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Somehow Bucky knew from the start that he would be a problem.

And now it looks like your substitute professor - no other than Steve Rogers, your boyfriend - will have to save you from having to go on a date with Daniel. Perfetto.

A/N: Attached: Words Lost in Translation is a 3-part addition to the Attached series.

A/N: Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Based on a post sent to me by lovely @wxstedhexrt ♥

Warnings: smug insistent jerk, mentions of harassment, brief panic, threat of violence if you squint, swearing (a lot), and some possessive bf SR

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Had your brain had been working, you would have been able to appreciate how fine the man at the professor stand was looking – wearing a perfectly-fitting dress pants, cream-coloured shirt and a dark suit jacket.

Had the situation been even a tiny bit different, you would have been thrilled to see him, instantly comforted by his mere presence, insanely grateful to have him distract you after you dealt with the menace of a guy claiming the seat next to you.

But the circumstances were what they were and you were positively mortified, because your unwanted suitor was about to challenge your beloved boyfriend to a duel without visibly throwing in a gauntlet; without Steve’s knowledge.

Then again, Steve might know all about your escapades with Daniel as far you were concerned, because him being here, while it could have been caused by many different things, was most definitely Bucky’s doing. He had probably told Steve everything.

For a brief moment, Steve’s gaze caught yours, lingering for just a moment, long enough to let you see the uncharacteristic cold of his beautiful cerulean irises, causing you to gulp in fright.

You were sure you were going to be sick, your stomach somersaulting when you imagined how this could turn out.

Oh Steve was mad, okay. He was very mad, at you – and you were so completely screwed-

A small smile graced his lips, a simple minute shift that allowed you breathe again. Well, if anything, he was about to be civil about it.

Or not. His brows furrowed as his gaze moved a little bit to the right to your companion, the gentle barely-there curve of his mouth straightening instantly. Oh, he absolutely knew who Daniel was.

“Good morning, almost afternoon, class. For those who don’t know me, I’m Professor Rogers and for today, I’ll be taking over Professor Barnes’ lecture,” Steve introduced himself simply and despite the situation at hand, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at his ‘professor voice’ – and yes, that was a thing, you had found yourself on the receiving end of it multiple times…always pleasant ones. “He had to leave because of an urgent personal matter-“

I bet he fucking had to-

“-and he sends his apologies for not letting you know sooner, not that he let me know particularly on time.”

A few chuckles sounded around the class as Steve’s eyes roamed over it with a quirk to his brow.

You practically feel Daniel radiate smugness next to you as he leaned closer, whispering in your ear conspiratorially, sensing an easy win.

“I hope you like Italian cuisine, bellezza,” he hummed self-assuredly and you gave him ana annoyed side-eye as he already bragged, thinking himself a winner of your bet.

And then it dawned to you, through the fog of unexpected events.

There was an upside in Steve being in the class after all; if Daniel had been tasked to catch Steve off guard… well. Even with Steve apparently being informed late about the substitute situation, your problem was solved; no dinner with the jackass sitting next to you.

You just hoped that he would leave you alone after failing to earn today’s date.

And that Steve wouldn’t see much of your ‘normal’ interaction with Daniel, because otherwise you’d be in even bigger trouble than you already were. Or Daniel would. Or Steve would. Probably all of you now that you thought about it.

You mentally prayed Steve had more restraint than your Italian classmate; seeing as Professor Rogers’ shoulders seemed even broader than usual, tense and intimidating, just like the strange glint in his eyes despite his easy smiles, you assumed your prayers should be very much needed.

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About thirty minutes into the lesson, it appeared that the big guy up there took mercy on you, because Daniel had been surprisingly well-behaved, at least when it came to you and kept his hands to himself. Not that you felt like celebrating that, not with Steve probably knowing all about the previous advances anyway.

Otherwise, he had been acting like himself; he had already tried to correct Steve twice and failed, just like with three attempts to ask a question in order to find a gap in Steve’s knowledge. Every time Steve cooled him down, growing visibly less patient with him, caused you to bite into your cheek to supress a smile, because you might have been in deep shit, but you could at least enjoy the show.

And Daniel getting his ass handed to him in a duel that Steve might and might not know about (oh, he knew, we was well-aware that he had the chance to show his dominance, alright, and yes, somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought it was maybe a tiny bit stupid, the stroking of his ego, and that it was also ultimately hot) – was certainly a sight to behold.

Out of blue, a finger poked your thigh, making you nearly jump out of your skin, your head automatically whirling to Daniel in irritation at his intrusion.

The angry ‘WHAT’ got stuck in your throat when he winked at you, his whole expression lit up as a kid’s on Christmas Day.

Shit, you could practically see the metaphorical lightbulb above his head as he made a show of pointedly raising his hand to catch professor’s attention.

You held your breath as Steve noticed him, mild annoyance creeping into his voice as he stopped explaining his thing and encouraged Daniel to speak.

“Yes, Mr. Gallo?” Steve sighed, apparently torn between trying hard not to show his irritation and not caring at all if it was on display.

To your utter horror, your classmate smiled brightly, lowering his hand—and visibly pointing at you.

“Will she go to dinner with me tonight?”

Your vision turned black for a second and it seemed that the whole world just stopped moving. Every shuffle of paper, every faint whisper, absolutely everything went silent in the class. Hell, your heart probably gave out too, pointedly quiet.

The silence sounded so ominous with the anticipation of a storm that even dropping a pin would be a deafening noise in the frozen space. You would swear that everyone sans Daniel and Steve held their breaths… because despite Daniel’s obvious ignorance, the whole damn year – if not the whole damn school – was aware that you were with Steve.

Your gaze reluctantly refocused on the man in question, terrified of what you would see – and you met with the sight of Steve’s eyebrows practically disappearing in his hairline as a sign of surprise; but his eyes, oh his eyes definitely darkened, that much you could tell even from a distance. And his shoulders squared, seemingly enormous in the dark suit.

Oh God, please don’t let him snap at Daniel. Or me. But now mostly Daniel, because we so don’t need another scandal-

Your eyes registered what he was saying before your ears did; a single syllable spoken on an even volume, in fact spoken softly even… and somehow carrying more menace than if shouted.

“No.”

Daniel grew fucking radiant next to you, completely unaware of what was happening as the whole class released a breath, because no one lost an arm or got their neck broken in the purely verbal exchange. Seriously, you didn’t understand how could Daniel be so completely oblivious to the fact that the question he had asked was much more severe and daring than he could ever imagine.

He thought he won and you, honestly, were torn, because Daniel created an amazing paradox that made your brain, already numb from the emotion in Steve’s voice – or the lack of it –, switch off altogether. After all, if you didn’t want to go out with Daniel, then Steve was correct thus you didn’t have to go on the date. However, in a way, you had promised to Daniel to go.

You couldn’t wrap your damn mind around it and Steve kept glaring at Daniel as the guy basked in his supposed victory, until he noticed the professor still staring and actually had the decency to shrink into his seat for a bit.

Steve’s gaze flickered to you – sending you into a cardiac arrest with the intensity of his glare, speaking thousands of words and yet remaining scarily silent – before he averted it in favour of staring down the main culprit.

“And I’ll have to ask both of you to come talk to me after the class is finished.”

Oh yes. You were totally screwed and all three of you were in trouble.

Daniel didn’t seem to realize such though, spinning to you on his chair openly the moment Steve dismissed the class as if he hadn’t been scolded by the professor.

He actually had the audacity to grin at you so cockily that you considered punching his face, saving Steve the trouble of doing it himself (he did look like that could be what he was about to do and you’d rather if he didn’t). If you socked Daniel in his jaw, you’d get the satisfaction and Steve would keep his record without staining it with lost his temper while on the job. Fucking win-win. Let’s do this.

“So. What time am I picking you up?” Daniel hummed confidently, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

Yep, punching it was. You couldn’t believe this guy-

Refraining from violence for few more moments, before the urge truly turned unbearable, you took a deep breath and nodded in Steve’s direction, taking care to refer to him properly: “Professor Rogers wanted to talk to us.”

Daniel rolled his eyes at your poor attempt at deflection and clicked his tongue. “Come on, he can wait five more seconds.”

“Rude to keep him waiting,” you opposed, irked by his attitude… again. Your mind was made. “Plus, he was right, you know. I’m not going out with you.”

Daniel’s eyebrows jumped, one corner of his lips quirking. “Bet’s a bet-“

“Mr. Gallo?” Steve’s impatient voice interrupted the bragger, who turned to him in acknowledgement, not wanting to make him too mad, apparently. As long he was concerned, he had you in his pocket, after all. But did he? “I don’t have all day. And if you could bring the poor girl you’re apparently pursuing with you.”

At that, even you shot Steve a look; his tone was speaking volumes, but you had a hard time reading it anyway.

Poor girl? Really? Was that a promise of what you’d be once he was done with you?

You swallowed your fear, ignoring the pounding of your heart and swiftly stood up, stalking to the stand with Daniel at your heels.

Steve’s strict gaze flickered between the two of you as he crossed his arms on his chest expectantly.

“So. You two want to tell me what that was about? Are we back to high school or what?”

“I’m sorry about hi-“

“There was a bet,” Daniel exclaimed matter-of-factly, causing you to whirl around to shot him an incredulous look.

Really? Straight to the point? He truly had no shame, did he?

But then again, you learned that a while ago.

“A bet,” Steve parroted sceptically. “You chose academic soil for betting… Professor Barnes’s class, no less?”

Daniel ignored the fact that Steve was looking down at him as if he was a low-life and gave you a side eye.

“Yes, Professor, we did-“

“And you think that it’s appropriate? Letting it interrupt a class on top of that, dragging a professor into it?”

You squirmed, wrapping your arms around yourself. Steve spared you a brief glance before he continued glaring murder at your classmate.

You knew that what you had done was probably wrong, but you had expected Bucky, who was pretty easy-going for a scholar; and it had seemed like a better option than punching Daniel.

It had got enormously out of hand, you were aware, but more than having a prof involved, you regretted having involved Steve.

You guessed it was time to face the music.

“I truly apologize, Professor Rogers,” you whispered guiltily, lowering your gaze so you didn’t have to face him, his expression no doubt screaming disappointment.

Something told you that he had been hoping that Daniel was to blame – which he was, but not entirely – and now you were telling him that nope, you were the culprit… sorta. You felt your body shiver as you sensed Steve’s attention shift to you. You also heard the desk creak slightly under his weight – he must have leaned onto it.

“The bet was your idea?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, actually feeling tears pricking your eyes. You nodded and Steve’s reaction was immediate; it was impossible to miss the way his voice softened a fraction when he asked the next question and it made you feel even worse—but goddammit, if Daniel just had left you in peace-

“Why don’t you tell me what it was about?”

“We’ve been flirting-“ Daniel started off, only to get interrupted by a harsh voice.

“I asked her, Mr. Gallo! And mind your tone, please.”

The coldness toward Daniel curiously warmed your heart, a tiny relief spreading in your tense shoulders.

You could do this – this was Steve. He was on your side – at least as long as your suitor, as he had so elaborately put it, was around. Then it might be another story, but you had to deal with one problem at a time.

You cleared your throat and minded to straighten your back, raising your gaze to meet Steve’s. You could feel the encouragement he was giving you, but you could also feel the anger bubbling under the surface rolling off of him.

“Eh, you see, Professor Rogers, it’s just like you said. Daniel was—uhm, he-“ you stumbled over your words nervously as you caught the glint of fury in Steve’s eyes, distracting yourself by pointing at the guy as if it was wasn’t painfully obvious who you were talking about.

“He has been… pursuing me for a while now-“ Steve’s jaw clenched at the admission and even though you supposed he already knew that, it wasn’t any more pleasant to hear that you’d been keeping it from him for a while now. “I-I suppose I wasn’t sending clear enough signals that—ugh, that I wasn’t- wasn’t interested,” your low voice picked up volume as you emphasized that you were not flirting back, pleading Steve to understand… but at the same time, you couldn’t mask the guilt you were feeling and you wanted him to know that you were sorry.

Steve didn’t avert your gaze for a second, listening intently, body rigid.

You quickly hurried to explain the rest, your pulse dangerously high, your face burning.

“Anyway, he was getting-- rather daring and annoying. So, I thought I’d end it once for all. I agreed to go to dinner with him if he managed to ask the professor a question he would answer incorrectly. He apparently thought that this was the most brilliant approach... I’m sorry for- I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed was heavy, sneaking into your lungs and making it hard to breathe, Steve’s unwavering gaze at you causing you to feel like you shrunk several feet. To anyone else, he might appear calm and collected – but you knew him. You could see the unspoken rage, boiling behind the unnaturally cold blue of his irises; what you couldn’t decode was whom it was aimed at… more.

And you couldn’t take it anymore, looking away from him, fighting the tears of anger, humiliation and shame.

“I see,” Steve stated evenly, rising to his full height. “You’ve got anything to add, Mr. Gallo?”

That asshole had the audacity to keep his stupid smug smile on his stupidly handsome face as he shrugged.

“Not much. I would probably disagree on the signals-“ he echoed your words sarcastically, earning an unimpressed glare from Steve; upon that, he cleared his throat and lost about 2% of his arrogance. “While I am sorry for interrupting your class, I am not. Thank you, Professor Rogers, you’ve been very helpful.”

You breathed in shakily when you saw Steve’s hand clench into a fist, a minute jerk of his muscles as he probably felt fresh surge of anger at Daniel’s audacity; the air shifted in a matter of seconds, Steve’s aura changing instantly.

You held your breath in dismay. Surely Steve wouldn’t-

“Oh was I?” Steve challenged the younger man wryly, scanning him head to toe. And that you didn’t expect, because… because it looked like Steve was about to bring the pissing contest that had been going on during the class to another level. His next words left no room for discussion. “To her certainly. I answered correctly, so she is free.”

You blinked in shock, not following. Was he about to argue for the ‘she doesn’t want to go, so she won’t go’ point you had considered pulling before?

Daniel chuckled nervously as he sensed the air change as well. The strangest thing was, Steve didn’t seem angry. He looked almost… smug.

…why?

“Eeeeh, no, you didn’t-“

“Yes I did,” Steve said resolutely, easing his posture in order to tower slightly above your classmate. “She won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”

“Yes, she will,” Daniel chuckled derisively as if it was far too obvious and Steve was being stupid. “She said that if-“

“I heard her. I heard you too. And I’m telling that she won’t be having dinner with you tonight.”

Daniel’s confusion was almost palpable, but then again, so was yours.

“She’ll be having dinner with me.”

The shriek coming out of your mouth-- you only imagined that, right? You did not release that sound even if Steve just--- he- did he just tell Daniel that-?

You felt yourself turn into a statue, eyes probably tragicomically wide when Steve’s tension vanished, his lips spreading in a positively sweet smile, sending it your direction. There was no malice in it – for now. However, you could tell he was enjoying the way he rendered both you and Daniel speechless immensely.

There was no mistaking the sparks of mischief and possession, barely covered by the genuine affection shining in his gaze.

“Like most of the nights,” he added for a good measure and you were ready to pass out. And then he made it all better: “You liked the lecture, sweetheart? I know Bucky’s hard to live up to.”

The petname snapped you from the trance; you swallowed the fear of consequences – the fight-in-making with Steve and a fit from Daniel –, and returned the smile, taking the two steps to Steve’s side.

He tenderly grasped your forearm and slipped two fingers under your ¾ sleeve to caress the sensitive skin, sending pleasant shivers up your spine.

Alright… in for a penny, in for a pound it was. You threw caution out of the window, along with the worries about the upcoming dealing with Steve; like you said, one problem at a time. If Steve had decided to show Daniel hat you were, well, you could as well join.

“Well, uhm, if anything, I think you certainly left an impression, Steve.”

One corner of Steve’s lips lifted in a lop-sided smile as he must have remembered that he had doubted doing exactly that when he had entered Bucky’s class the first time and unwittingly become your muse.

Also, he probably appreciated you not saying a word about the boys’ night, which was bound to get in the way of you two in fact having the aforementioned dinner.

“That’s all I can ask for, sweetheart,” he murmured, arm snaking around your waist and gently pulling you to his side, sending a clear message.

She’s mine. Fuck off.

“No.”

Safe in Steve’s arms, you almost had to laugh at the incredulous sound Daniel made.

Steve’s smile slipped, on the other hand, his demeanour hard and uncompromising.

“Yes,” came his reply, scarily calm as his shoulders squared.

And yet, despite his stern posture, the kiss he dropped to your hairline was soft and had you automatically melting into him no matter how taken aback you were at the turn of events.

Comfort and safety. He had you.

Protectiveness melting into possessiveness. He’d never let this filthy guy touch you again-

“No way. You- you’re not-“ Daniel stuttered, actually taking a step back as a doubtful chuckle left his lips. It made your blood boil that he suddenly thought so little of you, that you could never – because Steve was clearly out of your league. Well, you certainly thought so sometimes, but that wasn’t the point. It was insulting, really, how shocked he seemed. “You’re not dating a-”

“Professor? This specimen?” you tried to finish his sentence, making a point of laying a palm on Steve’s chest. His warm one covered your hand in an instant and you couldn’t but look up at him and smile gratefully, suddenly feeling much stronger. “Why? Because he’s too good for me? Maybe. But maybe he thinks I’m principessa too.”

Due to the close proximity, you could feel every muscle tense in Steve’s body, his fingers digging into your flesh, and only then it occurred to you that trying to sass Daniel by throwing his special petname for you back at him was not the best idea, seeing as it was a new and very much unwelcomed information for Steve.

Welp, too late.

“It’s—that’s not the--- dating professors is against the-“

“Rules?” Steve interrupted, raising a challenging eyebrow. He stepped forward, slipping from the embrace, your hand limply sliding down his chest and falling to your side as he stood between you and Daniel as a human shield. It was comforting, to be honest. And kinda hot. “It’s not. Educate yourself better at the university policy if you feel the need. Then maybe you’d realize that harassing women is against the rules and good morality. From what I heard, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Your stomach clenched and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Was that what Bucky told him? That Daniel had been harassing you? Not that it wasn’t the truth you guessed, but you expected Bucky to paint you in worse light. That was… unexpected to say at least.

What did it mean for you though? Did that mean that Steve wasn’t angry with you at all then? But—

Or was this an act for Daniel? You didn’t think so… mostly because you had never heard Steve so cold and calculating and honestly, he was scaring you a bit as he towered over Daniel – even if it was to protect you.

Daniel’s throat worked visibly as he faced Steve, having to look up not only because Steve was taller, but also because his mere presence, as always, felt enormous.

“So, Mr.Gallo, I’d truly appreciate if you left my girlfriend alone before this grows into a bigger problem.”

Fuck, if you weren’t worried about how Steve would react when you were alone – he... he wouldn’t break up with you over this asshole, would he? – you’d actually be very proud of your boyfriend and his choice of words. That was the best indirect threat you could actually think of.

Before I lose my patience.

Before you regret it.

Before we take this outside.

Anything like that could be considered dangerous for Steve’s position, giving Daniel ammunition – he could complain that Steve was threatening him. But not this.

“Do we have an understanding?” Steve practically growled, causing Daniel to wince and take another minor step back.

“Yes,” he shrieked, quickly swallowing to even his high-pitched voice. He didn’t dare to as much as peek around Steve’s form to look at you. “Crystal clear, Professor Rogers.”

“Glad to hear that.”

You could imagine the wolfish smile Steve gave him as Daniel hurried to pick up his stuff and swiftly walked out of the auditorium without sparing you a glance or a single word.

Though you would swear you heard him muttering under his breath; it sounded a lot like…. troia? But you couldn’t be sure, because you still couldn’t speak Italian and the only thing it reminded you of was the Troy War and something told you that was not it. In fact, you were pretty sure it was some sort of an insult – just giving another reason for Steve’s glare to follow him and remaining fixed on the door long moments after he was gone.

