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bestfriend491 · 1 year

Note

Okoye and f reader. Reader admits her love for the beautiful general.

The Honour Would Be Mine

Okoye x Female Reader

Summary: You and Okoye have been friends for years. Since you were kids. You've been each other's source of support for so long, that the line between a friendship and a romantic relationship have started to blur. The only problem is that you haven't told her that you love her. Will you get to before she starts connecting the dots.

Mostly Fluff and slight angst

Warnings: very long 4k+ words

Okoye didn't notice anything out of the ordinary about your friendship. You two had known each other for so long, after all. It was only expected that you would be close.

The other Dora Milaje could tell something was up with the two of you the moment that they saw the two of you interact.

The first day that you were in the palace, you had just retired as a war dog 4 months prior. Having almost lost your life on a mission, you decided to retire and work in another field. Luckily, Shuri was in need of a new weapons co-designer and technologist.

You studied both jobs while training to become a war dog so you were familiar and had the right requirements to work with her.

It would be a mentally taxing career, you knew that. With the mix of having to make weapons good enough to protect the whole nation, and also your deep perfectionism problem, you knew that this job would be just as challenging if not more challenging than your past one.

You were, however, very happy that you would finally be able to see your friend Okoye more often.

With her working with the Adored Ones, and you working with Shuri making weapons for them, you would probably see the person that you had secretly loved for years a lot more often.

Of course, she didn't need to know that this was the main cause for you taking the job offer, or the fact that you had only really quit being a war dog because of the way she reacted when you came back so injured. That was something that you wanted to keep to yourself.

With years of experience hiding your love for Okoye from her, you thought that you knew how to hide your feelings well.

Unfortunately for you, all of the other Dora saw right through you the moment you and Okoye crossed paths for the first time at the palace. They had all been going to their designated placements for the day, and Okoye had greeted you, choosing to introduce you to everybody else before the day's work started.

"Everyone, meet my good friend Y/n. Y/n this is everyone. That's Ayo, Aneka, Nailah…" Okoye named everyone as quickly as she could, and you waved and greeted accordingly. Though, halfway through, you stopped looking at everyone else and your eyes were back on Okoye.

Nailah looked at Ayo suspiciously, who gave the same glance to Aneka, and soon everyone except Okoye had picked up on the way that you felt.

Nobody said anything fortunately, not wanting to expose something that hadn't been accepted by the two of you. The only person brave enough to say anything to Okoye one day was Shuri.

You'd been there for about 3 weeks. Okoye had just come back from a mission in the Border Tribe and she was summoned to drop by the lab to talk to Shuri about how the new weapons developments were going.

She knocked on the door, not wanting to just enter unannounced, but Griot had already alerted Shuri of her incoming presence so the door opened for her automatically.

"Okoye! It's good to see you." Shuri greeted her, glancing her way for a moment before continuing with her work.

" Mmhm. Likewise." Okoye looked around to see you at a desk station on the right, working silently on something very small. You were in deep concentration.

"You wanted to see me?" Okoye questioned, after a long period of silence.

"Ah, yes. I wanted you to start sending me your weapons reports for the spear. Y/n has nearly finished everything that I needed done for her area so she's going to start off the new designs for the Dora Milaje for me." Shuri stated, now moving with a vile, leading Okoye following her to keep talking, walking further away from you.

"Oh, kulungile (okay). I'll do that as soon as I can." Just as Okoye was headed to leave, Shuri spoke softly, almost as if to not wake someone up.

"She really cares about you."

"Who?" Okoye asked, looking at Shuri with a confused expression on her face.

" Y/n. She barely goes a few hours without asking or talking about you." Shuri smiled, looking your way, causing Okoye to do the same.

You were still hyper focused on your work, fiddling with a program on your beads now.

"Oh, that's just Y/n. She's a very inquisitive and talkative person sometimes, you know. You get used to it though." Okoye responded, thinking that Shuri was merely expressing an unexpected characteristic about you. You didn't look like one to talk much, so it was shocking for some people to see that you talked a lot.

"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. She does talk, but it's only ever about you. I barely know anything about her, that's how much she talks about you. It's like listening to a concerned wife all day."

Okoye was taken aback by this. Nobody had ever said that before.

What was she talking about? You never talked about her, at least not as much as Shuri made it sound like. It was normal to ask about someone that much, wasn't it?

She didn't have much time to think about it though, because at some point, you had seen her and gotten up to greet her.

She pushed the previous thoughts out of her head, not seeing a problem with the amount that you tended to talk about her.

It was 2 months later before the thoughts crept up in her head again.

The two of you had spent the weekend together, catching up with each other while roaming the streets of the capital city in the evening, when her stomach grumbled quite violently.

"Ingaba ulungile (Are you okay)?" You asked her, not sure why her stomach made that sound when she had just finished eating.

"Sorry, I didn't eat Breakfast or Lunch today, I was so busy." She tried to lie. Seeing your face, and also knowing that you weren't dumb, she looked away from you to avoid your displeased gaze.

"They give you time to eat, Okoye. And everybody seems to know that except you." You had walked around and hung out with a lot of the other soldiers over the last few months, and they all seemed to make time to eat. To you, it was only Okoye who never wanted to sit down and eat.

"Here, have the rest of mine for now." You offered and passed her your food, not wanting her to stay hungry.

"Thank you." She said, graciously finishing it in a few bites.

"Do you want to go back to my place? I have ingredients to make food in my fridge."

Okoye knew from your tone that this was more of a command than a question. You were going to drag her to your house to eat whether she liked it or not. And with how the week had been, she was too tired to try and fight you.

So the two of you headed to your house and enjoyed the food that you cooked. The woman could admit that you were easily the best amateur chef that she knew.

She wanted to take some of the food left over with her for the rest of the week, when you stopped her with a dismissive hand.

"You can't take this. If you don't like the food at the palace, at least let me make your food for you. It will be fresh." She looked at you, not believing that you would actually do that.

"You are far too busy with work to have time to cook that often." She tried to dismiss you.

"For you, I will always have time."

You sounded serious, and that worried Okoye a lot. You really didn't have time to do that, even if you wanted to, and there was no way that she was going to allow you to stretch your schedule that thin.

"Don't bother. I'll take these and be on my way." She took the food and reluctantly left, not wanting to entertain your ideas.

Much to her displeasure though, the following work week, everyday someone from the lab would come to her, and hand her food that you had allegedly made for her to eat.

"Y/n again? '' Aneka joked, sitting down and seeing the food that Okoye was struggling to finish. The latter nodded, looking at the food like she was ready to murder it.

"She really must love you, if she's willing to wake up at 3 in the morning to do this everyday. Even I wouldn't be able to do that for Ayo everyday." Aneka admitted.

"I tried to get her to stop, but everyday it's the same thing. People chasing me down to make me eat at her request. " Okoye didn't want to sound like she was complaining. I mean, she hadn't eaten this well in years and she didn't necessarily want it to stop, but it was becoming too much for her.

She got stressed thinking about eating now, and she was also getting worried that you were waking up too early for your own good, just to make her food that she didn't really need.

She didn't want to be a burden to you, but she knew that there wasn't much she could do.

Maybe she could try to talk to you.

"I just can't seem to get that one move right. It's really starting to bother me." Okoye, sat next to you on a bench in the training room.

You listened to her while eating your dinner.

She had tried to tell you that you needed to stop making her food or she would stop eating it, but that plan had completely backfired, because now you just came to find her wherever she was, and you'd stay there to eat with her, which seemed worse than before as now she had only gotten you to spend even more time on her.

"What did Shuri say about the new additions to the spear? Are they nearly ready?" She asked.

"Ewe (Yes). You'll have them in a week or two. We're just getting the finishing touches on them and then they'll be ready for active combat." You said before you let out a yawn, trying to hide your clear feelings of exhaustion

Okoye tilted her head to the left, observing your lazy posture and deep breathing.

You were not very well rested.

"Y/n. You need to go to sleep. I can finish my dinner by myself today." You were ready to protest, knowing Okoye better than most. She wasn't going to eat if you left. Which is why you had to stay with her.

You were going to wait until at least half of her food was finished before you even considered leaving, and right now, only about a quarter had been eaten. You didn't even need to tell Okoye this. She already knew your conditions from previous days where you wouldn't leave her, even when training had started.