Steve sighed heavily and as you saw his torso expand with an inhale, you felt like he sucked out all the air from the room. Somehow, even with Daniel gone, the atmosphere tasted ominous – if not worse than before.

Steve didn’t look at you as he grabbed his things, beckoning you to gather yours. He didn’t meet your gaze when he was waiting for you.

“Come on. Let’s get out of this damn room before I lose my mind and do something I’ll regret later.”

Yeah. It was definitely worse than before.

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Part 3 (final for A:WLiT)

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Vocabulary: Belleza - pretty chick... (really, I just simply assured that it’s something a smug jackass like Daniel would call a woman) Troia - bitch

Thank you for reading!

Also, thank you for your reactions to the previous chapter, they seemed to vary from calling her a dumbass and feeling sorry for her, mostly calling Daniel a jerk and other names...

I hope you enjoyed this one too. Buckle up for the last part, people, and don’t forget to read the warnings before diving in 😉

102 notes · View notes

strawberrywritings · 4 years

Text

A/N: Here is part 3 of what I decided to call “Partners in benefits” (no imagination, my titles just state the obvious lmao). This pieces were so much fun to write and I hope you enojyed them, too! Thank you for the support, I love you all x

Part 1 / Part 2 / Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of death and sexual intercourse, angst

If there was something Rio took pride in, it was his ability in staying calm in difficult situations. Calm, collected, and cold, because that was what his job required. He had lost count of how many times he’d had a gun pointed at him, yet he always felt the same adrenaline rush; now, it was adrenaline rush mixed with something else: feelings. He didn’t know which ones, he’d think about that later, now his focus was on you, on the gun your hand, and the determination in your eyes. None of you dared to speak for a while.

“What are you doing?”, his tone of voice never changed, his mind switched to business-mode. “If you take your gun out, we can have a Mexican standoff. Otherwise, sit down”, your words were clear, desperately trying not to show all the emotions bubbling up inside. Your head tilted to the side, towards your table, and Rio sat down in one of the chairs, reaching for his gun and putting it on the table. “What are you doing, mama?”, his eyes were soft on yours, trying to understand what was going on in your head. Usually, he could scare everyone with a look, make them backtrack everything they had said, win the fight easily… but he had a feeling, this time, that was not going to work: he would not be able to win easily, he had no idea if he would win at all. “Why don’t you put that gun down and we talk?”, he put his elbows on the table and you laughed. “Talk? Is that how you call ‘murder’, now? I’m not stupid, Rio, I know where this is going.” “And where is this going?”. “One of us is dying tonight, and I’m not giving up without a fight”.

There was something in your eyes, something he couldn’t put his finger on: anger? Fear? Survival instinct? He licked his lips before speaking and he tried to keep his composure because he was torn between shooting you and not having to worry about what you might do or taking the gun and talk it out. “Killing me is not going to make your problems disappear. Killing me is going to double them. You kill me, you’ll have people coming for you”. “You are where my problems started. You fucking Beth was the first problem, you not cutting your shit with her was the second problem, and you fucking me was the end of it all. Do you see where I am?”, his eyes were trained on your eyes and then looked at the gun in your hands, “I see it”, he nodded and he looked into your eyes again. “You and your big ass ego are what got me in this situation. You think you can go around and fuck everyone you want and get away with it because you have all this money and power. You don’t care about what can happen to the people you fuck around with. Well, now you can’t run away from the consequences anymore. Your business with the girls is ruined, just like my life, and whether I die or not, tonight you lose something”.

Rio was speechless, he had no idea you could be this hurt from his actions and everything they caused. He knew you were probably pissed, but this? He was in deep shit. He was 90% sure he wouldn’t die, but you were right, his business was damaged and that was a problem, but he had to get that gun out of your hands. “Great speech – he started – but nobody’s gonna die”. You looked at him in disbelief, giving a humorless laugh. “I’m not fucking playing. Do you think I don’t know what happens when someone decides they want out? They don’t get to simply walk away. And you know what’s worse for me? I let myself be fooled by you, I let you play me, I trusted you. Fuck, I may even have feelings for you, at this point”. Rio noticed how your voice was starting to break, how your eyes were getting teary, even if you were trying to keep your feelings in check not to look, or sound, weak. You wanted to at least get the upper hand for a bit, buy yourself some time and figure something out, but your mind was full of Rio, Rio, Rio and your time was running out.

Rio got up, your hand instinctively gripped the gun tighter, as he walked slowly towards you with that damn smirk on his face. “You got feelings for me, huh?”, he stood right in front of the gun, his smile only getting bigger once your eyes met again. “This is not the point, don’t try to change the subject”, your stare was hard, your hand firm. “Do you remember when we watched ‘The Departed’? You had all your theories, things you thought were gonna happen. You’re good at seeing what could go wrong, and this is why you’re good at what you do”, he was still smiling. “I’m not part of that anymore, in case you’ve forgotten”. “Let me finish. As I was saying… when you were there, I was so annoyed that you wouldn’t stop talking, but when you left that night… I didn’t want you to leave. And I thought that it was just business for you, so I kept shit to myself. I tried not to think about you, but you don’t leave my fucking mind. When I went to the girls tonight it was to see you, I haven’t called you in two weeks because I don’t want you to think I’m just using you for sex, and going there was the only way I could see you. They told me what they did to you”. There was a pause and now you couldn’t help but cry, the gun wavering slightly in your hand. Rio looked sorry, he was beating himself up mentally for letting all of this happen, for even letting it get this far. “I never meant to hurt you, mama. I’m not good at expressing emotions, but… I care about you, not just as a business partner. That’s why I’m telling you to lower this this thing here – his hand reached out and touched the gun – and talk shit out with me. ‘Cause I can’t live with knowing you got hurt because of me”. His hand was careful, gripping the base of the gun, and when he was sure you wouldn’t press the trigger, he made quick work of taking the firearm out of your hand and putting it on the table. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him, rubbing your back soothingly while you sobbed against him. He held you for what felt like hours and he didn’t let go when your crying stopped, “So you’re not gonna kill me?”, you asked, sniffling. He laughed softly and shook his head, “Nah” you nodded and he kissed your head, rocking you from side to side.

“What happens now?”, you asked, looking up at him. He smiled and put both his hands on your hips. “Whatever you want, we can think about the rest tomorrow. What do you say?”, one of his hands was on your cheek, stroking your skin. “I’d like that”, you muttered and looked at his lips for a second, then back in his eyes. He started to lean towards you, pulling your face closer to his while giving you time to back away if you didn’t want to kiss him. You didn’t think twice about it and closed the distance between your lips. The kiss started soft, your body feeling warm and melting into his, after a few moments, he deepened the kiss and pressed you against the wall, hiking one of your legs around his waist. “Take me home, Rio”, your voice was breathless, your mouth moving to his neck and giving a few kisses there. He groaned and gripped the flesh of your thigh with his hand, so hard he’d probably leave a bruise. “Not sure I can wait till we get home”, he ground his hips into yours, making you gasp in surprise at the friction. There was a newfound hunger for each other; after calling Mick and telling him he could go home and after having sex in the backseat of his car, you made it home and you didn’t leave the bed till the early hours of the morning, only getting back to the bed to sleep after taking a hot shower.

Rio only slept for a few hours; first, he had to make sure you wouldn’t try anything on him, so he stayed up when you fell asleep against him, then, he had to fix Beth, and the girls. He woke up with your body next to his, he looked at you for a moment, before he made his way to the bathroom, to get ready for the day. He left you a note in the kitchen, saying he would be out all day, but you could make yourself at home and wait for him to talk things out in evening. You were still a bit scared about everything that happened the night before, you weren’t a hundred percent sure Rio had forgiven you for pulling a gun on him, seeing how he still hadn’t forgiven Beth for doing the same. He called you a couple times to check up on you, sending some guys to the house to keep you company. Before coming home that evening, he made a detour to Beth’s house, knowing everyone was out and she was about to come home. Him and Mick waited for her in the house, and he smiled once they scared her, she wasn’t expecting them, especially not in her own house. “What do you want?”, she was slowly making her way to the counter, to take out the groceries. “Just paying a visit”, he shrugged. “Busy day?”, she asked, hoping her small talk could make him stay a bit longer. “Not as busy as your days from now on, cause you’re gonna double the work”, she looked at him, confused. “What does that mean? I am not the one you should be angry with! She is!”, Beth was fuming, not even wanting to say your name. “You wanna have someone else pay for the problems you caused, and I ain’t good with that. She told me what happened, and yes, I was the one asking her to change the deal, ‘cause I didn’t wanna be around you. You thought that us having sex meant something to me? You think I need you? Ain’t nothing but a damn charity case to me”, Beth stood frozen, looking like she was about to cry. “Gotta get back to my girlfriend, now”, Rio lifted himself off the wall he was leaning on and made his way to the door. “Wait- girlfriend!?”. Rio didn’t answer and got out of the house with Mick, leaving her standing there, alone.

He told Mick he could go home and he drove straight to his house, finding you in the kitchen, preparing dinner and, honestly, he didn’t think you’d still be here. “Hey, mama”, he came up behind you, putting his hands beside you on the counter, successfully trapping you. “Hi”, you were still making dinner, you were not facing him yet, so he dropped his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck. Once dinner was finished and the dished were done, he sat down with you on the sofa. You beat him and talked first, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was upset and scared and I… I would never hurt you”, you were out of breath because you said everything fast, afraid of missing you chance to speak. “That wasn’t very nice, yeah. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”. You recounted how you felt alone after being excluded from the girls’ group, how you feared for your life and, therefore, how you were afraid of him. He let you explain yourself and his guilt came back up for a second.

“I didn’t know ‘bout it, but I fixed it”, he said, “You don’t have to worry about them anymore”. “what did you do to them?”, your voice sounded alarmed and worried. He shook his head with a smile. “Nothing, just doubled their work”, he shrugged. You were silent for a minute. “What happens to me, now? I’m out of the business…”, you trailed off, not knowing what he was going to say. “You might not be in their business, but I still want you in mine. You could help me keep track of the warehouses, for now”, he watched you closely, wanting to see how you’d react to that, then, he spoke again. “But first, I want to take you out. A proper date”, your eyes went wide at his words, not expecting this proposal at all. “I know thigs are not done usually in this order, the date should come first”, he smiled when you giggled and nodded. “It should, but I’d love to go out with you”, you smiled brightly at him and he swore he’d do everything to always have you smile like that.

Later that night, after he convinced you to spend the night with him (it really didn’t take much for you to give in), you were cuddled up in his bed, Rio being the big spoon and pulling you to his chest with his arm. “Be my girl?”, he whispered as he brought his hand to your face to make you look at him. You simply nodded and turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand, turning again to press a soft kiss to his lips. You fell asleep curled up against him, one of his arms stretched over you as he looked at you, a soft smile on his face as he kissed your forehead, shutting his eyes, too, and falling asleep.

#my writing #rio x reader #rio x fem!reader #rio imagine

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incorrectly-quoted-queers · 4 years

Text

Maybe Loving Someone at Kaer Morhen

@nim-nim-1994 and @g-l-o-w-y-l-i-g-h-t-s asked for it soooooo

Expanding my Countess Break-Up chat into a mini-fic

It’s your faults

.....

“I don’t understand women sometimes. I mean, the Countess and I were having a great time. Why did she have to ruin it?”

Though Jaskier was comfortably laying in the grass, Yennefer preferred a couch under a tree. Initially Vesemir wasn’t too keen on a sofa being in the training area, but per usual, Yennefer won the argument.

He’d never been a huge fan of hers, but they had a sort of bond now, watching over Ciri and the Witchers at Kaer Morhen. They wouldn’t admit it, but it was the closest either of them got to a happy home life.

Perched on her proverbial queen’s throne, Yennefer rolled her eyes. “I think perhaps you sleeping with her husband ruined it, love.”

“I thought bringing equality and honesty to their marriage would’ve been good for them.” Flicking an insect off his pants, Jaskier wondered why he never got himself a sofa.

Granted, it would be harder to see the sun in the shade.

When Yennefer didn’t add anything, he continued his complaining. He wasn’t quite done yet, and her silence was not going to stop him now. “What will I even do with myself, without a lover to entertain myself with? Should I find a local noble? A wandering hero? A beautiful tavern flower? The options sound tantalizing, but they are so few and far between up here where no one but jaded Witchers hang their damn hats.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Of all things, Jaskier did not like her tone. He propped himself up on his elbows and knitted his brows. “I know you don’t care about romance right now, too busy being a mother hen, but it is an absolute staple of my personality, thank you.”

“No, you absolute-” Yennefer sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, like he said something profoundly stupid. He knew the look because she often looked at him this way, but this one seemed especially sour. “You know Geralt’s in love with you, right?”

The laughter that bubbled out of Jaskier wasn’t cute, to say the least. “Geralt? Give a rat’s ass about me? Hardly.”

“You idiot men are so clueless.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Well then get smarter.” Yennefer leaned into the arm of her sofa and rested her face on her hands. “He’s been mooning after you for years. But he’s a sad, tragic prick who will never say anything. I thought you chose not to notice.”

Jaskier sat up all the way and pressed a hand to his beating heart. “You have to be fucking with me. Of course I’d notice if my Witcher had any feelings for me.” And if he did, how dare you not tell me sooner.

“You can’t be serious-” After getting this laser-focus look in her eye, Yennefer gasped. “Oh my god, you are. I never bothered to look into your mind because I assumed it was full of drivel, but you sincerely think that blatant fool of a man doesn’t pine after you.” Then she frowned. “Wait, what was that song about my tits in there-”

Jolting up, Jaskier started to walk away as quickly as he could. He didn’t need to die by magical hands just as he got possibly the most important information of his life.

If Geralt really did feel that way-

Well, be still his damned beating heart, this changed everything.

So, it was time to test Yennefer’s assertion.

Jaskier mustered up all his courage and extravagant acting skills for this one, as he walked up the steps to Geralt’s room. He hadn’t gotten to say hello to him yet, since coming back from the Countess. The bard assumed that his stupid Witcher didn’t care.

Maybe he was wrong this whole time.

But if he was going to pull this little gambit off, he really had to sell it. Giving himself a few seconds to get the right proper tragic, dramatic face, he didn’t knock on Geralt’s wooden door. No, he just waltzed himself in, slamming it and making as much noise as possible.

And there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, his cotton shirt half on, cleaning the blades of his swords. Those yellow eyes looked up at him and, now that the bard was paying attention, there was a flicker of something bright before a deep scowl took over his face.

“Jaskier-”

The bard wasn’t going to let his expressions push him away, with some growl or bark to try to bite away at the bard’s desire to be by his side. No, this time he had supposed insider information and Jaskier was going to run with it.

Flopping on Geralt’s bed, pouting up at the Witcher, Jaskier said, “That’s it. I’m never dating another woman again.”

He looked for any movement on Geralt’s face from the corner of his eye; he almost missed the twitch of a smile. “Countess dumped you?”

“Yes, but not the usual one. It seems my type is unavailable women who will never compromise or accept me as I am, not to my face, at least.” Well, that wasn’t quite what happened, but this fit his little game a bit better.

Ever the bizarre friend, Geralt patted his shoulder like he was a damned horse. “You’re a good bard.”

That wasn’t exactly what Jaskier was looking for, and it made him a little huffy. Maybe Yennefer was talking out of her ass, just trying to make a fool out of him.

“My ego needs no stroking, Geralt, I know I’m wonderful. I just think it’s high time I focus solely on men for awhile.”

As if by magic, those stressless shoulders stiffened. Now, if it was because he had interest or merely was uncomfortable with Jaskier talking about boning men while on his bed, that was the next step. After a beleaguered silence of creepily watching the Witcher’s every face-twitch, the man coughed and said, “Like who?”

Jaskier had to choke on a few breaths to resuscitate his damn heart. Holy hell, Yennefer might’ve been on to something.

Now was not the time to panic. Sure, he’d been somewhat interested in hearing Geralt say his name among strained groans for years at this point. But he couldn’t get too excited and scare the clam of a man. Otherwise he’d shut the fuck up, and fast.

He swallowed and tried to act casual, doing his normal egregious hand gestures. “Same type, honestly, just different sexy bits.”

If the bard didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn those stiff shoulders were now melting into the slightest blush peeking from the back of the Witcher’s neck.

He had to keep going.

Sitting up slowly, knowing he was positioning himself a little closer to Geralt than he normally would, Jaskier said, “Now just to find myself a good option.”

Geralt mumbled something.

Jaskier had to keep pushing. “What was that?”

Under his breath, the Witcher said, “Maybe one is closer than you think.”

Oh, so the man was going to play vague with him. That was... something. But he also knew Geralt a little too well, and vague never went anywhere. He had to keep sending him towards the brink of bubbling thoughts before the man would tip over and talk about his damn feelings.

So, he pulled the meanest card he could.

Smirking, Jaskier countered, “Do you mean Lambert? Because whilst he’s a delinquent, I have to admit, he’s got a decent face--”

“Absolutely not.” The response practically rumbled out of Geralt’s chest like fucking thunder.

Jaskier wasn’t sure if he should be a little scared or turned on.

Probably both, if he was going to be honest.

Before he could say anything about it, Geralt put his sword on the bed and bolted upright. “Never mind, you’re not dating anyone here, ever.”

And then he walked out of the damn room.

Funny, considering it was his room in the first place.

The second Geralt’s door slammed behind him, Jaskier let out an embarrassing snort of laughter. He’d hate telling Yennefer she was right, but this one might actually be worth it.

Running his hand across the hilt of Geralt’s blade, wondering how long the Witcher had been keeping romantic secrets from him, Jaskier said to himself, “Don’t act so sure about that, Geralt of Rivia.” And then he sputtered out some more unladylike laughter that’d he really have to deal with another day that wasn’t today. “Now the real fun begins.”

Just as he stopped talking, though, the door slammed back open and Geralt had this perturbed frown on his face. “This is my room.”

“Yes, and you just stomped out of it. It was quite adorable.”

The frown on the Witcher’s face deepened. “I was tending my blades. Out.”

“Alright, alright.” Even though he was exiting Geralt’s room for now, he was still going to leave the man with some torment. Jaskier smiled over his shoulder and asked, “But what if tonight, since we haven’t seen each other in awhile, we shared a bed like those poor early days of travel? How nostalgic that’d be, tucked up against you and-”

“Out.”

Face forward, Jaskier had to hide his overblown smiles to keep the ruse going. “See you later, Geralt.”

As the door shut behind him, he really couldn’t wait for the next time those yellow eyes met his. After all, he was going to make the stubborn man tell him what he felt, if it was the last thing he did.

...

(Maybe could do a part 2, dunno, depends on if y’all want it, tell me if you’re interested <3)

Edit: Part 2 and Part 3

#Witcher fanfic #Witcher fandom #geraskier #Geralt x Jaskier #Bard x Witcher #Yennefer the wingman #Kaer Morhen #Geralt's secret feelings #Jaskier tricking the witcher #romantic angst #Pranking Geralt #fantasy boyfriends #friends to lovers

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siriuslyblack12 · 4 years

Text

chapter 10

Sirius watched amusedly as James ran a hopeless hand through his already messy hair, groaning and mumbling curses under his breath. It seemed more genuine then he expected, his façade weakening and revealing the gentle teenage boy underneath. Sirius was probably the only person that could tell this, of course, having known James and his habits for years. A few students ran past them as they stood in an excluded corner of the school field, Remus sat in the shade with a battered book and Peter running from a group of angered year 7 with bags in his hand.

“I can’t do it,” James said, turning back on his heel.