She had learnt her lesson then.

"This time I promise. I'll actually finish it."

You stood up, fixing your clothes, before walking over to the centre of the room.

"I'll leave," you started. "If you just give me a few demonstrations."

Okoye raised an eyebrow. "Intoni? (What?)"

"You've been talking about missing too many blindspots while training. I want you to show me a demonstration so that I know what is wrong so that I can tell Shuri to fix it." You lied again. You knew that you were going to be the one to fix it, but you didn't want to be too obvious.

"Kulungile (All right)." So Okoye stood up and showed you her biggest problems with the spear.

Staying true to your word, you let her take you to her headquarters to sleep for the night. This gave Okoye a little bit of hope that maybe things weren't as she thought. She didn't want you to cater to her and spend valuable time doing all of too much for her.

1 week later, Okoye was once again, eating her words.

"Hayi (No), Okoye, I'm pretty sure yours is the only one that does that." Ayo said, inspecting Okoye's new and improved spear, which seemed to come with an extra feature that nobody else's spears came with.

Shuri had been the one to go down and give everybody their spears back, after having them use spare ones for the past month while their ones were being upgraded.

While doing a few test runs together, Okoye had used her Kimoyo beads to look at signal footage of how her spear moved with her body, a feature that she had noticed while testing it the night before.

Everybody around was quick to come and ask her what that was, not having had that in their spears. Okoye tried to tell them that they all had to have it, since they all got the spears updated by the same person.

"Shuri?" She called the royal woman over, wanting to clear the confusion once and for all.

"Ewe (Yes)." Shuri approached, smiling at the feedback that she had been getting.

"Usebenze ngayo yonke imikhonto, akunjalo? (You worked with all the spears, didn't you?) "Okoye asked.

When Shuri nodded, Okoye smiled, having proved her point. But it was far too soon.

"Oh! Except for yours, Okoye. Y/ n did yours because she said you had some unique issues that she wanted to fix."

Everyone made sounds of conclusions as soon as your name was said.

"That makes this whole thing make so much more sense." Aneka said, gaining a few laughs from the others.

Okoye rolled her eyes, sick of the entire situation. She really couldn't get a win with you. Even when you promised not to waste your time doing things just for her, you ended up just doing them in secret.

She really just wanted you to not do so much for her. So she decided that you couldn't possibly be able to interfere if she never expressed a need for help to you.

Hopefully that would help you rest more.

Okoye and Nakia breathed heavily, making sure that the last of the sudden attackers in the big building was gone.

They were in Chicago, helping Shuri gain some Intel on some newfound threats that had been roaming around, supposedly looking for a stolen vibranium item that they planned to use to create a replica of the substance. That was not good for anyone, as now there was a potential for many more threats if someone got their hands on this item.

No nation besides Wakanda knew how to use Vibranium properly so leaving it in the wrong hands was far too dangerous.

The mission turned south when the few threats turned into many, and the 3 had retrieved the item, but had made the threats very angry by doing so.

They had been trying to get home for a few days, but Wakanda's borders were surrounded and it felt like there were thousands of people in this secret gang, ready to kill them the moment that they tried to leave the hotel.

"We don't have anywhere else to go? Not one secret hideout that they wouldn't be able to find us in?" Nakia shook her hand at Shuri's question.

Too many people could know about Haiti, or even the other places that they had built outreach programs and hideouts in.

They were trapped.

"Wait. I might be able to know someone who can get us out of here." Okoye declared and immediately felt a shiver go down her back just thinking about having to do what she was thinking of.

"Y/n? " Shuri guessed, and Nakia raised an eyebrow, looking questionably at the way that Shuri mentioned her former war dog mission partner.

Okoye sighed, nodding silently. Saying a prayer to herself.

She had been trying to keep her distance lately, giving you more time to sleep and rest. You were still by all means a force to be reckoned with, but she had gotten you to loosen up more, so you hadn't done anything extreme for her in a while.

Now, she was going to have to ask you for the biggest favour that she ever had. And this one, she knew that you weren't going to like.

She rang your beads, because she knew that you were not in the lab today.

"Molo (Hello), Okoye." Your face came up, you were in casual wear, nothing fancy for a day off. You looked at the 2 other women standing next to Okoye, all 3 of them looking quite dishevelled.

"Oh. Molweni (Hello) Is everything going okay down there? You all look terrible." You said.

"Y/n. I'm sorry to even have to ask this. But can we please use C'Chowe. I know you don't like allowing anyone to use her, but we really need to right now."

You looked at the holographic Okoye in front of you, in complete shock that she would even mention C'Chowe in front of other people. This wasn't just spending your time and losing sleep on her.

C' Chowe was sacred and not something you mentioned outside of private conversations.

Her asking this was a lot, but she clearly needed it if she was willing to name her in front of others.

You sighed.

"I'll send someone to get you." You said reluctantly. There was hurt in your voice, Okoye could hear it from across continents, and she nearly shed tears at having to ask something so big of you. So she thanked you, and gave you your sacred 'We'll talk later' signal, before hanging up.

You both started to pack your bags.

Okoye looked at the two other women, who were still waiting for her to explain what exactly your all but clear call was about.

"Get packed." Okoye commanded, too anxious to be nicer in tone.

"Apho siya khona? (Where are we going?) " Nakia asked.

"And who's C'Chowe?" Shuri chimed in.

" I can't answer those questions, but it's safe. I promise." There was no protest .

One 6-hour flight and 2 fully dimmed car rides later, the 3 of them exited into an underground parking area, with spaces that led to a door.

Okoye led the way, using a key that she had been gifted by you years ago to open the door.

Upstairs, there was a fully weaponized house. Spears, swords, guns. You name it.

" This is C'Chowe. The one and only. We should be safe here. It's completely off the grid. "

Okoye led Nakia to one room where she went to call Toussaint and a few others while Shuri looked around the house.

It was nice, clean and fully equipped for battle, so there wasn't much to complain about.

But it felt forbidden. Like it was almost too secret. She didn't even know which country they were in.

"This is Y/n's sacred place. I've already broken one promise today, and I can't risk anything else going wrong, so I can't tell you where we really are. But we're safe and we'll be able to plan our return properly here." Shuri nodded, having learned over the months working with you, how important trust was to you. She knew that you must have had reasons for keeping such a random place secret.

"Intle (It's beautiful.)" She said in response, a silent declaration that she wouldn't ask any questions if she didn't need to.

"She really is." Okoye went to your bedroom, wanting to be close to something of yours for the night.

Shuri woke up in the bedroom downstairs, to the sound of pots being taken out. She got out of bed and went to investigate.

There, she saw you making food while working with your beads on the table.

"Good Morning." She made her presence known.

"Your Majesty, good morning." You smiled and turned to look at her, ushering her to come and sit on the chair next to where your beads sat.

"I have tunnels that can lead us back into Wakanda undetected without opening the border to anyone." Shuri looked at the map of these tunnels, never having heard of them or any other way for people to enter Wakanda other than opening the shield.

Seeing that she wasn't saying anything. You tried to reassure her. "I'm having one of my old underground jets be sent here so we can just rest for the day and go back tomorrow."

Still, Shuri didn't say anything. You began to worry that she might be angry at you for not telling her about this place.

"When did you build this?" Nakia asked, coming down the stairs looking a lot better than the day before.

You looked up at her, not having the right words to answer her so quickly. You decided to check on your food while looking for the best way to tell her.

"I… I built it when I got lost on our first mission together back then. I built a small hut and started storing my weapons here everytime that I would have time after missions iIt eventually turned into this house. I only built the tunnels a few years after though."

You explained, taking plates out so that you could serve everyone the food that you had made.

"You did a really good job." Nakia nodded her head in approval.

"Ndiyabulela (Thank you)." You whispered.

You waited for Okoye to come down for an hour, the two other women eating outside while you waited for her to come out of your room.

You knew that she was there, and you knew that she was awake, so you decided to take the food up with you to talk.

"Ngena (Come in)." Okoye's voice came as you approached the door, having knocked yet, but she had heard you muttering things to yourself in Wakandan.

You entered to see her in casual wear, sitting on the chair by the window. You sat on the chair next to her, handing her her food.

"Greetings-"

" Good Morning-" You both smiled, her smile having hints of guilt wrapped around it.

"I owe you an apology." She started, staring out into the window.

"I would appreciate one, but no need right now. You needed it. "

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you continued.

"I'm just sad that this won't just be our place anymore. I wanted it to be just the two of us and this place in the future, you know."

Okoye scoffed, wanting to kick herself now, hearing you say those kinds of things. It reminded her of the day that she had received your alert of her beads and had used your tunnels to get here, only to see you severely injured.

She had persuaded you to quit right then, not caring that you loved being a war dog. And although you made it seem like it was your decision, she knew that she was the real reason that you quit.

She still couldn't see why you constantly gave up so much for her and yet still wanted her around.

"You sound so confident that you'd still like being around me in the future." She spat out, the venom in your voice directed more towards herself than to you.

"I'll always want to be around you, Okoye."

"But, why? I've been trying to get you to answer that question for years now and you never tell me. Who would like someone like me enough to give up this!?"

"Me, I would. I do. I love you enough to give this up."

Okoye turned to look at you, your eyes connecting while tears formed in both of yours.

"I love you, Okoye. I want to have you in life for the rest of my life, and if that means giving everything up then that's what I'll do."

You stopped yourself from saying more, as the tears forming were getting dangerously close to being full breakdown tears.

"I- I love you too." Okoye said.

"You do?"

"Yes. I want to spend my life with you too. I just don't want you to have to give everything up just for me."

You shifted in your chair, took her hand, and kissed it gently.

"Okoye, giving up everything means nothing to me if I get to have you. I just wish to ask if you'll be mine."

Then, Okoye kissed you and replied.

"The honour would be mine."

The End

And for that split moment, things were finally okay between the two of you.

Author's Note: That was long. 😅 I'm so sorry for creating a whole story for such a simple prompt, I just got a bit carried away. I do hope that you enjoyed though.

Upcoming posts and requests can be monitored on my pinned post

#okoye one shot #okoye #general okoye #okoye x reader #love confessions #black panther2 #black panther #wakanda forever #dora milaje #midnight angels #okoye x fem reader #x reader #x female reader

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lets-curse-each-other · 2 years

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Don't be defeated by DNA

Do you see the title above the door on the frame? A nice one, yeah? So motivational, encouraging, etc., etc. However, it is more interesting how this idea is provided in "Naruto" and "Jujutsu Kaisen". Actually, I do think that this motto is pretty typical among shonen genre, but here I'll focus on Naruto and JJK.

First of all, what do we have in “Naruto”? Season 1 screamed at our faces that EVERYBODY could become whoever they wished, they just needed HAAARD work. And we really believed in those tales, because a season-one Naruto looked like an unexperienced, weak, badly educated, undisciplined orphan, who was labelled and ghettoized by the society, BUT he was so stubborn, persistent, ambitious, painstaking, therefore we were certain – that soulja boy would win. It is still a controversial question among naruto fans whether he actually won something… Nevertheless, the reason why he achieved great results based mostly not on his positive traits of character, but because… um, you know… he had absolutely lucky DNA and inheritance. Oops. The truth is that “THROUGHOUT HEAVEN AND EARTH HE ALONE WAS THE HONOURED ONE” speaking JJK’s language. He possessed the demon that later became (of course) his friend, he was a reincarnation of the god, his father was one of the greatest ninja, Naruto took after his mother’s incredibly gigantic amount of chakra, and so on. Of course, it is obvious that potential and talents aren’t everything, only practicing can lead to results. But I concentrate my thoughts on the idea of “fortunate blood”. And this blood evidently helped Naruto. Kishimoto (mangaka) lobbied the idea of HAAARD work, he did his best and then gave up. The story had nice heroes who were also weak and alongside so inspired by the aim to become strong… Unfortunately, these characters were forgotten, they didn’t reach the target, they became the background for NaruSasu, the two who were “the honoured ones”. Hence the idea that at the beginning was truly noble became fragile with time and faded. I’d say that it even seemed quite hypocritical, but I love “Naruto” with all my heart so you didn’t hear these cruel words.

Secondly, what about "JJK"? While watching anime and reading manga, I couldn’t but feel that Gege was mocking at us. We all know that he openly made references to classics of shonen, but it didn’t mean that he couldn't criticize/add his understanding. Specifically, let’s look at these frames:

The protagonist isn’t able to become the strongest just because he wasn’t born a special one (let’s drop Kenjaku and Itadori’s unclear powers with memory). What is more, Itadori hasn’t won any important battle by himself (there're 182 ch. by now). This situation is relevant to all the sorcerers, like Gege tells us that if you were born weak, you would be, because it’s impossible to get in over your head. DNA plays here a vital role. We don’t expect to see deus ex machina, everything was literally negotiated with a doctor cut the cord. Shamans have their limits. Jujutsu world is clearly divided into “the strong” and “the weak”, “the blessed” and “the non-blessed”. It sounds unfair, disheartening, but realistic at the same time.

Do I like this inverted DNA view in JJK? Its definite concept honestly attracts me, it attaches seriousness to the work, helps us to immerse in the story in the best way and realize characters’ loses and victories. As far as I can see it. IMHO. What do you think?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen manga #jjk manga #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jjk analysis #itadori yuuji #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto uzumaki

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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The upcoming visit of a particular Noble has Merlin on edge;

Gwen has to explain why to an incredulous, soon to be horrified, Arthur.

TW: Physical abuse.

Arthur doesn’t question it when Merlin drops an empty tray moments after he was told of Lord Dunstan’s upcoming visit, he simply rolls his eyes and mutters something about incompetence.

Merlin wordlessly cleans up the mess as Arthur goes on to tell him to make sure the Steward was aware, and to have a servant ready for him.

Merlin’s... subdued, behaviour in the following weeks however, does invite question, but Arthur quickly drops it when Merlin snaps at him. It’s rare that Merlin gets angry (or openly angry), so The King shrugs his shoulders, and stops pushing it.

If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed that all the servants seemed a little muted, not even Gwen was holding the long conversations with him that she usually does. But Arthur was a King, preparing for the visit of a long-standing family friend he hasn’t seen since Uther died.

He had more important things to worry about than the conspiratorial whispering between Merlin, the Steward, and George. So he left it. He figured Merlin was just finally getting in trouble for being a shit servant, and deserved whatever he got.

When the morning of Lord Dunstan’s arrival finally came, Merlin was unusually quiet as he dressed and readied Arthur; but Arthur was so preoccupied by complaining at the small portion of his breakfast, he didn’t notice (or at least didn’t comment on) Merlin’s lack of sarcasm or witty insults.

Just as Arthur finished eating, a knock resounded from the chamber entrance. Arthur frowned in confusion, he wasn’t expecting news of Lord Dunstan’s arrival for another hour or so, but Merlin seemed pleased as he opened the door.

A young servant boy, who Arthur vaguely recognised as being called Tristan, walked in. He seemed nervous, but smiled when Merlin patted him on the shoulder, whispering encouragement that Arthur couldn’t quite hear.

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Merlin when he turned back, but before the King could question him, Merlin spoke:

“This is Tristan, My Lord. He’ll be serving you during the day whilst Lord Dunstan is here. Be nice to him.”

Arthur frowned, sternly saying:

“Well, where will you be? I don’t recall giving you any time off, Merlin.”

Tristan gulped, but Merlin ruffles his hair as he rolls his eyes, before heading towards the door, replying over his shoulder:

“It’s my turn to serve the visiting noble and there’s a few things to sort out before he arrives. The servants have a rota.”

He shuts the door behind him briefly, before opening it and sticking his head back through, giving Arthur a pointed look before repeating:

“Be nice to him.”

The door quickly shuts again, and Arthur sputters indignantly. Tristan cleared his throat slightly before shyly asking:

“Is there anything you require to be done today, My Lord?”

Arthur’s attention is quickly drawn back to the boy, around fourteen summers old, and he fixes him with a confused stare before his brain seems to catch up, and he responds:

“Uh... yes, there’s a... wait, do you.. do you know how to read and write?”

Arthur doesn’t really think about it often, he doesn’t need to, but he was aware that most commoners, even servants working in the castle, didn’t know how to read.