Sirius put an arm out to stop him, pushing at his shoulders so that they faced each other, “Sure you can, Jamie-boy, it’s not like you haven’t done it a million times before.”

“But that was different!” He insisted, his hand coming up to cover his face. “It was never serious, maybe it was for me, but it was always a joke and the end of the day. This is real.”

“Relax mate, you’re only asking Evans to the prom. It’s not rocket science.”

James rolled his eyes, cheeks pinking as he gave Sirius a pointed look, “And anyway, of all of the times I’ve asked her out, how many has she said yes?”

Sirius barked a laugh, throwing a comforting hand over his friend’s shoulders. They both looked over to where Lily was sat with Remus, pointing at the book and explaining something animatedly. Her hair appeared strawberry blonde in the cold autumn air, cooler and gradually getting longer after her sister cut her hair over the summer. James had given her compliment after compliment, but she continued to fail to believe him.

Sirius sighed, “James, listen to me. You’re a good guy, and you two are great friends. All you need is a bit of charm and you’ll win her over, take it from me. She’d have to be stupid to say no to you.”

“I think friends is the key word there, Padfoot.”

“You’re not exactly making it easy to comfort you, you know.” Sirius said, smiling nonetheless. He looked over to the shade of the tree to see Lily now looking back at him, whispering hurriedly to his boyfriend. “And besides, I don’t think I want to stand here and stroke your ego.”

“Fuck off, you could at least pretend to like me.” James gave his friend a rather rude gesture, too wrapped up in it to notice Lily get up from where she was sat, grabbing Remus’s hand to follow her.

Sirius flicked his hair over his shoulder, “Most people would be grateful to have Sirius Black as their friend, don’t take it for granted.”

“I hate you sometimes, Pads.”

“Love you too,” He blew a kiss at James, simply laughing harder as he was cursed out half-heatedly. James threw a punch to his shoulder, making Sirius do the same and before long they’d dissolved into a wrestling match right there on the field. After being pinned to the ground, Sirius shouted, “Get off me! To think Re says I’m the dog in the group.”

“If by ‘dog’ you mean greasy mutt, then he’s not wrong.” James chided, before Sirius pressed a heavy hand to his shoulders and switched their positions. His glasses fell into the grass beside him, dry mud dirtying the lenses as he scrambled to pick them back up again.

Sirius suddenly got off him, patting his chest a little too hardly, “Prongs mate, 3 o’clock.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

“3 o’clock,” Sirius said, loud and fast, thrusting his glasses back into his face messily.

James pushed him back over, “I don’t care what bloody time it is, you prick.”

“James,” A call from a distant head of red hair brought him out of his trance, her face slightly amused and patronising as she looked down at the two dishevelled boys. The boy in question hurried to try to fix his hair and clothes, punching Sirius discreetly in the side. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course, my love,” James gave an exaggerated bow, to which Lily rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Lily muttered, mostly to herself as she threw a glance to Remus. He gave her an encouraging thumbs up, but was now too enthralled with Sirius. She continued, “It’s just-, well, why is this so hard?”

James gave her a soft smile, “What is it, Evans, finally realised how much I have to offer?”

“You know prom’s coming up,” She added quickly, wilfully ignoring him. At the very mention of it he began to cough loudly, doubling over with shock. When none of his friends came to his side, his bottom lip came out in what could only be described as a pout.

He spoke breathlessly, “Are you trying to ask me to prom?”

“Just answer me before I change my mind.” Despite what she was saying, a small smile flickered across her blank face.

“Of course I’ll go with you,” James said softly, unbelieving. He chanced a look at Remus and Sirius, both biting their lips as they watched the other couple knowingly. Sirius was wearing his signature smirk proudly, next to a Remus who had more of a small, pleased smile. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

As soon as she said it, she turned and walked briskly away from him, leaving a flustered James Potter in her wake. Sirius turned to his boyfriend as she passed them, noting the way she bit her lip like a pre-teen girl, “I reckon they’ll be rather cute once Prongs gets his head out of his arse.”

Remus laughed sarcastically, “Yeah, I can’t wait to spend prom listening to them bicker.”

“It’s not all bad, you’ll have me,” Sirius replied hopefully. “If you want to go with me, that is…”

“You might have to give me a bit of time to consider,” Remus teased, earning a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Let’s see how romantic Sirius Black can be, eh?”

“It’s gonna be so romantic you won’t know what hit you!”

As Remus made his way down the empty English corridor alongside Mary and Dorcas, both too enthralled in their own gossip to notice anything out of the ordinary, he couldn’t help but have a strange feeling. He could almost tell that something was going to go wrong sooner or later, an uncomfortable sensation washing over him. He tried to listen to what his friends were saying, but whoever’s life they were speculating was far too complicated to get into at this point. Something about Alice and a guy called Frank, drama aplenty.

Mary shook her head frantically at something Dorcas had said, “I heard Snape had a crush on her, which got Frank really pissy even thought Snape’s way out of her league anyway.”

“Not to mention an asshole.” Dorcas added, leaning in closer so that only Mary and Remus could hear her, “Plus, she wouldn’t do that to Lily.”

“Do what to Lily?” Remus questioned, intrigued by the mention of the red-headed girl.

“Snape and Lily dated for a while along time ago, before he got in with the wrong group of people and started being a bit of a prick, or so she says.” Dorcas explained. Remus hadn’t known Lily for as long as it felt like he had, and hearing that was a stark reminder. Lily and Snape?

Mary continued, “She hates the guy now, obviously, otherwise she wouldn’t have asked Potter to prom.”

“I still can’t believe she did,” Dorcas pushed her hair out of her face, fishing in her pocket for her timetable. “Although I have to say Marlene’s ask was much better, I got flowers and chocolate and everything.”

“Sounds cheesy.” Mary said.

“It sounds cute,” Remus defended, nudging Dorcas’s arm comfortingly. Dorcas and Marlene had always had a strong relationship, one that made people as happy as it made them envious. Even homophobes would have to admit that they were perfect for each other. He turned to Mary, “Are you and Pete going together?

She smiled, “Yeah, it’ll be good fun.”

As soon as she said it, as if the universe heard it and decided to spite them, Snape appeared from around the corner, a blue bruise forming on his eye as he poked at his bleeding lip. His greasy hair fell into his eyes as he staggered towards the three of them, a small smile serving as a disturbing contrast to the state he was in.

“What the hell happened?” Remus stepped back from him, examining his face. “Are you alright?”

“Ask your boyfriend,” He sneered, the last word spat out with all the bitterness he could muster. Spots of red fell from his lip to his shirt, already beginning to swell.

Remus’s eyes widened, “Sirius did this?”

“You should put a leash on him, Lupin. I suppose you were smart, dating the school’s attack dog.” Snape tried to push past them, only to be stopped by the girls, noses flared in anger.

“If I were you I’d fuck off back to your friends before that black eye gets even worse.” Mary exclaimed firmly. Dorcas nodded in agreement, glancing at a frozen Remus. Snape looked at him for a moment, studying his face, before bounding in the opposite direction, sure to flip them off as he went. Remus struggled to comprehend what he had said, whether Sirius actually fought and bruised Snape.

Dorcas brought him out of it, kind smile on her face, “C’mon Re, don’t worry about it. You know he just says stuff like that to piss people off, the gimp.”

“I know, I know,” He brushed her off, looking down at the floor to avoid looking her in the face. “But is it so unbelievable that he’d do that?”

“Surely you of all people know that’s not true,” Dorcas reasoned.

“I love him, I really do, but we all know his temper’s about as short as Peter.” Remus bit at his nails, fingers fiddling. “I need to go talk to him.”

With that, he waved goodbye to Mary and Dorcas, reassuring them that he was alright and that he wouldn’t cause any trouble. When he thought about it, it really wouldn’t be too out of reach for Sirius to do something like that.

No, don’t think like that. He’s your boyfriend. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

He deserves it more than Snape.

“Moony, babe, ‘m not complaining or anything but… why exactly are we in the back of the library?”

“It’s not like that, I just want to talk.”

“If you’re sure,”

Sirius hadn’t put up the slightest of a fight when Remus had dragged his hand away from where he’d been mid-prank with James, even talking excitedly the entire way to the library. Remus vaguely remembered the ghost of hands squeezing his own, voice racing a mile a minute like he was incapable of slowing down. He’d always admired that about the long-haired boy, once he was passionate about something there was no stopping him.

Remus took his hand between his own, letting out a short breath as he avoided the burning of his eyes, “What happened with Snape?”

“That fucking prick-”

“Sirius,” He started, meeting his eyes with the best sad look he possibly could.

The boy in front of him seemed to calm almost immediately, “Ok, ok, just keep in mind that he is actually a fucking prick, okay?”

“You’re really not helping yourself, you know.”

“Just hear me out, okay,” After Remus pressed his lips together and nodded, he continued. “Prongs and I were just walking down the corridor minding our own business, and he comes up to us shouting insult after insult. You should have heard him, Re, acting like James had stolen Evans like she was one of his possessions and I was the scum of the Earth for running away from home. You should be proud of me for how long I lasted without punching him. I lost it when he said you were a poof.”

“You’re telling me you made him bleed because he said I was a poof!” Remus had to fight to keep his voice down as his throat threatened to break with the weight of it while Sirius fought to keep their hands together.

The corners of his mouth turned up, “Well, defending your honour and all that.”

“I never asked you to defend my honour,” Remus’s voice had dropped down to a whisper out of pure anger, bubbling just below the surface.

“Thought it came with the whole boyfriend title, really.” His tone was joking, but his face was becoming serious as he studied his boyfriend. They were silent for a few moments, a contrast to the quick temper that had been brewing and that one of them was known for.

Remus pursed his lips, “You can’t just go around punching people, Sirius.”

“Well I wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for Snape,” Sirius reasoned, face reddening. He was drawing back, becoming more tentative and hesitant with every second as walls came up around him.

Balling his fists up, Remus started slowly, “He’s got it in for me now, you do know that right? And you too.”

“He hates us anyway, didn’t you hear what he said!”

The change in tone took Remus by surprise, Sirius now out of his chair and running a hand through impossibly perfect hair. He knew it was unfair to be so hostile about it, but he couldn’t help but be frustrated by the boy in front of him. It felt as if he was weak, that he wasn’t able to fight his own battles or stand up for himself and his friends always had to do it for him. He didn’t want to rely on them for every little things, they already do enough for me.

Before he could turn back, or say anything he would regret, he too got up out of his seat and made his way towards the door of the library. He was hearing through cotton as Sirius called out to him, “Re, wait. Let’s talk about this…”

But he was already gone, out of the door and not strong enough to look back. He knew that if he did he would probably break down under the weight of his own self-doubt and hatred, crying and pathetically in his boyfriends’ arms even if he didn’t think he deserved it.

James looked at Sirius from where he was in front of the mirror, tie tangled as if a 5 year old had done it. His outfit was dishevelled and slightly off, especially his infamous hair sticking up at all angles. It was prom night, though as it was it would be a while before they were presentable, “How long until we ask mum for help?”

“We are not asking mum to tie our ties James. We’re 17 for fuck sake.”

“Well what do you suggest then, smart arse,” James sat down gingerly on the bed, throwing a pile of clean clothes to the floor to give himself space.

Sirius bit his lip, tilting his head to the side, “Find a tutorial on YouTube or something, I don’t know.”

James’s eyes widened as if that hadn’t even crossed his mind as he scrolled through his phone with purpose. A few seconds passed when he must have clicked on a suitable video, blasting a kind-sounding woman through the room. They’d been trying to get ready for near enough an hour, every attempt unsuccessful. Formal wear wasn’t exactly their strong suit.

“Have you spoken to Remus yet?” James pressed gently and curiously. He’d been avoiding starting the conversation ever since Sirius had explained what happened in the library, still confused about it himself.

Sirius looked down at his feet, “Not yet.”

“You need to, considering he’ll be at the house in about 5 minutes”

“I know that,” He let out a frustrated sigh, embarrassed at his sudden disposition. “I just… don’t know how. What would I even say?”

“He’s your boyfriend, not mine. You could start by asking him if there’s anything else wrong.” James reasoned sensibly. He picked up a few stray pieces of dirty clothes across the floor and tried to fold them, ultimately failing miserably and throwing them back onto a pile in the corner of the room. “You have to do something, mate, I’m not letting you spend prom being mopey.”

Sirius turned to him with wide eyes and a defensive shout, “I’m not mopey.”

“You absolutely are.”

Sirius gave what could only be described as a pout, before leaving the room to meet Mr and Mrs Potter in the kitchen pacing excitedly with cameras and phones. Mrs Potter wore a simple grey, cable-knitted jumper with a pair of old jeans and her brown hair was pulled back away from her face whilst her husband adorned a sweater vest and maroon trousers: looking at them Sirius could only describe them as the perfect family he’d always wanted and now, 17 years into his life, finally had.

Mrs Potter smiled brightly as he stalked into the room, “Sirius, honey, you look wonderful! Stay still for a second, let me get a picture.”

“Don’t bother rushing Prongs,” He called out, flashing a blinding smile that he was so famous for. “She’s taking pictures.”

“Bloody hell mum!” James shot back.

She simply waved him off, snapping a few more before gesturing Mr Potter to come over and do the same. They seemed satisfied after about 50 pictures in various poses and lightings, but then became excited again as James came down and joined him. The two were overcame with joy as there was a soft knock at the door. But where they had joy, Sirius had a certain sense of dread as his beautiful boyfriend, one that he hadn’t spoken to since an argument he still didn’t fully understand, crossed over the threshold like an angel over the gates of heaven dressed in a fitted black suit.

Holy Shit. He’s gorgeous.

Remus gave a small and awkward wave, pausing as he looked at Sirius with a similar sense of amazement, “Hi, hi.”

Before either could express their feeling however, Mrs Potter gave an excited squeal and rushed to fix Sirius’s tie – even though last he’d checked it was absolutely fine – and position the two of them together. “More pictures!”

With an overwhelming urge to do so, Sirius leaned in close to murmur under his breath to his boyfriend, “Re, about the Snape thing…”

“Let’s not talk about it.” Remus insisted, eyes burning straight ahead. Every protest was met with a set jaw and an averted gaze, to Sirius’s frustration. Usually he was the one to encourage fun over talking and emotions and the like, so the sudden switch was not one he welcomed with open arms.

“Mum, we really need to get going,” James reminded her from where his dad was helping him try to tame his hair.

“I just want memories of my boys before they grow up and leave, and that’s not exactly far off now is it?” She gave an unconvincing pout, though it looked more like a motherly smile. Remus noticed the way Sirius lit up at ‘boys’ similarly to how he had at Gregg’s, a true smile etching onto his face and his eyes flashing brown and bright. His heart pulled at the sight.

Sirius bounded forward to give her a loose hug and a kiss on the cheek, and with a final loving gesture, grabbed James by the arm and Remus by the hand and headed out. The walk to school wasn’t too far, but they had to take quite a few detours to the houses of their various friends. Dorcas and Marlene were both already waiting on the drive, leaning heavily onto one another where they stood. Peter lived just across the street from Marlene, with Mary a few houses down again.

James couldn’t keep the schoolboy smirk off his face as they approached Lily’s driveway, which quickly disappeared as the din of argument became louder. There she was, flaming red hair tucked into a low bun and a light blue dress that cascaded down to her ankles. In front of her stood a girl who looked about the same age with scraggy brown hair and a much shorter, baby pink dress, shouting and screaming at Lily: Petunia. Her face contorted and cheeks red with the effort, her words were shrieked and almost unintelligible.

“Fucking greedy prick! Couldn’t have just left me alone for a night?” Petunia shouted, opening her purse and gripping something that could be thrown if her anger worsened.

Lily groaned, matching her sister’s volume, “I never wanted to ruin your night, not everything is about you.”

“Oh look, you’re boyfriend’s here.” Petunia sneered.

Lily turned around to face the boy in question as fast as humanly possible, her dress flowing in the wind as her face softened slightly. It could have been the sight of James, grinning stupidly with his stupid hair and stupid tux, or the sight of her best friend also grinning stupidly as he gripped his boyfriend’s hand tightly.

Lily turned back to her sister with a fake, toothy grin, “I guess I’ll leave you to it, bitch.”

Before they could get caught up in Petunia’s piercing protests, Lily grabbed the three boys by the hands and pulled them away in the direction of the school building, not daring to look back. James opening his mouth to ask about it, but she only pressed a hand over his mouth – much to his delight. He would do anything she asked of him.

“Someone’s salty,” Sirius remarked, earning a warning glare from Remus.

The corner of Lily’s mouth turned up, “She’s always like that, I should probably be used to it by now.”

Marlene and Dorcas started talking excitedly to the pair as Mary and Peter became lost in their own conversation, leaving Sirius and Remus alone with their silence. Sirius too lost himself in it for a few moments, swinging back and forth between ideas of what to say and what to do. After a long and slightly awkward pause, he brought their joined hands up and pressed a kiss to the back of his boyfriend’s palm, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m an idiot,” Sirius started earnestly. He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting, shallow denial would have felt false but bluntness would be equally as strange.

Remus met his eyes, “I’m aware.” Maybe bluntness is worse.

“…And I know that Snape isn’t the only thing that’s worrying you.” Remus tore his eyes away at the mention of it, leaving Sirius to continue, “Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

The words were softer and more gentle than everything the daredevil had ever said. Remus felt his own words spilling out as if he couldn’t help them, a waterfall of insecurity, “I just… I can’t stand when everyone feels like they have to stand up for me, or that they have to defend me or something. I know that everyone only means the best but it makes me feel fucking weak and I-” He groaned in frustration.

“‘m sorry Re, I had no idea.” They were stood frozen, right in the middle of the street, eyes locked together. Leaning forward to cup Remus’ face between his hands, Sirius pressed a burst of kisses to his cheeks and jaw, making both of their hearts pull. Before he could envelope his boyfriend in a tight hug however, a whistle could be heard from just ahead of them.

“C’mon lovebirds, we don’t have all day!”

“Fuck off James.” They responded in unison.

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 4 years

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What are your thoughts about how Dean's being treated in the narrative this season? I was excited starting out but so far, I've just been disappointed by how he just seems superfluous to the plot. And I don't understand why the writers seem to be taking shots at him in almost every episode. The Achilles' heel thing, putting responsibility for the rift on his shoulders (while Cas' part is handwaved away), Garth's snub in naming his children, his undisputed claim that Sam is better than him (1)

at everything, Fortuna’s insult…it’s just a lot. Maybe it wouldn’t be so jarring if Dean wasn’t the only character being consistently treated like that. To be fair, it hasn’t been all bad. I’ve liked some of his character development (although I find his new tendency to not voice his dissenting opinion a little worrisome, given his natural intuition) and there have been some awesome scenes like standing up to Chuck. But I just don’t know…(2)

Thank you for this ask! I think it’s an interesting thing to explore. I have been feeling a little iffy about some things this season, too, so I want to use this opportunity to sort through my own thoughts. It’s gonna get long so I’ll put a read more…

Let’s start from the easy part. 15x11: I don’t think that Fortuna was genuine when she made that comment about Dean, and we’re not supposed to take the beach read comment as a reliable perspective. All she does is a sort of test to read them; she lets both Dean and Sam win a match against her at first, as a sort of test but also as a trick to make her opponent confident and make him play again. Except that Dean’s second match is against a very talented player, and he wins not because he’s lucky, but because he’s genuinely skilled. He proves that his skills at pool - a shorthand for his skills in general, which they had been doubting of, wondering whether it was all Chuck - are real.