The nerves seem to drain from Tristan’s face as he gives the King a wide smile:

“Yes, Sire. Merlin started teaching me when I first started working here last summer. I’m pretty good at it now, as long as it isn’t too complicated.”

Arthur is taken aback at that. Of course, teaching peasant children to read and write sounds like exactly something Merlin would do, so he’s not sure why he’s surprised.

Arthur nods, returning the boy’s smile with an unsure one of his own:

“Right. There’s a list of chores on the desk. Try to get as many of them done as you can but... uh... ask the Steward or Merlin if you need any help, or if you can’t do something.”

Arthur had no real concept of what commoner boys of Tristan’s age were capable of. When Arthur was fourteen, he could recite the names of every Camelot Noble, and decapitate a training dummy without breaking a sweat, but he knows that’s not... normal... for other children.

Tristan nods enthusiastically, and goes to the desk, picking up the list and reading it with furrowed brows and a bitten lip. Arthur sees the deep concentration on his face and the slow pace of his eyes moving over the page, and makes a mental note to allow Merlin an extra few hours a week, to give more official lessons to the younger servants.

Arthur clears his throat, standing from his place at the table and gesturing at the empty tray in front of him:

“Take this down to the kitchens, then get started on the list. I’ll be working in here until Lord Dunstan arrives, make sure to come and inform me as soon as he approaches the castle, I wish to meet him in the courtyard.”

Tristan’s eyes go wide, and his face loses a bit of colour, but he gives Arthur a smile that’s only slightly shaky as he bows, and slips the list into his pocket:

“Yes, of course My Lord.”

The boy’s miniscule change in disposition doesn’t strike Arthur as odd until the door shuts quietly behind him, leaving The King alone in his chambers.

He hums thoughtfully to himself, everyone seemed to be acting strangely this morning. Though perhaps Merlin, and a boy who was spending a lot of time with Merlin, acting strangely shouldn’t be... surprising, to Arthur.

He shrugs his shoulders slightly and sits at his desk, resigning himself to at least an hour’s worth of boring paperwork.

When Tristan came back around a candle mark later to inform The King that Lord Dunstan’s carriage was approaching the castle gates, he seemed even more nervous and tense than earlier.

Arthur noticed, but payed no mind. He figured the boy was just a little overwhelmed with his duties, and made a mental note to ask Merlin to check in on him, the next time he saw the gangly manservant.

He had no time to do so however: the next time Merlin was in Arthur’s presence, he was unloading Dunstan’s baggage as Arthur greeted the Lord.

The two men clasped arms, wide smiles on their faces as Arthur said:

“Welcome back to Camelot, Lord Dunstan. I hope your journey wasn’t too difficult?”

The man’s smile grew as he shook his head:

“No, not difficult at all, we made good time. It’s an honour to be back, My Lord.”

Arthur nodded in satisfaction, and resisted the urge to frown when he noticed how tense Tristan and Merlin seemed, instead keeping the smile on his face:

“Well, lunch will be served in a candle mark or so. You’ll be seen to by my personal manservant for the duration of your stay-”

Arthur gestures loosely at Merlin, who doesn’t react at all as he quietly informs George and one other servant to take Dunstan’s belongings up to the chambers he would be staying in. As the two of them ascend the castle steps, bags in hand, Merlin moves to stand behind the Lord, giving George a knowing look before focusing his gaze on the floor, jaw tense and face blank.

Arthur doesn’t manage to avoid frowning at Merlin’s odd behaviour this time, but covers it quickly before continuing:

“-let him get you settled and then you can join me for a meal in the dining hall. If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask him.”

Dunstan looks to a still non-reactionary Merlin, and Arthur takes advantage of his distraction to glance at Tristan, whom he had noticed take a subtle gasp at Arthur’s words. He frowns slightly at the boy’s apprehensive face and strained posture, but looks back as Lord Dunstan drops a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

Arthur can see the bob of Merlin’s throat as he swallows and winces slightly, but stays otherwise still. The King doesn’t have time to think about it before Dunstan joyously exclaims:

“Yes, I remember him from last time. I will take full advantage of your hospitality, My Lord.”

Arthur returns his smile, and gestures to the castle entrance, Merlin’s odd demeanour immediately forgotten. Dunstan removes the hand from Merlin’s shoulder, and the two of them follow Arthur through the large doors.

They separate in the corridor, Merlin stiffly leading the Lord to the guest chambers, and Arthur and Tristan heading back up to The King’s chambers.

Both of them enter the room, Tristan standing still and tense, expression drawn and concerned as he makes a point of staring at the floor submissively.

Arthur frowns in confusion, trying not to sound accusing as he asks:

“How are you getting on with the list?”

Tristan replies in an even voice, obviously making an effort to sound blank as he keeps his gaze on the floor:

“I’ve crossed off the first three tasks. Is there anything specific you require now, or would you like me to continue with the chores, My Lord?”

Arthur’s eyes widen and he smiles:

“Three? In one hour? That’s brilliant. No I don’t need anything, keep going with the list-”

Tristan bows, still not making eye contact, and wordlessly goes to leave, but Arthur calls him back:

“Wait! What’s gotten you so tense all of a sudden? Speak freely, you won’t be punished or anything, is there a problem somewhere?”

Tristan tenses even further, and turns around with wide eyes. He shakes his head roughly:

“No Sire, no problem.”

Arthur frowns and furrows his eyebrows, but before he can reply, a frantic knocking comes from the door. Before Arthur can ask who it is, the door bursts in harshly and Gwen rushes in, looking panicked:

“Merlin?!-”

Her eyes land on an awfully confused Arthur and she bows very briefly before hurriedly saying:

“-I apologise for the intrusion, My Lord, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Mer-”

Her frenetic gaze lands on Tristan, and she lets out a breath before rushing over to him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek. She tilts his head carefully, as if looking for something on his face as she says:

“-Oh, Tristan thank the Gods. Matron just told me that you had been assigned to Lord Dunstan. You haven’t been hurt have you?”

Tristan smiles nervously and takes Gwen’s hand from his face as he shakes his head softly.

Arthur looks on in unconcealed bewilderment as the boy quietly replies:

“No. Merlin swapped with me. He’s with the Lord now, and I’m serving His Majesty. I told him I could handle it, but he and George insisted.”

Gwen’s jaw tensed slightly as she shook her head:

“Hmm. You’re not even of age yet Tristan, we won’t let you-”

She looks up nervously at Arthur, seeming to only just remember that The King was in the room with them. She gulps slightly, before plastering a smile on her face and looking back down to the boy:

“-why don’t you run along and finish your chores. I can deal with anything His Majesty needs right now. And stay out of our guest’s way.”

Tristan tilts his head in question, but at Gwen’s slight nod he turns and bows to Arthur, before leaving the room. Gwen watches him go with a concerned frown on her face, but her attention is quickly caught by Arthur again as he suddenly exclaims:

“Right, are you going to tell me what that was about? Why did you think he had been hurt? And Merlin told me it was his turn to serve the visiting noble?”

Gwen looks back to him nervously:

“It’s nothing, My Lord. Do you require anything?”

Arthur scoffs disbelievingly, looking annoyed as he retorts:

“Yes. I require that you answer my questions.”

Gwen frowns again, looking desperately worried as she replies:

“Really, Sire, it’s not anything you should have to concern yourself-”

Arthur holds a hand up, his face morphing from annoyed to worried as he interrupts her:

“Colour me concerned. Speak freely, Guinevere. What’s going on? You, Merlin, and Tristan have been acting noticeably odd all day, and it isn’t even noon yet.”

Gwen gulps, before seeming to sag slightly in resignation. She lets out a breath and looks to the floor as she quietly replies:

“The servants look out for one another, Sire. George is the best servant, gets things done the quickest, but Merlin can... Merlin is the best at taking hits, better than all of us. So whenever a noble is particularly... demanding, they tend to work together, to keep the younger or more inexperienced servants out of harm’s way.”

Arthur’s expression morphs once again, this time to one of puzzlement, and Gwen looks up at him apprehensively as he replies:

“What do you mean, “taking hits”, and since when has Merlin worked with George?”

Gwen tilts her head, before slowly replying:

“I... I don’t really know what to say, My Lord. Whenever a noble is aggressive, George will do his best to make sure everything’s perfect, and Merlin will stop the noble taking an interest in any of the other servants; he’ll take the hits. Lord Dunstan has a- you said I could speak freely, My Lord? I know Lord Dunstan is a friend of yours-”

Arthur nods firmly, muttering an “of course”, starting to realise with numb horror what Gwen might be talking about:

“-well, Lord Dunstan is always rather... violent, with the serving staff, especially the younger ones, so whenever he visits, Merlin takes over serving him, and the rest of us try to keep out of his way, and patch Merlin up at the end of the day.”

Arthur looks shocked, and Gwen frowns as he collapses back into one of the chairs at the table. She slowly walks over, sitting opposite him. When Arthur stays silent, seemingly staring into the distance, Gwen clears her throat and speaks up quietly:

“Surely you knew, My Lord? That we get hit?”

Arthur looks at her in shock, shaking his head incredulously before replying:

“No! No, I didn’t know. Why has no one said anything?”

Gwen tenses her jaw, suddenly looking like she’s trying to control her anger, before she replies harshly, but still quietly:

“What would you have us say, Sire? We’re just servants. Nobles can do whatever they want to us without punishment. And even if abuse of the staff was illegal, who would believe the word of a servant over that of a Noble? Like I said My Lord, we look out for each other. None of us like it, but Merlin is the best at working through injury, so he always takes the violent ones whilst the rest of us do his other duties for him.”

Arthur slumps back in his seat, thinking for a moment whilst Gwen stares at him with an odd mix of anger and pity.

He speaks up again after a few minutes, barely audible:

“Merlin takes the violent ones...”

Gwen nods sympathetically, before replying in a quietly disbelieving tone:

“Yes. Do you actually believe Merlin every time he says he fell down the stairs, or ran into a door, or something else equally stupid and clumsy??-”

Arthur nods wordlessly and Gwen sighs:

“-He disappears for hours at a time, and comes back with all those bruises and injuries because he takes over someone else’s... difficult assignment. We used to try and take turns, and still do very occasionally, when Merlin can’t, but he usually insists. He can take beatings that no one else can; he can somehow work with a fractured jaw and a concussion and all manner of other injuries, children who are barely fourteen summers old can’t.-”

Gwen sighs once again, and Arthur looks up at her in shock as she stares at the table and sniffles slightly, tears filling her eyes as she quietly continues:

“-He’s always been stupidly proud of his ability to work after being thoroughly smacked around, AND hide it from you, but it worries me. One day he’s going to take a hit he can’t get up from.”

Arthur gains his ability to speak again, muttering in a horrified tone:

“Gods. I had no idea. I mean I knew a few of the Lords were a little handsy occasionally, but I put a stop to it when I see it. I didn’t think it was this... widespread.”

Gwen tilts her head, catching Arthur’s eyes. They meet each other’s gaze as Arthur quietly asks:

“Does anyone else know?”

Gwen gives him a weak smile and gulps before she replies, equally quietly:

“Gaius knows. After the first time we had to carry Merlin back to him to get patched up, we started warning him when anyone particularly... violent, was around, so he could prepare.-”

Arthur flinches and looks away slightly at that, the image of other servants having to carry a beaten and bloody Merlin back to Gaius replaying over and over in his head.

Gwen takes his hand sympathetically as she continues:

“-A few of the Roundtable Knights look out for us. We try to keep Gwaine and Elyan away from it because they just get angry and accusing and of course the servants face the repercussions for that later. Leon, Percival, and Lancelot are pretty good at distracting them, so we can escape, but it doesn’t work long-term. Sometimes the Nobles are less willing to be violent in front of others, so some of the guards hang around wherever possible, to keep an eye on us, but they can’t do that all of the time. They do what they can, when they can.”

Arthur nods mutely and Gwen stares at him as he gathers his thoughts. He straightens his back and takes in a deep breath before looking Gwen in the eyes, and firmly asking:

“How bad is Dunstan? Compared to others?”

Gwen winces, glancing away briefly before looking back to Arthur’s determined face:

“He’s... one of the worse ones. Last time he was here, he gave the first servant a broken nose and a concussion, and when Merlin took over, he bruised four ribs, fractured his wrist and collarbone, and ended up with permanent scars all up one of his arms.”

Arthur let out a breath and cursed:

“How did I not notice that? Or did I just take some stupid excuse at face value, again?”

Gwen pursed her lips, replying softly:

“Everything was bandaged up under clothing, and there were no visible bruises. Merlin is... skilled, at hiding his pain. You couldn’t have known.”

Arthur stands suddenly and begins pacing. He huffs before turning back to Gwen, ranting slightly:

“This is unacceptable. This is ridiculous. I want a list. Of all the violent ones, all the even mildly aggressive ones. Nobles, Knights, hell, even royalty, I don’t care. I want to know the names of everyone who thinks it’s acceptable to beat my staff.”

Gwen smiles sadly, and joins him in standing, but shakes her head slightly:

“It’s not that simple, that would be a very long list, Sire. I can think of maybe ten nobles who have never laid a hand on any of us, and one of them is Leon.”

Arthur goes pale and deflates, tears coming to his eyes as he whispers:

“Would... would I be on that list? I’ve thrown things at Merlin before but I didn’t... I never wanted to to hurt him, I never meant to be violent.”

Gwen steps forward and puts her hands on Arthur’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile as she says:

“Arthur, you throw pillows at Merlin when he calls you fat. You definitely wouldn’t be on the list. Merlin put Tristan with you because he knew that was the safest place for him to be whilst Dunstan was here.”

Arthur relaxes and nods slightly at her words, but still looks troubled. He looks up at her after a few moments:

“How long until lunch? Merlin will be with Dunstan until then.”

Gwen grimaces:

“Another half a candle-mark, Sire.”

Arthur huffs again, but begins walking towards the door purposefully, Gwen trailing after him worriedly:

“We’re going to pay him a surprise visit. I can hardly make an announcement, or accuse him with no proof, but if I catch him in the act...”

They both hurry down the corridor, Gwen rushing to catch up after the shut the door behind her. She can tell that Arthur feels guilty, but he was right in his assessment: the only way he could do anything about it is if he walked in on his manservant (and best friend and possibly love of his life) being beaten. And that’s not exactly something one wants to see.

They finally reach the hall that Lord Dunstan’s chambers were in, to see George approaching from the other end of the corridor. The servant’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of them, but he covers it quickly, moving to stand in front of Dunstan’s door, water pitcher clutched tightly in his hands. He bows at the King, and glances nervously at Gwen before saying:

“Is there anything I can help you with, My Lord?”

Arthur sees the way he’s stood in front of the door defensively, and whilst it frustrates him slightly that his servants think him incapable of protecting them, he understands. Apparently, this had been happening forever, and they all thought he knew and just didn’t care.

Gwen speaks up, quietly so they can’t be heard through the door, before The King can reply:

“It’s alright George, he’s here to help. How was Merlin last time you saw him?”

George goes a little pale, wincing slightly as he looks to Gwen at Arthur’s side:

“He was... alright. A few bruises, but nothing serious.-”

He tacks on a quick “-My Lord.” as he looks back to Arthur.

Arthur’s face goes red and he looks furious, Gwen has to tug his sleeve to stop him from shouting as he angrily whispers:

“A few bruises?? He’s only been here for half a candle mark!”

George gulps, and looks to Gwen for support. She pulls Arthur around to look at him, and the barely concealed devastation in her expression drains the anger from Arthur’s face:

“I told you, Dunstan is one of the worse-”

She gets interrupted by a muffled thump coming from the room behind George, and Arthur’s gaze whips to the door. George flinches slightly at the noise, biting his lip as he looks to the floor, as if trying to block the sound out. Gwen clamps a hand over he mouth, tears filling her eyes as they vaguely hear someone yelling in anger.

Arthur hesitates for only a moment in his shock, before pushing behind George and ripping the door open.

He stalks quickly into the room, Gwen and George on his heels as his gaze is immediately drawn to Dunstan drawing his fist back for the second blow.

Arthur is completely taken aback by the sight in front of him. Merlin was straightening up, recovering from the first hit, turning to look Lord Dunstan in the eyes with a blank expression. The Lord hadn’t noticed the other three enter the room, and Arthur has no time to yell before Merlin’s face is struck once again.