Could skills beat luck? Probably not when luck is the goddess of luck herself, but I wonder whether Fortuna picked Sam as her opponent when stakes got high instead of Dean because she wanted to play against the less skilled of the two. I think that she’s playing them on and also off the pool table, and Dean realizes this when she goes “this one could be interesting”, you can tell from his reaction that he’s like “hey that’s a trick to play with the less skilled one of us” but Sam takes the bait. She also pretends to fall for Sam’s trick of distracting her by making her talk, just to reveal she can win whenever she wants to when the stakes are final. From what we’ve seen of her, I think we can infer that her modus operandi is to make people confident, so they’ll play again, higher the stakes, and then lose, not necessarily against her, just against someone, and lose their luck - she plays first with Dean when she doesn’t know who he is, and I assume it’s a common trick - let the newcomer win to stroke his confidence. (In gambling, the idea is to give players smalls wins to make them gamble more, and lose more.)

So, the narrative doesn’t give us any reason to believe that Dean isn’t right when he says that he is better than Sam at pool, and the point of the “beach read” comment is that he is not a beach read. Fortuna is supposed to be an unreliable narrator at that point, because she’s testing them. In fact, at the end, she rewards them on the ground of being “heroes”, which invalidates her previous statement, be it genuine or not.

Also consider that “sexy but skimmable” i.e. a pretty idiot, is the sort of taunt that Dean has received often in his life. If Fortuna is truly skilled at reading people, then she picks exactly something that has a history for Dean, and also something that has a history for Sam, i.e. that he’s more “interesting” (smart, skilled, whatever) than his brother. Coincidence?

That he’s pretty but otherwise worthless is something Dean has internalized by being told, not necessarily in words, over and over in his life. That reminded me of John’s old hunter friend who was like “didn’t you grow up pretty” and “if your father could see you now”. It took Dean a long time (and with plenty of fallbacks) to realize he’s more than a pretty face who follows orders. On the other hand, that he’s a more interesting “read” to Dean’s “beach read” is something Sam’s always had in his mind (he was the one who questioned the orders while Dean acted as John’s faithful little dog…) and it took him a long time, and some big blows to his own ego, to get out of that mindset.

So I don’t think it’s random that Fortuna goes for, you know, down with Dean and up with Sam, so to speak.

Dean’s statement that Sam is better than him at everything except pool - I read that as a very parental thing. It’s a very parent thing: telling your child that they’re proud of them for surpassing you. It should be the goal of a parent, you know, that your child is a better person than you - and a parent being like, you’ve become more skilled than me at my skills (except this one non-fundamental thing I can still kick your ass at :p) and I am proud of you, is a common trope.

So I read that as a small but very strong Dean-as-Sam’s-parent moment. Recently Sam also mentioned out loud that Dean raised him, so the writing team has not dropped this very important piece of characterization.

15x10. I think that the point is that Garth is Dean’s friend first and foremost. He doesn’t name his kids after his friends plural, he names his kids after the most important people for his friend singular. That’s how I read it at least. It’s weird because Dean hears one twin is named after Sam and assumes the two siblings are named after the two siblings, and the dissonance between his expectation and reality is what makes the humor. Also… Garth and Dean are a “who knows maybe in another life” kind of duo, you know…? They have a chemistry. Garth is Dean’s type, once you go past the appearances, and judging from Garth’s choice in wife, Dean’s pretty much his type too. You don’t name a child after that kind of person in your life.

Also, from a extra-diegetic perspective, Dean’s mirror is Gertie (from the name Gertrude meaning “strong spear/spear of strength”), the girl, because he’s always aligned with the feminine.

15x09. Now, this is the episode I’ve struggled the most with. Not sure if the problem is the episode itself, or the fact that the episode came after a season of the fandom acting a certain way towards Dean and Cas and their conflict, and that colored the episode a certain tint for me.

I’m kind of suspending judgement as I wait to see how the rest of the season goes and how Dean and Cas’ relationship develops, but my fear is that the narrative never really allows Dean to have emotions, so to speak, nor addresses Cas’ side of the issue(s). 15x09 itself is telling of a certain problem - Dean is experiencing certain emotions and going through a certain thing with Cas, but bam something happens that makes him terrified that he’s lost Cas again, and that forces him to scrap what he was going through. I’m not sure I’m explaining myself well here but bear with me.

He doesn’t get to sort through his emotions, he just goes in emergency mode again and the emergency just gives a yank to his emotions. I suppose the intent was “situation makes Dean realize he doesn’t want to lose Cas/he was wrong at making Cas the emotional scapegoat of his anger” but I don’t think it really worked. Dean was grieving and experiencing one of the most severe traumatic things in his life (actually, multiple at the same time). There’s no “right” or “wrong” in his emotions. I’m not saying that grief/trauma gives you a free card to be mean to others but… I mean, it does?? I think we’ve sort of created a culture of yelling “that’s abusive!!” at what are normal human experiences and expect that a person should act “properly” at all times. There’s a refrain of “x experience explains the behavior of y but doesn’t justify it!” which, sure, is valid with certain kinds of behavior, but there’s a whole jumble of normal human experiences in between “good” behavior and unjustifiable behavior.

Maybe I’m just culturally Catholic to the core, but all this pressure on Dean to beg for forgiveness for being harsh to Cas feels… iffy to me.

I guess I see forgiveness a bit differently, too, because I don’t think forgiveness - and especially when and how quickly you get there - is a choice. If Dean wasn’t emotionally ready to forgive Cas and open up emotionally to him again, then making him feel guilty for not being quick enough to get there is not exactly my idea of a healthy process.

Then there’s the “you didn’t stop me”, which, I get the whole thing behind it - Cas’ deepest fear is that Dean doesn’t care if he leaves, Dean’s deepest fear is that Cas is better off if he leaves, so, draaaama~~. But Dean has a history of people leaving him and feeling he can’t (isn’t worth) ask them to stay instead. Sure, it’s good drama. But I’m not sure that the narrative is allowing the space for understanding that Dean needs the emotional security of feeling like he’s worth to ask to stay just like Cas needs the emotional security of feeling like he has a place where he belongs and isn’t just a guest.

Again, I think it would be unfair to draw judgement of a narrative that is ongoing, and I hope that my fears are unfounded and the narrative will address what I wish it addresses! Of course with a little less than half a season still to go, emotional conflicts and character development can’t be wrapped up yet.

Another point you bring up is Dean’s reluctance to express his dissenting opinion. I do not think we have a pattern yet - his acceptance of Sam’s decision not to trap Chuck was intended, I guess, as a moment of growth in the sense that he acknowledged that Sam is a grown adult capable of drawing his judgement and make informed decisions, so he trusts Sam’s judgement and doesn’t drill him with questions. We still have to see how they all react to Jack’s revelation about Billie’s plan, so I would say to wait and see about that. Dean’s face at the end is not a “well this is excellent news” face, nor is Sam’s (who is framed after Jack talks about getting stronger, which is something Sam has a history with). Considering this season brought Lilith back, I’m sure they haven’t forgotten about Sam’s demon blood arc... I do wonder if Dean will avoid getting too confrontational with Cas, though. We’ll see.

Now, you say that he seems “superfluous to the plot”. I would normally say, well of course he’s superfluous to the plot, he’s the protagonist, he’s the one that reacts to the plot that happens around him. But I understand this is not the kind of answer you’re looking for. Honestly, I might be wrong, but I think that the first roughly-half of the season is the Male Part. The second part of the season should be the Female Part. In the first part, Chuck is rampant, Billie’s plan is dormant, Amara is minding her business and not being relevant to the plot, the plot is Sam-heavy, Rowena dies and reverts to playing a game of power, Mary is dead, Eileen is a piece played by Chuck. Now, with Billie’s plan being put in motion (although I don’t believe that’s the endgame or a Good Thing™ in unquestioning terms, but it’s still Death entering the game), I think a new phase should start. Dean confronting Chuck was already a start, and also how they got some support from a female deity that expressed negative opinions about Chuck -- I think that we’ve entered the second part of the season, and things are going to change. I’m looking forward to see what will be Amara’s role in all of this... especially considering that’s inextricably related to Dean’s role.

Feel free to ask for any clarification or addition or argument!!

#anon #my spn thoughts #spn meta #spn 15x09 #spn 15x10 #spn 15x11 #dean #dean and sam #dean and cas #dean and garth #spn

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Your safety is my concern; 13th doctor x child reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well I have in store for you another Doctor Who fic request that came to me over 50000 years ago, so ti took me a bit but I managed to get a straight story plot in so to the anon who requested this fic, I hope you like it and thank you for being SOOO patient :) Not really any serious warning except for the alien threats, mild swearing and a bit of action so your typical PG-13 rating. Enjoy my lovelies :) Also there’s a fun face cast (until tumblr decides to stop being a little B***ch the face cast is Tom Ellis for our villain).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@psychosupernatural

@waddles03

@platawnic

@ixchel-9275

_____________________________________________________

“Wait, wait so those things actually exist?” Ryan exclaimed.

“Yep.” I replied.

“You’re actually serious?” said Yaz.

“Yeah. They live in a place call the Black forest. That’s where the Brothers Grimm wrote their histories.”

“You mean their fairytales?” Yaz tried to correct me but I just looked at her with a quirked brow and a grin. “No way……”

“Can we go?” asked Ryan.

“I would but—that’s the one rule my mom doesn’t allow. She doesn’t even allow me to go on my own. But I’m in my 11th stage at this point, she went there long before I was even thought of. So you know what—screw what she says. Let’s go!”

“Alright!” Ryan cheered as the two of us fist bumped.

“Uhh Ryan can I speak to you for a bit?” Yaz urged him.

“Oh Yaz don’t be such a spoilsport.” I argued. “I know what you’re gonna try to convince him that we all shouldn’t do this cause it’s my mum’s only rule. Well news flash. You guys have been in worse case scenarios before, so let’s just drop it and go there and you guys can see what inspired the Grimm’s history books.”

“Yeah Yaz. C’mon. This is a one in a lifetime opportunity.” Yaz was in a debate with herself before she finally said.

“Oh alright. But only because I loved reading their books growing up.” I cheered out a yes as I fist pumped into the air. “Just tell me we don’t have to use the TARDIS to get there.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. You can get there practically in any universe or timeline. Just gotta know where to look.” I said.

“Okay so where do we find the entrance here in London?” Ryan asked.

“Well if you were an English writer or wanted to read a book in peace, where would you go to write?”

“The Park.”

“But which one? There’s over a hundred parks here in London.” Yaz said.

“Well the land where the Brothers Grimm came out of in order to begin writing “Little red riding hood” was turned into what is Hyde Park. So just a cab ride there and I can show you guys they exited. Some entrances can lead you out into another part of the world so we’ll have to make sure we exit out of that exact spot once we get there. Otherwise we’ll end up in Germany or Italy.”

“But how will we get pass the Doctor and Graham?” asked Yaz.

“Leave that to me. Now c’mon let’s get going.” We then left my room and we made it to the heart of the TARDIS.

“So there you three are, finally getting bored of reading eh?” Graham’s voice rung out.

“Oh not my girl Graham. My little (y/n) could just bury herself into books, call her my little Belle sometimes.” My mum said.

“Yeah, hey mum since we’ve had such a long few weeks of battling Daleks, evil hitmen and mind controlling robots, you think we could take a holiday?”

“I wouldn’t mind that. Yeah so where shall we go? The Bermuda Triangle?”

“Nah not after what happened last time.”

“Yeah you’re right very nasty business. What about the Capri islands?”

“Charming little places but no. I was kinda thinking in the lines of local holidays.”

“Oh okay then well umm……uhh fam what is there to do around here that’s peaceful and tranquil?” my mum asked the gang.

“Well there’s always the park.” Ryan suggested going along with my plan.

“The park! Of course good suggestion Ryan.”

“Which park shall it be?” asked Graham.

“Earlier (y/n) suggested Hyde Park.”

“Of course she would. Never did choose any other park after that, not after seeing Queen perform there back in ’76.”

“Hey that was a great concert and don’t pretend you didn’t love it in your previous regeneration!” I snapped at her.

“Oh of course I did. I may have been a sour angry Scotsman previously but I knew good music.”

“That you did mum.”

“Alright Hyde Park it is!” mum proclaimed and as we all began to head out Graham took me by the arm and he said.

“Wait so—she was serious? She used to be a man?”

“Oh yeah. Various generations of them too. I kinda preferred her 10th and 11th form though. He was much cooler and funnier in those forms. His last form it was like having a grandfather instead of a father. But oh boy was I surprised to see this, but she does get me better now as a woman.” Graham looked overwhelmed so I patted his back and gestured for him to follow us.

We left the TARDIS and decided that a simple cruise through cabbie to Hyde Park was the best thing. It took us about 15 minutes to get there but we finally arrived at Hyde Park. Graham paid our fee and we all exited the cabbie and stood before the park.

“Alright gang, what shall we do first? Do a little exploring? Skip some rocks? I’ve always wanted to try and skip rocks, I never could do that when I was a man. Maybe with these new wrists I could do it.” My mum said.

“You know Graham’s actually a master at rock skipping, aren’t yah granddad?” Ryan asked.

“Yep. I mean I don’t like to brag but once I managed to get seven skips right by the docks during the WWII. My old brothers in combat never let me hear the end of it, but it was worth it if it got their egos knocked down a bit.”

“Then it’s settled. Graham you can teach my mum how to skip rocks, while Yaz, Ryan and I go on a little hike. That okay with you mum?”

“Alright but you stay close to Yaz and Ryan alright?” she warned me.

“I promise mum I won’t leave their side. Cross my heart.” I said as I crossed both my hearts and raised my right hand. She looked at me but cupped my face in between her hands, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones before placing her forehead on mine.

“You better not. Yaz, Ryan I’m entrusting you to protect my daughter. Make sure she stays out of trouble.”

“Don’t worry Doctor, we will.” Yaz assured her. My mum hugged and kissed me one last time before Yaz, Ryan and I headed on out towards the hiking trail Hyde Park had to offer.

“See, told you it’d be easy.”

“You were right (y/n).” Ryan said with a grin.

“Alright let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Now where do we find this entrance at?” Yaz asked.

“Well if I remember correctly, cause as usual you humans always make changes to the forests in order to build your parks, I think it’s…..this way.” I went to the right part of the park that led to the forest.

As we tracked along, I looked carefully at every bush and behind every tree trying to remember where the entrance to the Black Forest was. It was then when I came across the blackberry bush, something clicked.

“Hey guys, we’re getting close.”

“How can you tell?” asked Ryan.

“See that blackberry bush? The Brothers Grimm once spoked about a blackberry bush being the first thing they found after they back from the Black Forest.” I raced on ahead with Yaz and Ryan calling out my name. It was then I found what looked like a small cave entrance. “This is it guys. We found it.”

“This is the entrance?” Ryan said.

“Yep. This is our entrance into the Black Forest.”

“So…..what do we just crawl through it.” Yaz asked me confused.

“Go in and see for yourself.” I said with a slight smirk. Ryan and Yaz looked at each other and Ryan shrugged at her. Yaz sighed and walked up to the entrance.

“I can’t really see any….any light at the end of the tunnel. (Y/n) are you sure this the entrAHHH!!!”

“Yaz!” Ryan exclaimed as he went after her but he too ended up falling down the hole. I grinned and crawled into the den before whispering to myself.

“Off we go.” I then slide down on my back and proclaimed happily like I was going down the slide.

I ended up lying on top of Ryan’s back and I heard him groan underneath me.

“Hello Ryan.” I said.

“Hey (y/n), do you think you could get off of me? I think you broke a rib.”

“No I didn’t you’re just being dramatic.”

“She’s right Ryan, if you had you’d be in a lot worse pain.” Yaz confirmed with me. We all stood up and she said, “So, this is the Black Forest?”

“Yep. We can look around if you like, there’s plenty to see here. But be careful, every single character the Brothers Grimm wrote, they are all real. And some of them are made even lighter by their standards so tread carefully.” I walked on ahead leading the way with Yaz and Ryan following cautiously behind me. As we walked on Ryan asked me.

“So who should we meet first?”

“Actually Ryan it’s best we don’t go looking for them, in fact I didn’t want to scare you guys but they might have a feeling that humans have entered their world.”

“Wait so even the human characters aren’t really human?”

“Not exactly. They’re…..” it was then an arrow came right in front of my face, barely missing my nose by a centimeter.

“(Y/n)!” They both cried out. They pulled me in between them and they both asked if I was okay as Yaz began to look me over.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” But it was then dozens upon dozens of archers came out with their arrows drawn out ready to fire at us. We all held our hands in the air trying not to appear threatening.

“State your name and business trespassers!” the bear-like huntsman demanded as he drew his arrow further back.

“We are not a threat Huntsman.” Ryan tried to reason with him.

“Silence weakling! I speak to the girl!”

“No need to get your knickers in a twist Huntsmen dear.” An echo sounded off as we heard a flock of ravens flying ahead. It was then every single one of the huntsmen all tucked down in fear trying to swat away the ravens buzzing around them. The ravens gathered behind a tree and as soon as the last one went behind the tree, a man stepped forward.

His skin while looking like the skin of a toad, glistened like morning dew on the grass, or the sparkling of the stars in the universe. Across his face was an impish smirk and his eyes were demon red and he had hair black as ebony. It was then I knew exactly just who this guy was.

The King of the Black Forest, the Fae King, Rumpelstiltskin.

“Rumpelstiltskin.” The Huntsman said fearfully. He then bowed as did the rest.

“Oh my god.” Yaz whispered in awe.

“Shh!” I hissed lowly.

“Now then, who has the audacity in entering my kingdom without a request from me?” the Dark Fae king stood before us and looked at each of us one by one. “Ahh a couple of humans, been a long time since humans came. Now what were those two lovely yet odd gentlemen’s names again?” he hummed as he tapped his foot, pondering in thought till he snapped his fingers, “The Grimm Brothers. Lovely chaps they were.”

“This guy can’t be the Rumpelstiltskin.” Ryan muttered to Yaz.

“And just why can’t I?” Rumpelstiltskin snapped as his eyes flashed angrily.

“Oh well I—I-I-I didn’t mean any disrespect I was just…..”

“He only meant that….you looked so different, than what we’ve read about you.” Yaz tried to explain.

“Oh really?” he pondered. “And just how exactly am I portrayed?” Yaz didn’t respond back right away, all she did was just stare in awe at the Fae King.

And I’ll admit in my previous stages, especially my teenage forms, I probably would’ve fawned over Rumpelstiltskin too. Cause even with the toad-like skin color, he was still a very attractive fae (then again what Fae isn’t?).

“Well judging by your gaping mouth I’d say not quite like this.” Rumpelstiltskin said as he gestured to himself.

“Begging your pardon, your majesty. What exactly shall we do with them?” a huntswoman asked. Rumpelstiltskin looked at Yaz and Ryan and said.

“Take these two away.” It was then four huntsmen came down and two of them took Yaz while the other two took Ryan by their arms and held them back.

“Hey let us go!”

“Get your grubby hands off of me!”

“Yaz! Ryan!” I exclaimed. Suddenly I felt this magical grip on me. I couldn’t break free of it. I was then hung upside down and forced to look in the direction of the King Fae. Knowing just how he had the power to affect children, I closed my eyes and tried to turn my head away.

“Ohh, a smart child aren’t you? You seem to know exactly what I can do. But you don’t have the same mortal aura as those two simpletons.” He cooed. “Why don’t you have a look into my eyes dear one? Let me see those adorable, innocent eyes?”

“No! I know exactly who you are! You’re a Djinn Fae! A creature from the Planet Drecarys that can bend reality and target solely children in order to obtain your long lives!” I heard him chuckle icily that sent shivers up my spine.

“A clever child you are, but then again you’re not any ordinary child, are you?” I felt his hand cup my cheek. I tried to fight it but I felt myself being squeezed by the magical force and that’s when he said. “So that’s it. Now this is a surprise indeed. I think you a mere child but LOW! You are the daughter of a Time Lord.”