His head rocks to the side violently, and Arthur can see the spray of blood coming for the cut that Dunstan’s ring had left. Merlin takes a stumbled step back, but only looks to the side for a moment before taking a deep breath and, like before, returning to his original position with a blank look on his face.

Merlin notices Arthur, Gwen, and George over Dunstan’s shoulder, and his eyes go wide, but before he can say anything, or Gods forbid be hit again, Arthur speaks up.

His voice is low, and angry, but he just about manages to keep himself from attacking the Lord whilst his back is turned:

“What is the meaning of this?”

The Lord turns quickly, shaking his hand slightly to rid his knuckles of pain. Arthur has to resist the urge to launch himself at the man when he gives him a wide smile, as if he hadn’t a care in the world:

“Ah, King Arthur! I wasn’t expecting to see you until lunch. What can I help you with?”

Arthur’s jaw tenses as he glances quickly at Merlin’s bleeding cheek, before looking to Gwen and nodding in Merlin’s direction. Gwen takes the prompt with no hesitancy, moving quickly around the Lord to stand at Merlin’s side.

She tries to reach up to check his face, but Merlin gives her a short, reassuring smile before waving her off and fixing Arthur with a questioning stare.

Arthur ignores him, knowing that if he looks at him any longer he’ll fly in to a rage; choosing instead to direct a harsh gaze at Dunstan, who still has an innocent grin on his face:

“You can help, by explaining why on Gods Earth you thought it appropriate to lay hands upon a member of my staff.”

Dunstan looks a little confused, but doesn’t drop the smile entirely. He glances back at Merlin absent-mindedly before looking to The King once more:

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with-”

Arthur’s hands clench at his choice of words:

“-there was simply a mix up that required punishment.”

Arthur bristled, and took a menacing step towards the Lord, who at least had the decency to look a little self-conscious at the movement:

“No mistake that isn’t worth concerning myself with, warrants the physical beating of my employees. If you have any problems with the service, you are to bring it up to the Steward, or me directly. You are NOT to take it upon yourself to dole out punishment, am I understood?”

Arthur resists the urge to look at Merlin when he takes in a shocked breath, keeping his vicious gaze focused on Dunstan. The man sputters slightly, going red in the face as he rather indignantly retorts:

“Well, you’ve never had a problem with it before, Sire.”

Arthur takes a fortifying breath clenching his hands tighter as he grinds out:

“So you admit to physically abusing my staff?-”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns to Gwen:

“-Take Merlin to see the Court Physician,-”

He then looks to George behind him:

“-Inform the Kitchen, the Housekeeper, and the Steward, that Lord Dunstan will not being staying with us after all.”

Gwen takes Merlin by the arm, dragging him to the entrance despite his protests. George gives Arthur a brief bow, before rushing out the door behind them, leaving the furious King alone with the red-faced Lord.

Arthur turns back to look at him once again:

“I was, until recently, unaware of this ongoing problem. The people who work in this castle are under my protection, and they are not to be harmed under any circumstances. Until you can refrain from beating my staff, you are no longer welcome in my Kingdom. I want you out of the city by noon. I will be sending guards to help you find your way out.”

Without waiting for a response, Arthur turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, before he strides quickly out of the castle and down to the training grounds. He gestures Leon and Percival over, and the confused knights rush to his side, Leon asking what’s wrong.

Arthur tenses his jaw slightly before quietly saying:

“Have Elyan take over training. I want you and Percival to go and supervise Lord Dunstan pack his things, and make sure he makes it out of the city before noon. I want him gone.”

Leon widens his eyes slightly, but covers it quickly. Percival is not so quick, looking concerned as he asks.

“Is Merlin alright??”

Arthur sighs, a little upset that his most loyal knights were aware of the situation and he wasn’t, but he covers it well, looking to the floor briefly:

“It could’ve been a lot worse. Gwen took him to Gaius, I’m going there now.”

The two knights nod at his response, before rushing back to the other knights. Arthur doesn’t bother to hang around as Leon talks to Elyan, choosing instead to head straight in the direction of the Physician’s Chambers.

Servants, guards, and Nobles alike jump out of his way in the corridor. Whether news has spread of Lord Dunstan’s essential banishment, or the angry look on his face scared them, Arthur didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, he payed it no attention, focussing only on the quickest route to Gaius’s chambers.

He meets George at the door, and the normally uptight servant gives him only a shallow bow before shakily saying:

“The kitchen and heads of staff have been informed, My Lord-”

He glances nervously to the door, before looking back to The King and continuing:

“-Is there anything else you require?”

Arthur immediately picks up on George’s desire to see if Merlin was alright, and shakes his head:

“Come in and help Gaius with anything he requires. After, I’d like you to find Tristan and see if he’s alright, he seemed a little shaken earlier.”

George nods very slightly, grateful, understanding that The King had just given him an excuse to check on Merlin before he had to continue with other jobs.

Arthur gives him a strained smile before entering the chambers without knocking, George hot on his heels. The servant shuts the door behind them, and they see Merlin sat on the table looking put out, whilst Gwen insists on holding his hand and Gaius bustles around.

The three of them look over when the door is opened, Gaius giving them barely a glance before going back to flitting about, Gwen giving them a small smile before looking back to Merlin, and Merlin nodding briefly at George before settling yet another questioning gaze on The King.

George stays in place by the door, his concern well-hidden as he stares at Merlin. Arthur takes a few more steps towards his confused manservant, clearing his throat before saying:

“Lord Dunstan will be gone by noon. I told him not to come back until he could refrain from hitting my staff.”

Gwen gives him a grateful smile, and Arthur hears George let out a relieved breath from behind him, but Merlin just tilts his head in confusion:

“I don’t know why everyone’s making such a fuss. I’ve definitely had worse, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

Gwen groans and gently smacks him on the arm, muttering:

“That’s not the point, Merlin.”

George huffs quietly, before saying, louder than Gwen:

“Guinevere is right Merlin. Gaius, do you require any assistance?”

At Gaius’s casual wave of denial, George turns to Arthur, giving him his normal deep bow before glancing at Merlin once more as he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

Arthur was taken aback at Merlin’s casual reply, and when Gwen notices the pained shock on his face, she pats Merlin’s hand softly before whispering:

“It’s not ok, Merlin. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Merlin gives her an incredulous look, but before he can retort, she’s gone from the room. That woman can move quickly when she wants to, but Arthur hardly notices as he continues to stare at the cut on Merlin’s cheek.

Gaius finally finds what he’s looking for and rushes over to Merlin, tilting his head so he can look at the cut properly, and cleaning it with a strong smelling alcohol as the younger man winces.

Gaius speaks slowly as he works, and Arthur moves closer, to stand next to him:

“Hmm. You’re lucky you didn’t fracture your cheekbone. There’s no concussion either, just make sure to keep this clean, my boy.”

Merlin goes to nod, but stops with a smile and roll of the eyes as Gaius huffs at the movement.

Arthur waits patiently, but gives Gaius a pointed look when he finishes. The aging physician gives him the patented eyebrow raise, before leaving the room without a word. Merlin ignores Arthur, watching Gaius walk out with a frown on his face and a muttered:

“Where’s he going?”

Arthur shakes his head, putting a forceful hand on Merlin’s shoulder when he goes to stand up. The manservant flinches away and Arthur retracts his hand quickly, as if he’d been burned.

Gods. That had happened in front of Arthur. He’d seen it, and shrugged it off, like Merlin’s pain was nothing. No wonder none of his staff came to him.

Merlin gets the idea nonetheless, and stays seated, furrowing his eyebrows:

“Why’d you make Dunstan leave? It’s only me he’s hit, people have done way worse.”

Arthur takes in a harsh breath, planting his feet to stop himself from pacing as he shakes his head:

“I didn’t know, Merlin. Gods, if I’d known that my staff were getting beaten I would’ve done something earlier.-”

He looks up, and Merlin is slightly taken aback by the desperation in his eyes:

“-I swear, I had no idea.”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, talking slowly, as if to a child:

“But you... accepted all my excuses? I thought that was our way of acknowledging that it was happening and that we couldn’t do anything about it?”