“Wait does he mean you know who?” I heard one of the huntsmen say. That was until I heard the sounds of him choking and even gurgling? I don’t know what but I honestly didn’t want to find out, not if I risk falling under the spell of the Djinn Fae that is Rumpelstiltskin.

“The Doctor does not rule me!” Then I heard the snapping of bones and the collapse of a body. “Take the humans away, I have special plans for our guest of honor.” It was then I could hear Yaz and Ryan crying out my name and I called back to them till my voice was silenced as a gently shush was the only thing I could hear. “They don’t matter anymore my dear little Timelord, all you should be concerned about is us.” Then as I felt both sides of my face being cupped, I then began to smell something sweet.

It was like—honeysuckles no, no, no uhh….lavender. No oh stardust no he’s using the aroma Djinn Fae’s are known to use to put their prey under their spell. Wait hey….why are my eyes closed? Shouldn’t they be open? I then opened my eyes and that’s when I was looking into warm brown eyes.

“There’s my girl. Now come, we’ve got a lot to discuss.” I then felt myself being carried like a baby in his arms and I guess he looked safe so I clung onto him and he smiled down at me before I closed my eyes and fell asleep in his warm, protective embrace.

*3rd Person POV*

He finally had it. Out of all the children he’s sucked the life out of, Rumpelstiltskin finally had the key to eternal youth. With the regenerative abilities the timelords have been blessed with, even he could surpass any other Djinn Fae that came before him. Even if he were near death, all he had to do was regenerate and he’d continue to live his life.

Rumpelstiltskin grinned down wickedly at the young timelord he finally had in his grasp before fading off into a beam of light and disappearing from the forest.

Meanwhile with Yaz and Ryan, they were being escorted by the hunts-people feeling beyond worried about what Rumpelstiltskin wanted with (y/n).

“What is he gonna do to her?” demanded Ryan.

“Quiet nave!” said the leader of the huntsmen scouts.

“No you don’t understand that is our friend he just took hostage! She’s important to us! Important to someone else!” Ryan snapped. At that point the leader stopped which caused the rest of the guard to stop. He turned around and said as he held up his ten inch hunting blade right before Ryan’s nose.

“One more word out of you, and I’ll feed you to the wolves!” he threatened.

“Please. That little girl is really important to us. Don’t you have children? Did any of you have children?” Yaz said as she looked to all the hunts-people. They were all silent until one woman stepped up and said.

“I did, once. But then Rumpelstiltskin came along and took her away from me.”

“I’m so sorry, how—how old was she?”

“Younger than your friend. He caught her when she wondered too far from home.” The huntswoman answered solemnly.

“My two boys, Isaac and Ferdinand. That—damned imp stole them from me. And it was me Ferdinand’s first hunting lesson. I should never have let his brother go on his own.” Answered another huntsmen.

“My husband and I once had a pair of twins. Two baby girls. They were the lights of our lives. Until that—devilish son of a bitch came and stole them in the night. My husband’s never been the same after that.” Another huntswoman replied. Yaz and Ryan felt heartbroken hearing these stories, but they were surprised when they heard the leader say.

“Even though I had asked for sons, seeing those tiny little things wrapped in their blankets, I—wanted to protect them. I should’ve protected them.”

“If you all want to avenger your fallen children, then help us rescue our friend back.”

“It’s impossible to fight the likes of Rumpelstiltskin. We’ve all tried, and many of us had lost comrades in battle trying to kill him. I won’t risk anymore of my people.” The leader answered.

“There has to be a way to kill him.” Ryan said.

“There’s not. No one can kill the imp that is Rumpelstiltskin. Even the knights from kingdoms have tried. Other sorcerers, and he just turns them either to dust or a part of his werewolf and dragon army.”

“Well if you won’t help us, do any of you know where he would take her?” asked Yaz.

“His castle is five leagues from here.” The leader said pointing West. He then let out a whistle as he called out “Gregory! Gretel!” it was then two horses came in. One was a brown stallion and the other was a khaki color mare. “These horses once belonged to two great warriors. Before they too died at the hands of that imp. We named them after their riders. May they lead you both into battle, just like they did their former masters.”

“Thank you……”

“Hansel.” The leader introduced himself.

“Hansel? Does that mean…..” they both questioned.

“Yes, my sister—after she lost her son she tried to avenge him alongside with her husband. May my sister bless you and guide you in a way that she could not in life.”

“We won’t let you down Hansel, thank you.” Ryan and Yaz mounted the horses but before they took off riding a huntsman called out,

“Hold on brave heroes,” He walked up to Yaz and Ryan and handed them each two things. A piece of mushroom and a vile of liquid.

“Wait is this…..”

“Since you come from the world where we are stories yes. Eat the mushroom and you will grow, drink the vile and you shall shrink to the size of a field mouse. Be cautious. His goblin spies and werewolf watch dogs patrol all of the castle.” They nodded before finally urging their horses and took off riding Westward.

“Good luck, and my God have mercy on your souls.”

Far into the West where a decayed old castle stood up along a mountain, Rumpelstiltskin had tied to a sacrificial table (y/n) bound and ready for the ceremony that would begin at the moon’s highest point. As he prepped his potion and sharpened his dagger, he turned towards the young timelord child and said.

“With your powers no one will ever stop me. Not even death.” He poured a vile containing red liquid into a cauldron and the green potion turned red before he stirred it up.

“Uhh…..mum? Mum are you there?” (y/n) softly groaned starting to feel slightly more conscious. Rumpelstiltskin turned wide-eyed but remembering in her memories of how the Doctor was now a woman, he walked up to her and disguising his voice, he spoke as the Doctor.

“I’m here sweetheart. Just go back to sleep for now, mummy’s cooking up a special something for her favorite little Time lady.” He then kissed her temple and using his sleep magic, he once again had (y/n) under a sleeping curse. “All to easy.” His voice spoke normally once again.

Meanwhile inside the lower part of the palace as a goblin guard was walked through the hallways and corridors doing it’s patrol. It stopped and sniffed the air before looking towards a small crack in the wall. He walked right up to it and looked inside it before sniffing it again. After a few sniffs it turned away and proceeded with its patrolling.

It was then peeking out of the wall were mouse sized Yaz and Ryan. Ryan looked around to make sure it was all clear before he said.

“He’s gone.” He said to Yaz as the two of them came out of the hole and walked along the stone railings.

“Okay, now how do we find (y/n)?” Yaz asked.

“We just—gotta think like an evil mastermind in any other fairytale, where would you keep a young female at?”

“The highest tower point.” She replied.

“Bingo.”

“But do you think we can get there in time? If this is anything like the fairytales then by midnight Rumpelstiltskin is gonna suck her life out. And either time moves faster here or my watch is broken but it’s 5 minutes till midnight.”

“Okay, okay let me think uhh—do you think we should drink the vile?”

“Do you think we can sneak past every guard, get up the tower and get to (y/n) normal sized?”

“We gotta try, otherwise the Doctor’s gonna really be pissed at us for having her daughter killed by some psychopathic fairy.”

“Alright Ryan, but you better be right about this.” They then took the pieces of the mushroom and took a small bite of it before the two of them grew to their normal sizes. They then took off and hid behind a stairway just as two more goblin guards came their way. The two of them holding their breaths so that the goblin wouldn’t be able to smell them, then once it took off, they quickly and quietly raced on ahead.

As they came to a throne room, they noticed something behind the throne. Yaz walked up towards the black and skeletal throne and moved it aside before pressing against the wall behind it to reveal a secret passage.

“Secret door, nice.” Ryan commented with a grin.

“This might lead us to the highest point of the castle. Now c’mon we’ve got four minutes left.” Both Yaz and Ryan quickly raced on ahead as fast as they could up the stairs. When they finally reached the top, they were now standing before some ritual room but it was the young girl sleeping on the floor on top of an engraved symbol.

“(Y/n)!” they both cried out. They both knelt down beside her and Ryan grew worried.

“Is—is she…..”

“No, no she’s still alive.” Yaz said as she took her pulse.

“Then what’s wrong with her?”

“Sleeping curse. Like snow white and sleeping beauty.”

“Great, so only a true love’s kiss can wake her up. But the Doctor’s not here.”

“Maybe not, if we can get her out of here, maybe that could cause the curse to fade away.”

“It’s worth a shot, let’s go.” Yaz picked (y/n) up and the two of them took off running back down the stairs. But as they came down, a raven flew in front of them and began flying out cawing out an alarm.

“Oh shit!”

“Run!” Yaz and Ryan proceeded to run out of the palace as quick as they could with a goblin army chasing after them.

Flaming or non-flaming arrows were shot at them as they tried to dodge each one of them.

“Quick the forest!” but just before they could enter the forest, a firewall blocked them from the entrance and there a spiritual form of Rumpelstiltskin appeared.

“Taking my meal ticket away? I wouldn’t dream of it. You should’ve left when you had the chance, but now you will be delicious treats for my darling puppies.” He let out a wicked laugh as soon jumping from the fire were about seven werewolves, snapping with teeth and claws ready to devour Yaz and Ryan.

The two of them took off running as fast as they could as one werewolf was literally breathing down their necks. Ryan reached the edge of a cliff, but before he could even react Yaz bumped into him just as the werewolf pounced right where they were just standing. Sliding down the bumpy slide-like path that send them down the cliff before sending them flying through the air and landing in the forest.

“C’mon this way!” Yaz said as she adjusted (y/n) in her grip and took off running. From on top of the cliff, Rumpelstiltskin proclaimed.

“Don’t let them escape this world!” the wolves and goblins soon all poured down out from the palace and into the woods. He also transformed into a large spiritual raven and took off gliding in the skies to track down the thieves who were the key to his eternal life.

As Yaz and Ryan kept racing through the forest, all they could hear were the sounds of goblin snarls and werewolf howls echoing through the forest. Their adrenaline pulsing and their fear rising. They didn’t know whether they were surrounded or about to walk through a trap.

“C’mon we can lose them this way!” Yaz proclaimed as she ran to the left through a thick patch of bushes. But as they went deeper and deeper, the bushes soon turned into a hell trap of thorns and vines. Even though they were getting scarred up and bleeding from their hands or cheeks, they kept pressing forward.

Suddenly like a bomb setting off, Rumpelstiltskin landed right behind them in the form of a dragon. Yaz ran on ahead but as Ryan tried to keep up, he ended up getting tied up in the thorns. He tried to push on ahead but inch by inch he was being dragged back.

“Yaz! YAZ COME BACK!! I’M STUCK!” All the while Rumpelstiltskin kept opening and closing his dragon mouth trying to reach Ryan through the vines and thorns that he too was caught in.

“RYAN!!” Ryan looked up to see Yaz reaching out her hand for his. He reached out and took it and she began pulling as hard as she could to free her friend. Rumpelstiltskin roared and tried with all his might to grab a hold of Ryan, but then like a spring chord, Ryan was free and the vines shot out like a whip towards the King Fae’s eyes and the thorns went right into his left cornea which forced him to shoot up and roar in agony.

Yaz and Ryan continued to race on ahead, that’s when things began to look familiar to Ryan.

“We’re close to where we came from Yaz! Go right!” she nodded and the two ran ahead but just before they jumped down the small hill, something exploded from behind them and the three of them went flying. When the smoke and dust cleared, Yaz and Ryan coughed and groaned in pain.

“Ryan, you okay?”

“Maybe feeling a bruise tomorrow but other than that I’m just fine. Where’s (y/n)?” It was then Yaz noticed that she was no longer holding (y/n). She and Ryan gasped as now standing over (y/n)’s unconscious body was none other than Rumpelstiltskin.

“I’m gonna enjoy draining the last bit of life from this time lord’s very soul. Then you two,” at that point goblins held onto Yaz and Ryan as Rumpelstiltskin said in an almost ecstasy tone, “I’m gonna enjoy tearing you both a part. Nice. And slow.” He then picked up (y/n) by the collar and his eyes glowed pure red as he was ready to suck the lifeforce out of (y/n).

“NO!!!” Both Yaz and Ryan proclaimed. Suddenly echoing through the forest was a thunderous roar. A tiger’s roar to be exact. It was then shooting out from the bushes was a large tiger. It frightened off the goblins forcing them to tuck tail and run away, meanwhile the werewolves tried to fight back but with a single thunderous roar and show of it’s long canines, the werewolves backed away submissively.

The tiger then stood before Yaz and Ryan and hissed and mocked charged at any werewolf trying to get near them. A few more thunderous roars left the entire forest shaken and even Rumpelstiltskin stood there in shock. The tiger turned towards them and actually spoke.

“Don’t you even dare think of taking them away from me!”

“Oh my god.” Yaz muttered.

“Impossible.” Ryan said in shock.

“No, Doctor. Never. Never again.” He then carefully set (y/n)’s body back down like he was bringing a sacrifice to a God.

“This is your final warning Rumple. Stay. Away. From my family, or you’ll come face to face with something far worse than me being a tiger.” The Doctor lowly snarled as she stood over her daughter before turning back to face Ryan and Yaz. Both of them in shock at seeing the Doctor like this.

She then looked back down at her daughter and lowered her head and gently licked her cheek. Slowly her chest began to rise and fall as a small groan came from her mouth before finally her eyes were starting to open up.

*My POV*

Whoa, that was—that was a seriously long sleep. Where was I? I mean last thing I remember was…..oh god Rumpelstiltskin, Ryan and Yaz. I slowly opened my eyes but I got an even bigger shock when I saw my mum standing over me. Her eyes hard with sternness and anger. Uh-oh, busted.

“Now keep that promise, we’re finished here!” I was then picked up in my mum’s arms. I turned to look at the Fae king who looked at my mother with a suspicious look.

“I promise Doctor, this is all behind me.” He eyed down at me wickedly as his eyes briefly flashed, almost like he just wanted me to see it, before finally disappearing into a beam of green light and fading away.

“Doctor we—”

“Not. Now Yaz! We’re going home now!” she kept hold of me in her arms as we proceeded to head back in the direction we came in.

Next thing we knew, we were back at the park. Graham was standing by a tree and he said.

“There you three are, just what the hell were you two thinking!?” he snapped worriedly.

“Graham, I will handle this.” Said my mum. “Now we’ll discuss this in the TARDIS, so everyone let’s head back now and get out of here.” As my mum and Graham walked on ahead, Ryan, Yaz and I lagged behind and I said to them.

“Sorry I got you into this guys.”

“It’s okay (y/n).” said Yaz.

“We’ll try to have the Doctor go easy on you.” We took a cabbie back to where we had left the TARDIS at and let me just say the car ride back there was so tense, it was like waiting for a black hole to devour the entire universe.

When we got back to the TARDIS, mum activated it and we were once again traveling through time and space. She had Yaz, Ryan and I sitting on the steps as she paced back and forth as she said.

“I don’t know what any of you were thinking. You all could’ve been killed had I not stepped in!”

“Speaking of which how did you turn into a tiger?” questioned Ryan.

“Not the time Ryan. I’ll be dealing with your punishment later.” Graham lectured him.

“I just—I don’t know who to be madder, madder is that even a word? Anyways I don’t know who I should blame more! Yaz, Ryan I told you to watch over her and not let her out of your sight! And you young lady, you deliberately disobeyed me! You knew that the one world I’ve forbidden you to go to and yet you went ahead and did it. And what’s worse is that you put Ryan and Yaz in danger!”

“We’re sorry Doctor.” Yaz said solemnly.

“Just—the three of you please leave the console room, I need to have a word with my daughter alone.” My mum said in a disapproving tone.

“Don’t you worry Doc, I’ll give these two a proper talking to.” Graham said as he guided Ryan and Yaz out of the room and into one of the many rooms that TARDIS had. My mum came up to me and she knelt down in front of me and said.

“Seriously what were you thinking? Do you realize the damage you’ve done? You nearly surrendered your Timelord energy to one of the darkest and most dangerous Fae’s in all of time and space. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened had he succeeded in draining your life force?”

“I get it mum I screwed up okay? I’m sorry! I was just—I just wanted to show Ryan and Yaz that the Grimm Brother’s stories weren’t just stories.”

“There are other ways of showing a reality is real, especially one as dangerous as that. (Y/n) I—when you, Ryan and Yaz didn’t come back I grew so worried, then when I remembered that a Grimm world entrance could be found in this park I was terrified. If something ever happened to you I wouldn’t know what to do. You’re so important to me, and I can’t bear to lose you.”

“I know mum. The last of the timelords is us. You spared me the night I was born from the extermination of our planet when you ran away. I screwed up, I know. But don’t blame Yaz and Ryan, they were just curious. I was the one to goat them on and let them go with it. Hell Yaz was against it at first.”

“First of all language missy, you’re no longer a 24 year old anymore, you’re 11 and I don’t want any swear words coming out of your mouth while in this state.” I cheekily grinned at her. “Second, thank you for telling me who was really responsible for this. I’ll—try to be light on Ryan and Yaz.”

“Yeah, they had nothing to do with this. It was all me. So if anyone should be punished for it, punish me.”

“And you can bet I will, but for now come here.” She held her arms out and I went up and hugged her and she hugged me back. “I’m just so relieved that I found you when I did.”

“But—I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Rumpelstiltskin.” I muttered frightenedly.

“I know.” She said gravely. “He’s not one to give up so easily, but he’ll have to kill me first in order to get to you poppet. I promise.”

“Thank mum, I love you.”

“I love you too (y/n). I love you so much.” She kissed the top of my head and hugged me tighter.

After all that, mum apologized and let Ryan and Yaz off the hook since they really had nothing to do with going to Grimm world. And of course I was punished with no mission going for an entire month. I was forced to stay in current time London 2019 and forced to stay with Yaz’s family, yeah I know it may not seem like much of a punishment but to a timelord who can’t travel and save the world, it’s torture.

But I had sickening feeling that we would soon come in contact with Rumpelstiltskin again, I don’t know when and I didn’t know how but I’ve been getting visions of him. It’s almost like there’s this—psychic connection between us. I can see him and he can see me, and it frightens me to no end.

I only just hope we can find a way to stop him before my visions come to pass.

#13th doctor #13th doctor x reader #13th doctor imagine #13th doctor imagines #13th doctor x child reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who imagines #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who fanfic #Jodie Whittaker #doctor who fandom

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wickednerdery · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: Death Naughty Alphabet?

I’m so delighted that someone asked for this, for her, I can’t even, haha! For one, I’d have never thought anyone would be interested in knowing such things about a female OC, but since you are let’s do it!

NOTE: Tumblr marked this inappropriate and denied my appeal - apparently Tom kissing girls or laying on his back is too much to handle, lol - so this is merely a repost. Death is from Encounters with Death. Let’s hope Tumblr isn’t a dick...again lol!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex):

Assuming the lover’s survived the actual act, Death’s post-coital behavior depends widely on what’s needed. If she needs a place to stay or is trying to lower a target’s guard she will stay as long as necessary. She can and will pretend to be in love, she will read the other’s needs and play into them to the fullest. If given the option though, she’ll prefer to move along quickly. Death’s not into cuddling or conversation - what are we, friends now? - to the point it can actually make her outright uncomfortable if made to do it without a clear reason (such as for a mission).

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Death loves every part of herself; some would say she’s arrogant, full of herself, but she argues “self-esteem is a good thing to have…if I don’t love myself, who will?” On a partner of her own choosing she’s not overly picky, focusing on more general things such a build that suggests they can handle her in the sack. That said a nice face and great ass will also catch her attention.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

She’s an expert at faking it and tends not to actually orgasm; she’ll get aroused, very close, but rarely are partners able to push her over the edge. If she does orgasm and it’s very very intense, she’ll squirt though. Partners that accomplish that she’ll return to. No matter the gender Death doesn’t care if another comes inside of or on her body, but prefers not to let it hit her face or have to swallow during oral as she’s generally not fond of such tastes or consistencies. IF she allows for either it’s a good indication she’s enjoying the other in and out of the bedroom enough to willingly be flexible on her own wants.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

A successful job can get her as, if not more, excited than any sexual activity. For her there is a rush almost dangerously close to arousal in watching her targets die as a result of her handiwork. This can carry over into the bedroom even when her lovers are not targets…it’s not uncommon for her to choke a partner to the point of them nearly passing out or using a knife to cut them, enjoying the violence as much as any sex act.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Her sexual experiences began early in life so she’s got a lot and absolutely knows what she’s doing. She’s experienced a wide range of partners so is also skilled in adjusting her own habits, shown experiences, and even apparent preferences to suit whoever the lover of the moment is. Despite the high level of experience, rarely has it been pleasurable or even pleasure-seeking for her so much as a means to an end. Because most of her experiences haven’t been her choice and/or included violence it often shows in her own selection of lovers.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

If given the choice, Death will always fuck in a position where she feels she’s got the upper-hand. That, obviously, includes any variation in which she’s on top…though especially the cowgirl position where she can both be on top and in the most control of the experience. Also, from this position, she can watch the other person’s reactions to what she does be it killing or pleasuring them. This need to be in charge can also carry over with her straddling a partner on a chair or the like.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

While Death’s humor is not so much goofy as dark, she would be considered more relaxed than serious in the sack. Like with murder, sex can be seen as sport to her. It’s something to enjoy, if you can, and not take too seriously. In fact, getting too serious during sex is likely to turn her off.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Provided she doesn’t need a cover that requires her to be otherwise, Death is always very well groomed. Her wigs are always in perfect condition and of the highest quality, she attends famous salons, and uses high-end products. Assuming she’s not wearing a wig, the carpet does, in fact, match the drapes and is often trimmed to a manageable “landing strip”.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Sex is a means to an end, it’s a game, it’s never a romantic/bonding moment for her…even when she might behave romantically. During sex she’s goal-oriented - whatever the goal is - rather than emotional. Attempts to add intimacy or some element of love-making may very well unnerve her as she’s unsure what to do with any sort of attempt at (emotional) depth during the act.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Death does masturbate, but not with much frequency. When she does though, she’s far more likely to think of a successful kill than anything else. This said recently she’s found her mind occasionally wandering off to her previous interactions with one Jonathan Pine and been able to find nearly as much satisfaction in those sessions as with thinking about prior kills. She’s also fantasized about her and Pine killing together…everyone needs goals, right?

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

She’s big into knife, gun, and blood play…usually subjecting her partner to such things, but not averse to letting specific, repeat, lovers also hold to a blade or weapon to her or even cutting her some. Anything rough, pseudo-violent, or aggressive are always going to be up Death’s sexual alley.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

Usually somewhere private because she’s often about to kill her partner OR is otherwise trying to keep a low profile. This said, if the mood strikes her, Death will have sex regardless of where she is. She doesn’t care about getting caught and sometimes find amusement both in her partner’s potential worries and the shock of others when she is.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

More than anything (even aggression), it’s a challenge that arouses Death’s desire. Someone who can take her on without fear or thoughts/hopes of outright taming her. They need to be not easily defeated, not willing to just fold to her, but also willing to stroke her ego by letting her win. It’s a difficult balance and rarely achieved by others, but a select few have managed to get her truly aroused…including her latest lover, Pine.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

That soft, sweet, gentle, and emotionally intense act known as love-making. While she’s had to act it out to get close to targets, she hates it. At best it’s a boring turn-off, at worst it makes her outright uncomfortable.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She’ll always prefer receiving, even if she doesn’t reach orgasm it can feel amazing and get her close enough to satisfy. It’s also one of the few times she’ll allow herself to be in a potentially vulnerable position. While she will give, and can be quite skilled at it, Death is rarely into the act…it’s far more likely that she thinks it’ll help lower the other’s guard and/or get her whatever she truly wants. IF she gives for the sheer enjoyment, however, she’ll absolutely put her considerable skills to use and indulge her partner, not stopping until they’re begging for climax and nearly fainting after.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Often fast, always rough bordering on violent. She can go slow, sensual, but only does so as is necessary. She’s far more likely to enjoy taking her time with a kill than a fuck. Even if she slows things down, the aggressive side remains nevertheless.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Death will absolutely prefer a quickie over proper sex; a quickie gets the sex out of the way so she can move onto her true goal, whatever it may be. 9/10 times she will indulge in fast and furious sex over anything else and this has borne out even with those she wishes to have sex with.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

For her profession she can’t exactly afford to be squeamish so she forever remains open to new experiences. At least trying something new keeps it interesting, give her ideas for when she might select a lover on her own. And risky behavior is in her nature in every day life so it feels almost natural in the bedroom or anywhere else she might have sex.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Given her athleticism, that she’s got the strength and stamina to kill fully grown men if need be, she’s more than capable of going a few rounds in the sack…she rarely does though. More often than not she feigns exhaustion to not have to continue. If she keeps going, encourages another round, you’re doing something very right.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Aside from the standard vibrator, Death doesn’t have much in the manner of sex toys. Any she might need she’ll merely buy, then get rid of once they’re no longer of use…just like most her partners, haha! Her own vibrator is usually just reserved for herself, but she’ll use it on a lover if the mood strikes her. One toy that she buys with more frequency and for her own, personal, pleasure though is a strap-on…one that’ll she’ll use on whatever lover allows her the pleasure to. Death also uses rope, cuffs, knives, and even guns her in sex-play, but those hardly qualify as standard “sex toys”. It’s more common for her to use them on her partner - merely because she finds more power in doing so - but isn’t averse to having them used on her now and again.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Just as she doesn’t want a partner to just fall into the sack with her, she refuses to do any such thing herself. Beyond just teasing, she enjoys posing a challenge. If you want to be a true lover of hers you’ll have to prepare for a chase, for her to tease until you’re ready to just force her into submission.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Her profession, her life, is all about staying under the radar and that translates into sex as well. While she can get loud if need be, Death tends to remain as quiet having sex as she does killing a target. If you can get her to make any kind of genuine sounds, no matter how small or rare, you should consider yourself thoroughly enjoyed by her. The sounds she actually make tend more towards deep moans, groans, and gasps…if you can make her pitch high you’ll be her new favorite.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Her dealings with Jonathan Pine are highly unique for Death. Not only did she get sexual with him for little reason aside her own enjoyment, she neither killed nor seriously harmed him after even when it may have benefited her to do so. She’s allowed him to top her on more than one occasion, freely given him oral sex, and even found his taste acceptable. Beyond sex she’s also let him into her private world a touch and indulged in softer, more “romantic”, acts such as dancing. While she would not declare any kind of love for him, she does care for him and finds enjoyment with him beyond sex and violence.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Death is athletically built with thin, but firm, muscles throughout. While not the classic hourglass figure, she most certainly has the curves of an adult female and would not be mistaken for a male unless she made the effort to do so. Her breasts are noticeable, though may be considered small by some while her ass is rounded, high and tight, atop muscled thighs. Her skin is smooth, not tattooed, but spotted with various scars in different stages of healing. As mentioned prior her pubic hair is well-trimmed (and occasionally waxed) into a landing strip…her inner lips just poke out from her outer, clit is of average size and sensitivity, and she only bleaches her asshole if she feels she must for a job, which is incredibly rare.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

She actually has a remarkably low sex drive given how much sex she has. Death would be completely fine going years without sex as, in general, it’s viewed as a tool more than a pleasurable activity. This said, if she finds someone with which she finds the act pleasurable, her sex drive may increase significantly…but only with that specific person.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Death usually doesn’t actually stick around long enough to fall asleep or has sex at times of the day not conducive to going to sleep afterward, haha! On those occasions in which sleep would be an option she still rarely does though. She leaves or stays up listening to the other person sleep until she can longer remain awake. Actually sleeping with another is rare for her, but a sign of trust if she does - whether of the person or merely their inability to hurt her.

((And that’s what I’ve got for Death at the moment, haha! I don’t see much changing beyond what occurs in character growth, which will happen over time, no doubt. Thanks again for asking for this, Anon, it was a ton of fun and highly educational for me!!))

#jonathan pine #the night manager #death #aka pine's love #encounters with death #characters in my head #headcanon #asks #asked and answered #repost

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riddleredcoats · 5 years

Note

“You’ve fucked up for the last time!” + bellamort

Prompt - You’ve fucked up for the last time!

Thank you for asking, I hope you like it (whoever you are!)

Rated: T bordering on M, for a little foreplay. I need fluff after that last one I did. (She said like an idiot but still found herself crying at the middle of it)

Sorry, this was so late, XD. Starting a new school year put a damper on things. This was actually ready a couple days ago but needed serious editing.

The cool night air of an otherwise hot summer day was like a balm on Bellatrix feverish skin. She bit her blood-red-painted lips to keep an uncharacteristic girly giggle contained deep in her chest and tilted her long neck to give better access to the man’s lips on her pulse. She moaned when his tongue swiped against her skin and his mouth climbed to nibble her ear, his hands, however, descended from her waist to sneak up her legs beneath the knee-length black skirt.

The cold skin of his palms rubbed against her burning hot tights, “Oh,” She whimpered loudly, grey eyes closed tightly, unaccustomed with the carnal desire that was warming her veins starting and spreading to wherever he touched her, “Oh, Tom.”

He smirked into her neck, although it didn’t last long as she instinctively bucked against him. He groaned from deep within his chest and moved his mouth from her neck to her lips, giving her feverish hot kisses, deep and hard and all-consuming, leaving her dizzy and high and wanting oh, so much more. He pushed her further against the outside wall of her parents’ Manor set against the path that gave way to her mother’s Greek-inspired garden, the wall that stood right beneath her bedroom’s balcony. If he wanted, and oh how she hoped he wanted, they could easily sneak up her bedroom and finally, finally, finally…

Abruptly, he pulled himself away from her, leaving her cold against the summer breeze. Bellatrix could feel a pout starting to form on her kiss-swollen-lips as she knew the routine by now. They’d been…- well, she hesitated to say dating, but really there wasn’t any other word for it – dinners at fancy restaurants, private lunches during his lunch break, nights at some library or another, political rallies for his movement hosted by friends and acquaintances - … So, yes, they’d been dating and sharing fantastic – mind-blowing, breath-taking, unbelievably scorching – kisses for a couple of months now and every night he brought her home they ended up like this; endlessly kissing while he teased and groped and seemed to lose himself a little more each time. But he always, always, always – frustrating, how consistent he was – stopped before he fully took her.

She sighed, despairing and needy, oh, so needy. She felt him chuckle against her mouth, this infuriating man who held so much power in his hands that it made her literally tremble with unrestrained desire. She gasped, half-panting, half-mad at the vibrations his laugh caused to ripple through her.

“Please.” Oh, he’d be so smug that she’d begged, but she couldn’t help herself. Her desire to have him had only climbed higher and higher in these last months. She ready. Oh, she was so ready.

Unfortunately, he seemed to disagree.

He put some distance between them and exhaled painfully, as if it tortured him to do so, “We can’t.”

Bellatrix groaned at the predictable answer but instead of being difficult and trying to press against him, Bellatrix decided instead to take him in. He was older than her, certainly, clear by the scarce lines in his face and the greying black hair, but he was so handsome, still. Dark eyes staring deep into her grey, sharp lines across his jaw stained by her lipstick, perfect lips swollen from their kisses, hair left in disarray by her frenzied hands. She took a step back and simply admired his good looks, as she often did much to his amusement and unbearable ego.

She’d never forget the first time she saw his face proper; intelligent eyes and power flowing all around his delicate features and when he ‘d first spoke to her she’d forgotten her damn name, he had then kissed her hand, setting every part of her aflame. They’d started a conversation and for the first time in her life, it was Bellatrix who struggled to keep up, no one had ever matched wits with her the way he did.

He was near penniless, obviously, she had gathered that much from the conversation, but she continued talking to him, accepting even a dinner invitation that had doubled as their first date. She had left the restaurant even more enthralled by him. She had quickly summarized their chances in her head after the first date: One; She was a girl in a world in which her only job was to secure a good, profitable match, her father had no sons, so it fell to her to find an advantageous match and Tom was penniless and a half-blood, but that didn’t make her want him any less. Two; She had a match already, technically, and although Rodolphus fell below her family’s standards he was a good match. Three; She was a Black and that would elevate his status, she’d have to be naïve to set that aside, but if she gave him legitimacy, he gave her freedom.

In the end, she had decided he was worth the trouble. Not enough to elope, certainly, since it would ruin both their plans, but enough to try.

“You know,” Bellatrix smirked up at him, coyly, “My bedroom is right upstairs.”

He groaned, “You’re young, still.” He rumbled against her, despondent. And as lustful as her.

“Not that young.” She replied with a wicked look in her eyes, and moved her legs against his, feeling his attraction to her as strong as hers if the hardness against her stomach was any indication. He groaned again and bent his head to crash their lips together in a lust-filled kiss. She whimpered and near downright mewled against his heavy, demanding mouth and felt him close to giving in, for he was moving against her with a fervour that betrayed his intentions perfectly. Her hands instinctively rose to fiddle with his tie, but he seemed to regain his senses.

He grabbed her hands tightly, “Wicked little thing.” He whispered, his lips brushing against hers with every syllable he uttered. Bellatrix leaned up trying to steal another kiss, but he pulled away from her at the last millisecond, so close that she felt a whisper of his lips on hers, and she sighed when he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed away a little. Tom took a deep breath, to steady himself most likely, before speaking, “We have to stop.” It was clear how it pained him to say so. “Until Rodolphus’ contract passes to your sister, we can’t… I-It’s too much…” He uncharacteristically stumbled through words, his desire truly making itself known, he took another deep breath, he took a mech of her hair and stroked it, “We need to restrain ourselves. You can’t break your marriage contract, your father-…”

Bellatrix smiled brightly up at him. That was her big surprise for the night; she had no marriage contract to break, because finally after two months of trying and trying, she had managed to direct Rodolphus’ contract to her sister, Andromeda, who had always gotten along swimmingly with Rodolphus. Her daddy had been fondly exasperated by her scheming and her reluctance to get a fiancé, but when she said she had someone in view, he had relaxed and sent her on her own merry way with the promise to remain pure until her engagement, at least. Which now really was, thankfully, only a few days away.

At her smile, he’d paused. He’d guessed then, of course. His intelligence was as attractive as his body and his power.

“Did you-…?” He didn’t finish the sentence, there was no need to, her smiling eyes and bitten lower lip twisted up in a smirk were enough of an answer for him. He picked her up again, and then ravenously crashed their lips again. As his tongue pressed voraciously against her lips, Bellatrix realized with a needy moan then that he’d been holding back all this time. He grabbed her with a force, lifting her by her ass and pinning her up against the wall, Bellatrix moaned as his hand felt heavy on her tights and climbing up to caress her. But if his hand felt heavy and hard, it didn’t compare to the heaviness of his kisses and how he thrust his tongue down her throat.

Merlin, it was as if something had suddenly shifted now that they were free, now that they could – and would – marry. The very ground on which they stood was shaky, but with him, she felt as if he was the ground beneath her feet. The solid base from which she’d build her life.

“We need-…” Bellatrix laughed as he kissed her again, impeding her from completing her sentence. She tried again, “We need to-…” Another kiss. Bellatrix, tilted her head so his next kiss was on her jaw, instead of her already swollen lips, she breathed heavily “We need to tell Daddy.” She finally got the words out, but to no avail, it seemed since all he did was kiss her lips again.

“Tomorrow.” He guaranteed, between heavy kisses, “We’ll tell him tomorrow.” And then, the blasted man put a little distance between them, making her sigh in protest and – unfortunately – resignation at her fate. “You can wear your ring when we tell him.” She smiled at that, she had wanted to put it on from the moment he had presented the ring to her on a little black box.

Bellatrix took a step back, willing herself not to drag him upstairs by the neck, “Alright. I need to go up, I’m already late.” She lamented the fact that at her age she still had a curfew, but just because she had to be in her bedroom it didn’t mean she couldn’t be with her… fiancé, “Unless you want-…” She gestured upstairs.

“No. We’re so close. No.” He repeated. With a heavy, “If I want to win this war, I need your father’s support.” His tone was nearly apologetic, although she was aware he was only sorry he couldn’t have her now. “We can’t risk doing anything to jeopardize his support.”

“Daddy wouldn’t-…”

“You’re your father’s favourite daughter,” He responded, dryly, well aware of what that preference had brought them, “He would blow a casket if he found you… sullied in any way.” Bellatrix glare told him exactly what she thought of his choice of words. “I-… Well, I mean-…” He stumbled through his words, only she left him like that. Impossible woman.

Blessedly, Bellatrix stopped his flailing about, “I know what you mean.” She pouted, “Fine.” With that she turned away, ready to climb up the little hidden ladder that gave way to her bedroom. Just as she was about to start her climb, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him for one last kiss. It was a mere brushing of lips, but it still calmed her temper well enough. When he pushed her away he had a mischievous smile on his lips, as if terribly proud of himself to be able to deter her temper. She hmphed, unimpressed, and threw a half-hearted glare his way, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” He echoed and took a step back, letting her climb up the ladder.

Bellatrix spared him one last look before climbing up, and as she did so, she bit her lip, amused. She could his eyes on her. Well, on her ass to be specific, it was terribly flattering really. Once she reached her balcony she managed, after some maneuvering due to her tight skirt, to slip into solid ground. As soon as her feet were steady, she rushed to the railing just in time to see him turn to leave.

Bellatrix leaned against the railing and watched him disappear into the forest that surrounded her Manor. Only when he was out of sight did she finally turn to enter her bedroom. She pushed open the grand French doors and just as she was about to cast some light into the room a voice spoke low from the darkness, making Bellatrix jump.

“You’re late.” The words sounded slurred, barely understandable.

Despite this Bellatrix was barely to decipher just who exactly had spoken.

“Daddy!” She yelped and let out a little chuckle, “You scared me.” She breathed, “You do there are candles in the room, right? You could have lit one, for heaven’s sake.”

He gruntled and with a flick of his wrist the candles in her room came to life, casting a glow all around him. Bellatrix closed her eyes tightly willing her eyes to adjust to the light, and when she opened them again, she had to bite her tongue to not yelp in surprise. Her father looked a mess. He’d been drinking, that much was obvious but by itself not overly concerning, he had probably been celebrating with Lancaster Lestrange their new-found match. However, when Bellatrix looked at his accusing grey eyes, she knew differently.

He seemed to have been stewing in his bad temper all night. Bellatrix tilted her head at her father, unsure as to why he was looking at her with such eyes. It scared her, how deranged he looked; his grey eyes – almost like a reflection of her own – were wide and wild, the iris barely visible under the emotional torrent that swirled all around him, his black hair was in disarray and mussed by what seemed to be his own hands, his suit was wrinkled and stained with what smelled like whiskey.

Cygnus snarled, “Lancaster saw you with your tongue shoved down some man’s throat.”

Bellatrix looked baffled at her father, “Yeah, you knew I was dating someone, Daddy.”

Cygnus spoke through gritted teeth, “Tell at least that you’re still pure, you wretched girl.” Bellatrix startled at his accusation, and Cygnus spoke through his daughter’s sputtering, “Tell me you haven’t fucked up that badly.” Bellatrix could seem to form words, her father’s implication honestly insulting to the point of speechlessness. Cygnus then rose his voice high enough to make the picture frame on Bellatrix’ desk tremble, “TELL ME YOU’RE STILL PURE!”

“I AM!” She yelled back, unaccustomed with her father’s strict tone, “Daddy, for Gods’ sake, I am still pure. It was just a kiss!” She explained, her hands animated her frustration, “And why the hell does Lancaster Lestrange even care, exactly? The contract is with Meda now.”