Arthur exhales forcefully, but fails to stop himself from pacing this time. Merlin’s eyes follow him up and down the room as he speaks quickly:

“No! I really just thought you were that clumsy! Gods above Merlin, why didn’t you just tell me? The staff are under my protection, you should NOT have to volunteer to take violent masters just to protect the younger ones. No one should! There should be no violent masters in the first place!”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes as he replies:

“I’ve had worse, Arthur. And besides, this has always happened, it’s the way of things. The rich and noble get to do whatever they want to the... not-so rich and noble.”

Arthur turns to him in shock, upset that Merlin seems to have no problem with regularly being beaten for no reason:

“Merlin! That shouldn’t be the way of things.-”

Arthur takes a step towards him, and puts a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder. Merlin’s eyes soften at the touch, and The King takes a deep breath before continuing:

“-And it stops now. If anyone, and I mean anyone, is violent or needlessly aggressive with the staff, I want to be informed immediately, no matter what. Even if you have to walk out on your duties or interrupt a meeting, I don’t care.”

Merlin shakes his head, laughing slightly, much to Arthur’s confusion:

“I don’t see what the big deal is?! No one but me gets hurt anyway, and it’s not like telling you will make them stop. I’m perfectly capable of filling in for the others, I have a high pain tolerance-”

He nudges the cut on his cheek slightly with a finger:

“-I can’t even feel it, see?”

Arthur growls slightly, slapping away Merlin’s hand before roughly saying:

“It is a big deal Merlin. You shouldn’t have to fill in for the others, because they shouldn’t need protecting from their own masters in the first place!-”

The anger drains out of Arthur suddenly and he sags, before looking up to Merlin with unconcealed sorrow on his face, and continuing in a shaky voice:

“-Just because you can take it, doesn’t mean you should have to. I’m not questioning your strength or stupid pain tolerance here Merlin, I’m trying to help. Frankly, I don’t want to trust the safety and well-being of my subjects to men who beat them just because they can anyway. Will you please just accept that I don’t like seeing you, or any of my other staff, in pain, and do what I ask for once?”

Merlin tilts his head, as if still struggling with the idea that this shouldn’t be happening, but at Arthur’s pleading eyes, he sighs and nods, before speaking quietly:

“Alright, fine. But if you put me in the stocks for accusing one of your Nobles of being an arsehole in front of the council, then I’m going to be pissed-”

Arthur shakes his head roughly, responding with conviction:

“I wouldn’t.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow in amusement, before shrugging his shoulders slightly. His eyes harden, and he takes a deep breath before saying, in a voice that invites no argument:

“But I won’t ever stop protecting the others. I’ll always volunteer to serve the aggressive ones, and if you try to stop me, I’ll do that thing you hate where I completely disobey your orders.”

Arthur lets out a gentle laugh, shaking his head slightly:

“I wouldn’t expect you to anyway.-”

The King looks back up at his manservant, an assessing look in his eye as he says:

“-It seems that you’re quite... paternal, when it comes to the younger servants; protecting them from violence to your own detriment,-”

He raises his eyebrow slightly as he continues:

“-teaching them to read and write?”

Merlin blushes slightly and looks down, mumbling:

“I was lucky in Ealdor, my mum taught me the basics; I wasn’t very good, but Gaius helped me when I got to Camelot.-”

He shrugs slightly before continuing, still refusing to look up at the man in front of him:

“-I just think everyone deserves a chance, so I teach them when I’ve got time.-”

He does look up now, smirking slightly as he says:

“-a good thing I learnt as well, otherwise who would proof read and improve your God awful speeches?”

Arthur looks indignant and offended for all of two seconds before he laughs and nods his head reluctantly:

“You have a point. You know, if you want some time in the week to give properly structured lessons, I could figure something out. I’m sure we can find an empty room in the castle for you to use, and the crown will pay for anything you need.”

Merlin brightens noticeably, a wide smile on his face as he rushes to say:

“Really?! That would be great, I know they really want to learn but it’s difficult when I only have an hour here and there, especially when they all have jobs to do as well.”

Arthur laughs gently as he nods his head, deciding that it’s a little ridiculous, how desperate he is to keep that smile on Merlin’s face for as long as possible:

“Of course. We can discuss it with the Steward, but how about... a morning one day, and an afternoon another day? You can split the group into two, that means the castle isn’t missing too many staff at once.”

Merlin nods, not dropping the enthusiastic smile once, and Arthur chuckles fondly.

Yes, Arthur thinks, yes, that smile, for as long as possible.

THE END!

Maybe it’s a tad anti-climactic, but some fluff is just like that I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Same as always, if you wanna write it out properly, go for it! Credit and tag me ✌

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular:)

599 notes · View notes

sserpente · 3 years

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A/N: Request from @wrenstrange! Put up the decorations, it’s finally time again! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1957 Warnings: pure fluff, blood sample/needle/syringe, soft!Loki, fatique, fainting

You dropped like a piece of wood right about when you were making yourself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Knees ceasing to support you any longer, vision darkening, stars dancing around you making you dizzy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and before you knew it, your body finally won and shut down.

Although if you could have chosen, you would not have fallen straight into Loki’s arms whose reflexes caught you, preventing you from hitting the hard floor beneath you. He cradled you with his brows furrowed, his blue gaze almost helpless as he looked at Thor and Stark for support.

Then, everything went black.

“Welcome back.” You blinked, the artificial lights above your head blinding you. A hand held you down when you attempted to sit up drowsily. Bruce was leaning against a metal table in Tony’s lab, hands crossed before his chest and with a concerned expression on his face. “You blacked out,” he explained, “out of the blue.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony added.

You only realised then that it was Loki who had held you down. He was sitting on a chair right next to the makeshift bed they had carried into Tony’s lab and he was observing you with Argus eyes. Your heart sped up when you noticed. You usually tended to avoid the God of Mischief at all cost. There was a part of you that was afraid of him after watching him making an entire crowd kneel in Stuttgart, the other was hands down swooning over him. It had all started when he had rescued a cat from a tree, honouring a cliché he had not even been aware of. But someone who helped defenceless little kittens had to have a soft heart deep down, no?

Thor had brought him to Earth along with him after Asgard had been destroyed. He could not exactly be considered an Avenger but he had long surpassed the villain image… at least, to some extent. Well, you were no Avenger either. You used to be a SHIELD intern and then somehow ended up with the superheroes themselves. Apart from some basic fighting skills and the ability to use a gun, you had been trained to spend most of your time in front of a computer, often working twelve hours or even more a day. What did they say? Evil never sleeps.

“Any idea what might have caused this?” Bruce continued.

You shook your head. “No. But I’ve been having migraines and a persistent fatigue that just won’t go away.”

“I see… anything else?”

“Um…”

“You can talk to us, (Y/N).”

“Well, I… I’ve been dizzy a lot lately but that sometimes happens during my special week of the month so I didn’t think anything of it.” You took a deep breath but hesitated.

“And?”

“I’ve been sweating way more when working out. Like, a lot more. Instead of making progress… I feel like I’m getting weaker every day. It’s frustrating.”

“Uh-huh. I’m taking a blood sample. FRIDAY will run a couple of tests on you to figure out what’s wrong.”

“What? No! Nothing’s wrong! We don’t need a b-blood sample.”

“No one faints for no reason, (Y/N), especially not on Loki.” Loki rolled his eyes but did not leave your side, even when Bruce started fiddling around with some gear and apparently, a first-aid kit and then approached you with a syringe and a small clear vial.

“I’ve done this a million times before, I’ll be gentle.”

“No! No, no blood test, Bruce, please!” Almost hysterically, you moved back on the bed, your heart in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” Loki suddenly said calmly. You shivered when he spoke your name, his head tilted slightly. “Are you afraid of needles?”

“N-n-no…” You lied. Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Look at me.” He said. Hesitating only a little, you did as you were told. It wasn’t like his tone allowed any contradiction anyway. In fact, it reminded you a lot of his strict and bossy tone when he had caused chaos in Germany. “It has to be done. Hold my hand and do not take your eyes off of me.”

“Who are you and what you have done to Reindeer Games?” Tony tossed in, throwing the Trickster a suspicious glance. Loki rolled his eyes once more. As if he had any obligation to explain himself to Stark of all people.

In the meantime, you were panicking even more. Loki was being nice and considerate with you and Bruce was about to pierce your skin with a needle. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… your breathing sped up.