That seemed to set Cygnus’ temper aflame.

“You’ve fucked up for the last time!” Cygnus pointed at his daughter, furiously moving in her direction. Bellatrix, fearful of father for the first time in her life, took a step back and flinched back into the wall. “Bellatrix, this can’t happen again… No!” He roared, and the entire estate shook under its Lord’s temper, “This won’t happen again, hear me, girl?!” He approached her and trapped her against the wall, got close enough that when he snarled at her, she could feel droplets of spittle on her face, “You will not be a disappointment, my girl, oh no, no, no!” He seemed deranged, “You won’t embarrass the family any further!” He grabbed her arm tightly and dragged her even closer to him and roughly lifting her head to look her in the eyes.

Then, he suddenly stopped. He stopped as soon as he took the fear in her grey eyes – eyes so resembling his and his other daughter. Bellatrix saw, panicked, her father’s face twisted into a grimace and his grey eyes filled with unshed tears, and then Cygnus Black, tall and strong – a titan among men, really –, suddenly fell into his knees, sobbing and clutching his daughter tightly to him. He buried his head in her stomach, pain and misery irradiating off of him like a wave.

“D-Daddy!” She yelled, rendered utterly speechless at the display. Her father, however, didn’t listen so deep in misery he seemed to be. Bellatrix, worried for her mother or oh, Gods above, no, please, please, not her sisters! She tried to shake him off his hysteria, “Daddy! What’s wrong?!” She desperately tried disentangling them to no avail. She realized that she had to let him calm himself down, she aided him by carefully rubbing his back, the way he had done when one of her nightmares had plagued her mind while young.

When he seemed far more in control, and yet still clung to her, Bellatrix tried again.

“For Gods’ sake, tell me what’s wrong.” She whispered, afraid to set him off, “Is it mum?” He remained quiet and unresponsive. Her fear rose, if it wasn’t her mother…, “Narcissa?!” Bellatrix gasped through her youngest sister’s name. But when her father said nothing, she knew. She knew, even if she didn’t want to believe it, and she managed rasped out a resigned, “…Andromeda?”

That had made a rise out of him.

He stood abruptly and she let out a cry, as a result, he pushed her back roughly and as he did so, he towered over her and then spoke, vitriol in his every effect from his tone to his red-rimmed, mad grey eyes which looked to be raging like one of Zeus’ legendary thunderstorms.

“That name passes through our mouths no longer.” Bellatrix felt an icy grip to her heart. It couldn’t be. Her sister wouldn’t have. She refused to believe it. Her father’s wrath, however, told her otherwise, “From now on,” magic rose in the room as Cygnus Black – second son of the Black golden generation, Heir to Britain’s oldest Noble Family, Inheritor of titles that rightfully belonged to them for a millennium now – vowed before his ancestors in that most ancient Estate, “I only have two daughters.”

The ancient magic in that place willed it so and Bellatrix felt a stung in her eyes, knowing without needing to look that the Tapestry in their living room was missing another name that night.

Her father rose, his long robes billowing about him from both his magic and the wind coming from her open balcony. Her father made way to storm out of her room as Bellatrix stood stock-still, still processing what her sister had done. Her father didn’t need to explain, everyone knew… Her sister had run away with the Mudblood. Bellatrix swayed a little under the heaviness of the situation, the consequences hitting her like a stab wound, one by one each more painful than the last, and she collapsed shell-shocked on the white chaise long that was luckily there to catch her flailing knees.

Her father however, twisted the knife further, “Rodolphus contract now rests with you, daughter. This man you’re seeing… It’s over.” With that he turned and left her alone.

Her thoughts, as they often did, settled on Tom. A fear unlike any other gripped her heart for she knew what had to be done.

The next day…

Bellatrix nodded at Stephan Wilkinson, the guard in the ministry’s office of Accounting and Financing, as she passed the threshold of the fireplace into hall of that part of the Ministry. Stephan knew her well by now, these past months she had come and gone often enough that he didn’t even raise his eyebrow anymore and in fact merely nodded right back at her. She walked to along the brightly lit hallway and as she found herself at the door of his office she swallowed a gulp.

She’d considered delaying it, but knew if she’d done so, she’d never be able to go through with it. Bellatrix took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing, distraught heart but to no avail, there was nothing to be done; her heart had hardened to many things but to this – to him – she knew she’d never be able to, her heart had never done her bidding when it came to him, she doubted it ever would. She knew her fate, to be perpetually in love with a man who wanted her back, but who she could never have.

Her hand gipped tightly the little black box in her hand, the ring he had given her inside, not as fancy as Rodolphus’ own that now adorned her hand, but dearer to her heart than any jewellery, mansion, or thing that Rodolphus could ever give her. The tears that sprung in her eyes were a familiar sting now, all night they fallen down her face, so much so that not even the heavy amount of makeup she was wearing could hide the swollen face and blotchy, red-rimmed eyes. Still, Bellatrix steeled her heart and knocked on the heavy brown door.

“Come in.” His voice sounded cold from the other side of the door, but that was nothing new; he was always cold as ice when at the office. With a last steadying breath she opened the door to his office, and as he looked up, his voice warmed along with his eyes. He spoke her name gleefully, as his lips twisted up to form a barely detectable smile, “Bella.”

His small smile was her undoing.

Bellatrix felt her lips twitch under unbearable misery and grey eyes cloud with unshed tears, she bent her head trying to hide it from him, but he saw it well enough and he knew her well enough. It took him seconds to approach her and even if he didn’t touch her, or didn’t comfort her, his mere presence was enough. It was always enough.

“What’s wrong?” The urgency in his tone seemed to spur something in her. She threw herself into his chest, clinging to him as her tears reached a silent, but grief-stricken, crescendo. He didn’t touch her, didn’t pull her to him and didn’t hug her like one might. He simply let her be inconsolable in her grief. When her sobs settled and his tie was well and truly soaked through with her tears, he asked her again, “Bella, what’s wrong?”

She rose her head from his chest and selfishly – greedily, angrily, agonisingly – gave him their very last kiss. Their lips touched without a plump, her misery making the kiss nothing more than a messy, uncoordinated mash of lips, teeth and tongue. His hands finally rose to touch her; more precisely to touch her shoulders and push her away, unable to withstand her wretched desolation.

She felt him withdraw and an involuntarily muffled howl escaped her raw throat; it wasn’t enough, their last kiss shouldn’t be so, so, so… There were no words left within her to express herself. He withdrew from her with a wince, he wasn’t a stupid man by any means, he knew – had felt in her kiss – their time was over.

“No.” His voice was the one spoke, sounding as icy cold as it first did when she knocked. Now, it was Bellatrix herself flinched. He spoke again, this time his voice rose with a command, “Explain.” Single words were the extent of their ability to communicate under such a gut-wrenching sate.

Bellatrix swallowed the heavy lump in her throat and spoke for the first time since the night before, her voice raw, “Andromeda.”

He straightened himself up. He didn’t need any more than that. Andromeda was gone with her Mudblood, and the consequences were all too clear. A contract was waiting to be fulfilled.

Still, he tried; he tried, one last time, “Marry me, still.” Pleading was perhaps too strong a word, but it didn’t make it any easier to refuse. His intelligent eyes were wide, almost desperate, even if the rest of his face stood stock-still.

“I can’t.” She was steadfast and it broke her to be so, but there was no other choice. Not for her. Her family and its honour would always come first. She had made a pledge to bind herself to Rodolphus and she’d do so, no matter how agonizing it would be. And Tom? Tom simply stood there, his face harder than she’d ever seen it and she forced herself to repeat the words that shattered her soul, “I can’t marry you.” A flinch made itself known in his otherwise stoic face and, oh, he was Tom no longer, not to her anyway, and Bellatrix felt a stab in her heart. He was simply the Dark Lord now. Bellatrix swallowed the tears in her throat and then in the spur of a moment born out of utter desperate misery, knelt, deferent before him, “But I will fight for you, my Lord.”

After a heavy sigh, his hand settled on black hair, petting her head a detached sort of way, it would be in a way, the only sliver of the burning, whirlwind romance that had claimed their souls.

————————-

Oh, I am in a MOOD these days. Again, this was supposed to be a funny little romp where Cygnus discovered Tom/Bellatrix but it ended up taking me here… How fun. (Please kill me)

Also please tell me, does this still count as Bellamort? I think the plot ran away from me.

#bellamort #fanfic #mine #bellatrix black #Voldemort

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chubbyooo · 5 years

Text

Blurred Lines:Cursed Past Chapter 45 - The Truth

Hey guys don’t worry I’m not dead sorry for the extended break but I was moving into my new house, it kinda works tho cause there’s a little time gap for this chapter only like a week tho. So let’s get back and catch up with Kyradia

Kyradia wakes up with her wound healed but something seems off

Kyradia dawdled into Zash’s chambers as Zash sat at the desk expectantly, she’d called her in earlier and Kyradia wasn’t sure wether to be flattered or frightened of the opportunity she imagined every acolyte went through this and it was just her turn still she could take advantage. Still she had to admit Zash kinda intimidated her in a strangely unique way, she didn’t get easily intimidated Harkun had called her slave every second he could and she didn’t care at all. But Zash she had this presence that Kyradia couldn’t quite place she imagined with training that feeling would pass but for that she had to be chosen and that was the hard part.

Kyradia sat down in the chair opposite her not making eye contact, Zash turned to her “Kyradia is it?” Zash had a weirdly friendly smile on her face as she asked the question

Kyradia nodded “uh yes my lord” she tried her best to replicate Zash’s accent after all she had to fit in with the empire. She could feel Zash’s imposing form bearing down on her she hoped she’d hit her growth spurt soon being so small did not help her case.

Zash leant forward lifting Kyradia’s head up to reach her vision “do you have a last name Kyradia?” Kyradia hesitated before shaking her head

Zash grinned “good right answer” Kyradia noticed looking around the chamber powerful sith objects she felt rather overwhelmed with all the energy in the room “now Kyradia I mentioned last time when we met I sensed an immense amount of power within you” Kyradia tensed up did she know? how could she know? “do you remember that Kyradia?”

Kyradia shuffled awkwardly “um yes my lord I’m flattered” may as well add a bit of praise in there stroking a siths ego had proved useful before

Zash cocked her head “but well it’s uniquely different Kyradia isn’t it, I sensed your potential and then there’s” she paused “somehow more, like your power has been concentrated” Kyradia frowned she only understood about half the words Zash said she really had to work on her basic but she understood the gist. “do you happen to know how that happened Kyradia my dear how you became this way?” Kyradia felt like she knew what it was but she couldn’t talk about it and it could not be it, it may be completely unrelated.

Kyradia hesitated “uh no my lord I have always been this way” hopefully it’d come off as young naivety and not

Zash’s expression dropped “but that was a lie wasn’t it Kyradia” Kyradia’s eyes widened what how could she tell this wasn’t how this went. “when you told me that back then and every other time since it was a lie, correct Kyradia?” Zash stood up and leant over bearing down on Kyradia. Kyradia was too paralysed with fear and surprise to do anything “I think you do know and you’ve hidden it from me all these years” Kyradia felt her breath quicken as she began to hyperventilate “you can’t hide from it forever I will find it especially now I’m in here Kyradia” Kyradia felt sick as everything went white

Kyradia jolted awake suddenly and was met with a sharp pain from her stomach she held her hand to the healed scar on her stomach. She took a few deep breaths it was all just a dream brought on by everything, she felt someone holding her hand.

She turned to see Lana looking at her with a worried expression “Kyradia are you alright” Kyradia refocussed she had been healing in a bacta tank she must be back on Odessen

Kyradia cleared her throat “uh yeah just shaken” Lana frowned obviously doubting Kyradia’s claim

she raised her eyebrow “are you sure I could see you shaking before you woke up” Kyradia sighed fine

Kyradia sat up holding her knees “uh yeah just a bad dream sorry” Kyradia noticed Lana smiling which seemed a little off for her at least recently “um are you aware of what happened?” Kyradia sighed remembering she still had to deal with Zash

Lana nodded “yeah Ashara caught me up don’t worry” Kyradia grimaced, she promised herself she’d tell Ashara the truth once she was back on Odessen and unfortunatley that was now. “sorry I sent you on it I thought it’d be good to get you doing something I didn’t realise your old master would be around” Lana looked away as she spoke

Kyradia chuckled “don’t worry I don’t think anyone could’ve predicted that, and to be honest it was good for me ya know until the Zash thing” Lana chuckled back Kyradia hoped the alliance had done ok without her

Lana smiled “well unfortunately this isn’t just a friendly visit I have a few things I need you to sign for the alliance” there it is Kyradia didn’t mind because she should be handling it but she never did.

Kyradia took the holopad “no worries let me just give them a quick skim” Kyradia had a look through seemed pretty normal trade delegations, promises for the war effort, hiring some new staff. Kyradia signed them she usually assumed if Lana had read them they’d be in her best interests.

Lana smiled “thanks I’ve been a little swamped at the moment what with well you know” Kyradia grimaced

“yeah I know I’ll try to be more on the ball after I’m healed and uh Zash is dealt with” Lana nodded Kyradia didn’t know if she meant it but only because every time one crisis seemed to end another one arrived

Lana smiled “alright well I’ll leave you to your other guests and I imagine they won’t make you sign anything” Kyradia laughed as Lana exited the room. She was alone in the room for about five minutes, she took a long deep breath and took stock of the situation. Yeah things were bad but she could deal with this it’s only Zash and her friends were helping her, things certainly weren’t great but they were also not the worst thing possible. After about five minutes the familiar orange form of Ashara rushed through the door

Ashara smiled “oh thank the force you’re finally awake” she scurried over and sat down

Kyradia frowned “finally? how long was I out?” she’d assume a couple days at least

Ashara looked away “um about a week” Kyradia’s eyes widened “the wound was real deep so it took a while” Kyradia nodded that was fair she remembered how much it’d hurt at the time.

Kyradia noticed Ashara’s montrals looked back to normal “hey you got your montrals fixed” Ashara smiled twirling the end of her montral

“uh yeah i got them reattached they don’t work anymore though they’re just for symmetry” Kyradia chuckled to herself, Ashara smiled too she was glad she’d got them sorted out “uh so how are you feeling?” that was a loaded question

Kyradia hesitated “well uh to be honest I feel like shit but ya know I’ll get healed up and then I can deal with that feeling” Ashara nodded “and by that feeling I mean Zash” Ashara continued nodding chuckling “and by I can deal with I mean kick her teeth in” Ashara raised her eyebrow

“i got it Kyradia don’t worry I’m sure we’ll bring her to justice” Kyradia chuckled for a second before falling silent she had to tell her she should never have kept it form her

Kyradia sighed “Ashara I need to tell you something” Ashara’s expression dropped becoming very serious “I told you a while ago I made a bad call and that’s why Kavaraa is uh gone”

Ashara nodded “yeah I remember don’t worry it’s ok” Kyradia looked away yeah but it wouldn’t be ok when she knew

Kyradia continued ‘I still want to tell you just so I’m not hiding anything” Ashara nodded “when I was told to chose between the empire and republic in the coming war I chose the empire but to secure our loyalties I had to help out” Ashara frowned “on Ossus” Ashara’s eyes widened

Ashara stuttered “n-no K-kyradia p-please” Kyradia felt the put in her stomach but she had to tell her otherwise she hadn’t changed

Kyradia took a long sigh “I helped Darth Malgus remove the jedi presence from the planet” Kyradia looked at Ashara she could see tears begin to well up in her eyes oh no she’d lost her again she’d done it again.

Ashara was silent for a while “why didn’t you tell me” her face was cold and serious

Kyradia stammered “I-I-I was scared of what you’d think of me” that was true she meant it she knew she did

Ashara stood up “I-I’m sorry I uh I need to go” Kyradia could see the tears in her eyes as Ashara turned around.

Kyradia reached out “Ashara wait please?” but she was already leaving the room, no she hadn’t had time to explain her regrets or anything this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

She got up to try and follow Ashara shuffling out of the medbay to see Ashara picking up pace seemingly distraught. Kyradia tried to follow but was met with a sharp pain from her stomach, damn it she wasn’t healed yet how was she supposed to explain herself she didn’t even know if she could but if she could she had to be with Ashara she was leaving now she was leaving and then it’d be over she’d be alone and have to face Zash alone and then what she’d ruined every friendship she had how could she solve this she had to find her. Kyradia felt the thoughts fill her head she couldn’t think she couldn’t move she was hyperventilating as she stumbled to the balcony and felt herself throw up, but the thoughts didn’t stop after that she felt herself become woozy as her stomach wrung out in pain then she felt her vision go dark passing out...

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ohnojustimagine · 5 years

Text

Bound to Fall

Taichi/Reader/Douki; 3305 words, smut

Content notes: dubious consent, spanking, slurs, anal.

You know you should stop seeing Taichi, because he is, to put it mildly, not a good guy. He is, in fact, a complete and utter creep, but he's unfortunately an exceptionally charming complete and utter creep, and you'll admit, there's something strangely, weirdly attractive about how unashamedly appalling he actually is. Not to mention the complicating factor that he's way, way better in bed than someone so dickish has any right to be.

Which is why you haven't yet managed to make yourself stop seeing him, and also why it's far too late and you should have gone home hours ago, because you're supposed to be up early for work tomorrow, but instead you've spent the evening drinking and being felt up by Taichi in some dive of a bar and now you're back at his place, lying naked on his bed.

He's standing, still fully dressed, and he stares down at you for a minute before taking his phone out of his pocket. You watch him typing, and there's the sound of a text being sent.

"Wow," you say, "I'm so glad I can hold your attention."

He gives you an amused little smirk, setting down his phone as he replies, "Just something I needed to take care of." And you don't ask, because you really don't want to know. But then he kicks off his shoes and climbs up on the bed beside you, lying down with a sigh and kissing you, greedy and messy, just how you like it.

His hands are on your breasts and he moves his mouth lower, teasing one nipple with just the tip of his tongue, sucking it into his mouth as he pinches your other breast, his fingers tight. You feel his teeth on your skin, and you're waiting for him bite down but instead he shifts back up your body, one frustratingly light kiss pressed to your mouth before he licks your ear, and whispers, "Let me tie you up."

"What?" you ask, too distracted to take in what he's said.

He pulls away enough that he can look you in the eye and repeats, "Let me tie you up."

"No," you say immediately. "God, no, I'm not letting you do that."

"So you'd let someone else do it?"

"I have," you reply. "Plenty of times, but you?" You shake your head. "No way."

"Don't you trust me?"

"You know I don't."

"No, you're too smart for that." He laughs, fondly. "Too smart for your own good."

"I thought you liked that about me."

"I do," he says. "It's just that dumb girls are easier to convince to do whatever you want."

"You always convince me," you say, a little more bitter than you intend, because you kind of hate how true that is.

"Yeah, but I have to work for it."

"Doesn't that make it better?"

"Sometimes," he replies with a shrug. "Mostly, it's just annoying."

"You're just lazy."

"I am." He smiles. "So can I tie you up?

"Why do you want to?"

"Because it would be hot."

"It would be," you agree, and yeah, it would.

He licks your face, tongue warm and wet across your cheek. "I'd like seeing you like that," he says, "all helpless, so you can't stop me, so I can do whatever I want to you."

And that makes you instantly suspicious. "Yeah, I kind of get the feeling you've got something specific in mind," you say, looking at him. "That you want to do to me, once I'm tied up, and I'm guessing it's something you know I wouldn't let you do otherwise."

"Maybe," he replies, utterly unrepentant, and for a second you consider leaving, telling him to go fuck himself, but despite your better judgment, you're curious.

You sit up slightly. "What do you usually do to girls once you've gotten them tied up?"

He grins at you. "Anal."

"Well," you say, "you don't have to tie me up to do that."

"No, I don't," he replies. "Not with how much you love my cock in your ass."

"So what is it?" He doesn't say anything, and you sigh in exasperation. "You're not going to tell me, are you?

"No," he answers, with yet another irritatingly smug smirk. "But I promise you'll like it."

And you know you will, because you always do. Taichi might be a huge jerk in almost every possible way, but he always makes sure you have a good time, whatever he does to you.

You roll your eyes, mostly at yourself, because you're pretty sure you're going to regret this, but you say, "Fine."

And the word has barely left your mouth before he's leaning over, opening the drawer of the nightstand and pulling out two lengths of black rope. It's smooth and silky-looking, and as you raise your arms over your head, ready, the tiniest thrill of anticipation rushes through you. You want this, whatever it's going to be, and the not-knowing is somehow part of why you want it, however wrong that is.

But Taichi shakes his head. "No, like this," he tells you, holding his arms wide, and you hesitate for just a second, because you can't help but be aware that you're going to be even more vulnerable, less able to move when tied up in that position, but it's already too late, and so you do as he asks, your arms outstretched, shifting yourself up the bed a little so your hands are against the upright bars of the headboard.

"Good girl," he murmurs, holding one of your wrists gently as he wraps the rope around it, tying it to the headboard. You feel the mattress move as he climbs over you, repeating the action on the other side, binding your other wrist.

You can hear him breathing as he concentrates, and it's actually kind of hot, because Taichi is so rarely serious about anything, and when he is, it's almost as if he's a different person, like you're seeing the real man, the one who's buried somewhere under all that ego and arrogance. But it doesn't last, because he's soon done, and he sits back, looking at you, so very obviously pleased with himself that it's kind of sickening, but you don't protest.

You pull on the ropes, just to be certain, and there's no give in them, none at all, no chance of getting yourself out of this, whatever it's going to be. You're completely at his mercy, and you don't know what it says about you, with how bad that turns you on, but you're not going to think about that.

Not now, anyway, because Taichi's got his hand between your legs, and he's stroking circles over your clit, pushing his fingers inside you, moving them in and out, and while you might be embarrassingly wet, there's something strangely detached about his actions, the way he's going about this. And he's checking, you realize with a sudden chill of apprehension, he's making sure that you're aroused enough for whatever he intends on doing next.

Which should be horrifying, not hot, but you're too into this to care, and he smiles at you. "Now for the best part," he says. He walks out of the room, and he's gone for a good few minutes. You wait impatiently, trying not to squirm, and you're expecting him to come back with some extra-weird toy or something, but then you hear voices, Taichi's and someone else's and shit, you think, all at once understanding exactly what's going on here.

Because Taichi opens the door, strolling back into the room with a dumbass, shit-eating grin plastered across his face, and the guy who follows him in might also be smiling, but you can't tell, because he's wearing a mask, because it's fucking Douki, of course it is, and you can't believe you're so goddamn naive you didn't guess that this was exactly what Taichi had planned.

They both look at you, Taichi smirking, Douki's eyes cool and assessing, the rest of his face hidden, and you yank on the ropes holding your wrists, but they're still tight, holding fast, and god, you could scream at your own stupidity.

"For fuck's sake, Taichi," you spit out. "Why couldn't you just ask me? Why do you have to do it like this?"

"Would you have said yes?" he replies, clearly amused by your reaction.

"No," you say, "I wouldn't. Not with him." You glare in Douki's direction. "No way."

"That's why," Taichi states, simply, as if it's perfectly logical. And you suppose that in some way, it is.

"God, you're such an asshole."

You see Douki's eyes narrow as you speak. "This one," he says to Taichi, "she has a mouth on her. Don't you keep your girls under control?"

"Some of them," Taichi replies, totally unflustered. "This one's more fun if you let her fight it. She always gives in in the end.” He looks down at you. “Don't you, princess?" he says, stroking your leg, and you kick out at him, but he ducks away, laughing.

"She needs a lesson," Douki says, nothing in his voice but a removed-sounding contempt. "Let me teach her."

Taichi smiles at you as he says, "You can do whatever you want to her."

"Fuck you," you growl out at him. "I fucking hate you, I hope you know that."

But he doesn't say anything, and he's still smiling as he watches Douki climb onto the bed, kneeling up beside you, and maybe you should try to kick him, too, but you're guessing that will only make things worse. He looks you up and down with a studied, almost chillingly possessive gaze, then says, quite calmly, "No more talking."

"Why?" you retort, still angry.

"Because you need to learn," he tells you.

You stare up at him for a good, long minute, and you're going to give in, you know you are, but you want to rile him up, piss him off just one more time before you cede all pretense of control. "At least take the mask off," you scoff at him.

"You disrespect me by even asking for that," he hisses out, fire flaring briefly in his eyes, but then he pauses, looking at you more thoughtfully. "But then you know that, don't you?"

And it seems as if that might please him, so he stands up, gesturing at Taichi. "Help me get her on to her front," he says, and Taichi nods.

He unties your hands while Douki holds you down, and you know you've got no chance against the two of them as they turn you over, repositioning you as if you're nothing, merely some object they're readying for use, but you fight it anyway, spiteful enough to want to make them at least work for it, and maybe because you're kind of enjoying it, feeling exactly how strong they are, how useless it is for you to struggle against them. Douki's got a hand pressed down hard in the center of your back, kneeling with one leg across your thighs, and you try and yank your wrist out of Taichi's grasp, but he grips it firmly, laughing as you mutter threats at him, reknotting the ropes until you're again bound in place.

You're panting by the time they're done, whining a little with each exhaled breath, because you hate yourself for letting them do this to do you, for being so fucked up that you actually like it.

Douki straddles your legs, knees tight either side of you so you can't move at all, his hands on your ass, stroking and then squeezing, pinching with sharply rough fingers. But then he sits back slightly, and you wait, impatient, barely able to breathe with the knowledge of what's coming, dreading it and wanting it all at once.

Maybe one minute passes, maybe two, and you try to count the seconds in your head, the silence in the room almost deafening, and just when you think he's not going to, you feel him move, and then his hand lands square on your ass, hard, the sound of it startling, hanging in the air like an echo.

There's the quickest moment of relief as the built-up anticipation dissipates, but then you feel it, the stinging, burning hurt of it and there's no chance for you to react because before you can even gasp, he hits you again, this time on the other side of your ass, just as hard, maybe harder.

And he doesn't stop, doesn't pause, working you over, slap after slap, and you're not used to it like this, as punishment rather than play. When Taichi spanks you, he takes his time, stopping and starting, the discomfort of it contrasted and heightened by gentle caresses, maybe a lingering bite, but it seems Douki has no interest in making this in any way pleasurable for you. This is a man whose only aim is to break you, you realize, and with every single hit your ass becomes even more tender, more sensitive to what he's inflicting on you, building until each slap feels like fire, white-hot with pain.

You bite your lip, so hard you taste blood, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out, but your body starts to move as if instinctively, struggling against him, shoulders straining at the ropes, desperate for any chance of escape. But he only keeps going, without hesitation, his legs squeezed around you like iron, unyielding, holding you down tight.

He hits you again, and then again, until you're sure you can't take it anymore, like this will never end, but then finally you let out a sob, a strangled-sounding noise that feels as if it comes from somewhere deep inside you, some broken, twisted place, and he stops.

"Have you had enough?" he asks you.

"I..." you stutter out, swallowing. "I... don't know." And you don't, you truly don't know what you want.

"Are you going to behave?" he says. "Do as you're told?"

"Yes," you reply, quickly. "Please."

He makes a small noise that you interpret as satisfaction, and then moves off you, sitting on the bed beside you. You breathe out, hoping the worst of it is over, sighing as he strokes up the back of your thighs in a slow caress. When he reaches the top, your legs part to him, as if unconsciously, and it's not until he touches you that you realize how aroused you are, your cunt so wet that his fingers slip inside you with ease.

He laughs, softly. "She likes it," he says.

"She always likes it," Taichi tells him. "She'll give you trouble, but she's always worth it in the end."

You close your eyes, not listening to them, Douki pressing down on your clit, the sensation of it so gentle, so careful it could almost make you forget what's come before, but then his fingers drift up and back. You whine as he touches your ass, the skin still hot and raw, but he pays no attention, spreading you apart with one firm hand, the tip of one finger teasing at your hole.

You breathe in, and Taichi says, "Here."

Douki's hands are gone for a second and you hear slick, wet sounds, but then he's back, his finger sliding into you, now smooth with lube. You flinch, tensing up briefly, before opening yourself to him, arching your back, up wanting more inside you, needing to feel it, because this isn't enough.

"See," Douki tells you. "You know how to be good for for me."

"You don't have to do that," Taichi says. "You can just fuck her, she'll take it."

"Better to make it last," replies Douki. He pushes another finger into you, fucking them in and out of you, and you moan. "This is what you need, isn't it?" he says, softly.

You mewl out a humiliating little note of displeasure as his fingers withdraw from you, and Taichi laughs. "She's such a whore for it," he says. "She just wants cock." You can hear the smile in his voice as he goes on, saying, "Get her ass up, so you can get nice and deep."

Douki doesn't say anything, but he grabs your hips, lifting you up off the bed, and though it's not so easy with the way you're bound, you manage to get your knees up under yourself, legs wide enough to keep your balance.

You fret slightly, body shifting restlessly, waiting, knowing he's preparing himself, but then you feel him, the blunt head of his cock lined up against your hole, beginning to enter you. He's much thicker than Taichi, and he though he goes slow, there's nothing tentative about the motion, no waiting for you to catch up or ease yourself, just one smooth, assertive movement, and you have to breathe out, force yourself not to tense up against him, because you know he won't stop, even if you do.

When he's fully within you, he pauses, just for a second, and you whimper, like something helpless, because he's so big and it's so much, but you love it, this feeling, being stretched out and filled and taken. And then he starts to move, every thrust sharply, viciously hard, his hips hitting the sore, sensitive skin of your ass, the hurt of it all blending into one, overwhelming sensation that keeps going higher.

You're moaning, each sound breaking off into something that's almost a wail, and Taichi's beside you, stroking your hair. "You feel that?" he whispers. "With that big cock in your tight little ass, just how you like it." You gasp as Douki slams into you, again and again, and Taichi practically coos in delight. "You look so pretty," he murmurs. "Oh, baby, I love you to see you like this, all come undone for me."

You hear him breathe in, and he looks up at Douki. "Hit her again," he says. "Just to make sure."

Douki grunts in agreement, pulling out fast enough that you have to hiss in pain, but then he's bringing his hand down on your ass; one, two, three, four, counted off in your head, and you're crying, tears running down your face, choked-out sobs trapped in your throat, but you never want this to stop. He slaps you, one more time, then shoves his cock roughly back inside you, and you can tell he's about to come, fucking into you with increasing speed, uninterested in anything but his own pleasure, one last thrust as he finishes himself, moaning, the sound of it deep, as if resonating through you.

You exhale, shaking as his cock slides out of you, but Taichi's already behind you. "You want some more?" he asks, and it seems it's not a question that requires any answer from you, because he's guiding his cock into you, and fuck, but it hurts, and yet you don't care. And he doesn't go easy on you, pulling your hips back into him with every forward movement, thumbs digging into your bruised skin, muttering under his breath until he starts to come.

It doesn't take long, and when he's done, you're left empty and aching, your cunt throbbing with frustrated need as you whine for more, desperate to be satisfied. "You really are a slut," Taichi says, and perhaps that's affection in his voice, or perhaps you're just so far gone it's what you have to believe, to delude yourself into thinking that any of this is in any way okay. "You want to get her off?" he asks.

"No," replies Douki, firmly decisive, "not yet."

"Later, maybe."

"When she's earned it." Douki runs his hand over your ass, pinching you, and you wince, yelping quietly in pain. "Yes," he says, and you shiver. "We're just getting started."

#ohnojustwrites #njpw imagine #taichi imagine #douki #douki imagine

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miraculous-marinetta · 5 years

Note

Hi! can you do a hc or a one shot where Mari is akumatized (or almost akumatized) after papa garou's episode? It doesn't have to be immediately after Chat rejects her, it can be afterwards, thanks!!

yeah of course love!

AN: Maybe y'all believe Mari is super unlikely to be akumatized but she was almost akumatized in two occasions, so I think it’s possible for her to be akumatized.

It is really looooong and I’m really sorry lol. And yeah is shitty, I can't write anymore.

Marinette was mentalized to handle rejections, after all, whenever she thought she could declare her love to Adrien the only thing that seemed likely was him rejecting her. However declaring her love for Chat Noir was a totally different thing.

As Ladybug, she thought of Chat only as a very good friend and great partner. However, she really like when Chat talked to her or visited her in her civilian form. It made her feel… special, after all a superhero visiting her was really cool, aside from the fact that she was Ladybug.

Marinette really liked when Chat would brag about how strong and agile he was, although she would usually roll her eyes and sass him with a witty comment. She liked when he would really take care of her during an Akuma fight, placing her somewhere safe. Mari liked how sometimes she would be watering her plants on the evening and Chat would drop by to say Hi after a short patrol; Mari would usually give him croissants or cookies, for his travel back home, she would usually also pat his head a little or stroke behind his false cat ears.

She didn’t know when it happened, but a feeling that looked an awful lot like love, rose in her chest. When she told Chat “I love you” she didn’t realize it wasn’t a mere excuse, it was the first thing it came to her mind because it was the first thing she thought of when she saw Chat in her balcony.

She didn’t realize how much it really hurt when she went to class on Monday, word spread fast in the school, and of course there was people in class willing to hurt her.

As the usual clutz she was, she arrived tripping on the classroom stair, going to her seat. She was a little early, all her class mates where there, but the teacher wasn’t, really unusual for Marinette.

As soon as she sat on her seat, she sighed; she was in a neutral mood. Alya, by her side looked at her and smiled.

“Hey girl! Are you fine?” she asked with a happy voice. Nino also looked at her, as he was previously talking with his girlfriend.

“Yeah Alya, how are you?” Mari asked with a tiny smile. Alya told her all about her weekend and how busy was the Ladyblog, however, she didn’t ask about her encounter with Chat Noir. In some part of Alya’s speech, Adrien set foot in the classroom and murmured “Hi” to the small group.

Not long after Chloe approached Marinette’s table, much to Mari’s dismay.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are you okay? Because if I were to be rejected by an alley cat I would be so heartbroken and humiliated.” there was venom in her voice, but something about her word choice surprised Marinette. Chloe could be a lot more hurtful, if she wanted.

“Oh, so little pigtails was rejected by the infamous Chat Noir?” a voice that made even Chloe roll her eyes noted from behind. Lila was showing her presence this morning by squirming in nothing of her business.

“Oh I’m sorry hunny, where you invited to this conversation? I didn’t invited her, did you Marinette?” Chloe asked rhetorically, Mari simply shook her head, between Lila and Chloe, she definitely preferred Chloe. Lila went to her seat like nothing happened. Chloe simply laughed and went back to her seat.

Alya reached for Marinette’s shoulder and squeezed a little. Mari murmured “I’m okay”. Adrien was listening to all the events happening around him, feeling bad, as his alter ego was the one to blame for all this.

Miss bustier started taking attendance. When it was Marinette’s turn she almost missed her name; Lila took the opportunity to make a comment loud enough to reach Marinette’s ears.

“She’s probably distracted, thinking about how handsome Chat Noir is. Too bad he rejected her.” Mari’s breathing faulted a little and it took all her will not to scream and cry right there. She asked to go to the bathroom and went almost running.

She didn’t manage to get to the bathrooms before she started to hyperventilate, so she entered the art room she was familiar with. There was nobody thankfully. Tikki was besides Marinette trying to calm her down. She heard the door open and to her surprise Chat Noir was there, Tikki hid in Marinette’s purse before her partner could see her.

“What are you–?” she was surprised to see the hero there, it was school time, or work time and usually neither of them were free. She was cut out by Chat’s embrace.

“I’m sorry Princess, I’m so, so sorry.”

“No Chat, you don’t have to be sorry. You don’t have to worry about it, for real. Now please, I need to be alone.” Marinette pulled away and kept her distance from the hero.

“No. I can’t.” she looked at him quizzically. “I can’t even think of you getting akumatized. I couldn’t fight you.”

“I’m okay I swear.” she lied, keeping her distance from Chat. For a moment both went silent, the cat refused to go back, still afraid Hawkmoth would take advantage of his Princess. His body went stiff when an Akuma stood still on a shelf.

“Then tell me Marinette, why is there an Akuma on that shelf.” Mari stiffened at her full name and the presence of the Akuma. Chat protected Mari and called Ladybug but there was no answer.

“Let’s close the windows and doors so it doesn’t escape!” Marinette exclaimed, Chat nodded and started to close the windows carefully, Marinette closed the doors quickly and went outside, leaving one of the doors slightly open for Chat. He came out seconds later, the Akuma securely closed inside. “I’ll go to the toilet, I need to wash my face before going back to the classroom.”

“It’s dangerous princess.”

“I’ll be fine, the Akuma is trapped and Ladybug will be in her way, probably. Plus, I’ll be in my classroom.” much to Chat’s discontent, he let her go, and Mari was pleased, otherwise, there wouldn’t be any Ladybug in the school.

After transforming and purifying the Akuma she went back to the classroom as Marinette. Chat Noir was nowhere to be in sight, but she thought that was okay, after all, Ladybug gave the thumbs up to return to normal activities. When she entered the classroom she was welcomed by hugs of her closest friends, and even from unexpected people.

“Where were you Marinette? I was- We, we were really worried!” Adrien told her hugging her tightly. Whatthefuck? What the fuck? What the fuck? that was all Mari could think about, turning red as an apple. She was frozen in her place.

“I just uh, hid in the Ladybug cause I uh, listened some toilet, it was the voice from noice” she told him, with the biggest confidence in the world. She pulled away a little to look at him in the face. “I mean! Uh, I hid in the toilet because I listened some noice, it was Ladybug! Hahahahahaha” she laughed nervously. Adrien chuckled a little and after a few claps from Ms. Bustier everyone went back to their places.

Adrien brain started working a little. He never saw Marinette going back to the classroom, she said herself she stayed in the toilet. She went missing every single time, and call him crazy, but sometimes Marinette’s laugh, or dreamy eyes where identical to his Lady’s. He looked slightly back and looked at Marinette, she was talking to Alya; he could see her earrings, pitch black, but shaped like Ladybug’s.

Could Marinette be Ladybug?

Could Ladybug have been his friend all this time? And just a friend?

Plagg would know, right? He saw her that one time when Mr. Damocles got akumatized.

“Hello Princess.” Chat graciously landed beside her. Marinette looked at him and smile shyly.

“Hi Chat. Sorry about today.”

“Oh no princess, no worries.”

“So, what brings you here?”

“Nothing really, just wanted to spend some time with my favorite girl” he simply said, not looking at Mari. They both sat in the floor of the roof, some cushions scattered around with two blankets and snacks (cookies and croissants).

She felt a little blow in her chest while processing his words. There was no way those words were true; he loved Ladybug, therefore, she was her favorite girl, not Marinette. Funny how they were the same person.

“Can I just hug you Mari? I really need to."Chat said leaning towards her. Marinette gave in, hugging him by his waist, making Chat startled. Both fell down and laughed a little still enjoying their embrace. Chat looked at Mari, thinking once again if she could be Ladybug.

She had all the qualities, he was certain she was really like his Lady, but Adrien wouldn't ask Plagg. He wanted to find out himself, and meanwhile enjoy Mari's company. Maybe Chat was in love with Ladybug, but Adrien would fall for Mari.

#marichat #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #akumatized marinette

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