“Look. At. Me.” Loki repeated. You obeyed this time, allowing him to take your hand and press it gently. Much to your surprise, it immediately calmed you down a little. You gaped at him unbelievingly. You didn’t even feel the needle going into your skin and drawing blood. Wait… was he casting a spell on you?

“There. All done.” You could not bring yourself to look where Bruce brought your blood sample but when both Tony and he stepped away and turned their backs on you, you swallowed.

“T-thank you…” You had to ask—not because you did not think he was not capable of offering his help without seeking a personal advantage and not because you didn’t think he was too evil to even think about being selfless… but because you were genuinely curious about his motivation. Loki did nothing without a reason, he was always one step ahead. “You put a spell on me, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Why… why did you do that for me?”

“We are all afraid of something.” It was the only response he gave you. For a few moments, you merely sat there quietly, neither of you uttering a single word. Only when Bruce and Tony returned did you realise that Loki was still holding your hand.

“Okay… I’ve got the results from your blood test and FRIDAY couldn’t find anything suspicious.” Tony announced, scrolling on his tablet. Bruce adjusted his glasses to take a peek.

“You said you’ve been feeling tired? You sweat a lot, you get dizzy, and I’m presuming you barely have an appetite?”

“I don’t have time to eat a lot to be honest…” You confirmed.

“Any concentration problems?”

Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you thought about it for a moment. Now that he mentioned it… it had gotten obnoxiously hard to focus on your work lately. Eventually, you nodded.

“Sounds like severe exhaustion to me.” Bruce said. “Do you have issues with low blood pressure or diabetes or any other medical condition? No, FRIDAY would have found something like that. You know what I think? You overworked yourself.”

“Like… a burnout?” You probed.

“Most definitely.”

You grunted. Oh, that was just great. There you were, attempting to squeeze in regular workouts in this awesome training hall the Avengers called the HARM room after work to get stronger and hence, eventually gather up the courage to speak to Loki and now you looked exactly like what you did not want him to see you as—a weak and meagre human.

“The best medicine would be for you to quit work for a while and stop physical exercise altogether.”

“Banner is right,” Tony added. “Take a few weeks off and rest, sleep in, eat more and healthy… the whole program. I officially give you a holiday.”

“You’re not my boss, Tony, you can’t give me a holiday.” Your smile was weak. “But I don’t have time for this anyway! I can’t believe this is happening so soon before Christmas!” You whined. “I can’t stay in bed, I’ve got so much to do! I have to buy presents and decorate and bake biscuits and make gingerbread… Besides, I’m gonna fall behind on all the data.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take care of that. Let me talk to Fury. You let us know if you need anything. Can you take her to her room, Reindeer Games? And please, no funny business.” Beside you, Loki was just frowning, utterly ignoring the billionaire’s request.

“Why were you pushing yourself so hard?” He finally spoke when the two Avengers had left—whether it was genuine confusion or mere curiosity in his voice, you were not sure. “Why were you training for battle in the first place? I have never seen you out on a mission.”

You sighed. Time to let the cat out of the bag, it wasn’t like you were still going to make a good impression on him anymore now.

“I wanted to impress you, I guess…”

“Impress me?” Loki repeated incredulously.

“Yeah… catch your attention… in a way. I mean, part of me is still terrified of you, of course but… you have a good heart, Loki. I knew when I saw you rescuing that cat from the tree.”

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. “I knew this was going to damage my reputation.” He responded with a sly smirk, making you grin. “It was an innocent kitten, what was I supposed to do?”

“See?”

Your heart skipped a beat when his blue eyes locked with yours. He appeared… uncertain; not used to dealing with affection. Loki swallowed.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure…”

The God of Mischief sighed, his lips pressed together to a thin line. Without any hesitation, he snuck one of his arms under your knees and wrapped the other around your waist. He lifted you off the makeshift bed as if you weighed nothing—and to him, you probably didn’t.

Loki carried you to your room in utter silence and eventually lay you down in your bed. Your heart jumped when he sat down on the edge of the bed himself, with a peculiar interest in his hands so he would not have to look you in the eye.

“There is no need to impress me.” He suddenly said. Your head shot up. “I did not think anyone would even… never mind.”

Oh. It almost felt like you were finally getting to know each other, for real this time.

“Do you want to stay for a while? I was going to watch some Christmas movies if I’m not allowed to get out of bed.” You sighed. “I can’t even decorate. You have no idea how many decorations I have to put up. None of the others care to make it a little more festive here, especially not Fury.”

“Yes, I have seen the boxes.” Loki replied. “It’s a little… corny, wouldn’t you say?”

“Honestly, when living among superheroes who risk their lives every single day, you could use a little corny.”

“I see.” Loki simply waved his hand and before you knew it, your entire room was decorated. Green and red tinsel shimmered on your window sill, holiday lights were blinking above your door and fake—but incredibly real-looking—snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Many of your favourite decoration items were now sitting on your nightstand and your desk, including your tiny little Christmas tree. The rest of the decorations, so it seemed, Loki must have spread all over the Tower.

“Oh my Goodness… Loki, this is amazing!” The God of Mischief winked and when you looked down on yourself, you noticed you too were wearing a green and gold Christmas sweater. Heavens, you could kiss him. “Thank you so much! What did you… is the entire Tower…”

“Yes.” He confirmed. He didn’t have to. Tony did only a fraction of a second later.

“Thor! Can you tell me why my Ironman helmet just grew metal antlers? I swear to God, if Reindeer Games has something to do with this…” It was then you exploded with laughter despite your exhaustion.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

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bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could.

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it.

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding.

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted.

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you.

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun.

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal.

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy.

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you.

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour.

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care.

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time.

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy.

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart.

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use.

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time.

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean.

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart.

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream.

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction.

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself.

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted.

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become.

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective.

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up.

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight.

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close.

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue.

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it.

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh.

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint.

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently.

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go.

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high.

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em.

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you.

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.”

“Want a taste?”

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care.

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air.

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners.

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more.

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate.

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him.

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways.

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole.

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name.

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God?

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed.

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed.

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in.

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?”

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out—

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection.

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together.

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him.

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose.

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl.

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies.

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first?

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red.

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm.

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char.

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you.

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there.

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore, can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it?

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart.

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth?

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?”

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really.

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda.

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best.

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him.

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy.

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

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umiarumi · 3 years

Text

fucking three houses | ignatz victor

in the wise words of cupcakke, slurp that dick til it cum (smack my ass like a drum)

You skidded backwards as Byleth landed the finishing blow to your side. Stumbling, you let out a defeated huff and dropped your training sword, stretching your arms.

"Jeez teach, even after five years comatose, you still best me in sword-fighting. And that's meant to be my thing!" You guffawed, heavily breathing in between words. You outstretched a gloved hand to your teacher, meeting his blank stare.

"It's mine too." He said, shaking your own hand. You deadpanned before bursting into laughter again.

"You'd be right on that one, teach!" You shook your head, continuing to grin at him, retracting your hand and letting it rest on your hip.

"Your reflexes have sharpened, and your footwork is impressive. You've trained well." He complimented, at which you felt your cheeks darken.

"Ah, thanks! Any constructive criticism?" You hummed, placing the sword back into the pile.

"Yes, you need to put more strength into your strikes." He explained, replacing his own.

You nodded gratefully, looking up to the sky. The sun started to set, a few spotty clouds resting above the two of you.

"I'm turning in for the day, (Y/N). I will be in my personal quarters if you need me." He bid you goodbye before strutting off like usual. As simple as the guy was, he had this odd charm.

"Guess I'll turn in too then... nothing wrong with a stroll around the monastery!" You cheered to yourself. You wiped your sweating face with the sleeve of your top before sauntering off.

~~~~

As you walked alongside the grassy plains of the monastery outskirts, you spotted a small green figure crouching in the distance. You could barely spot them among all the spurts of long grass decorating the land. You walked slowly as to avoid startling them, squinting to see what the hell it was they were doing. On further examination, you recognised that choppy, blonde head of hair.

Continuing to saunter to his destination, you soon picked out exactly what it was he was doing. Painting! You two had talked about your secret hobbies, your own being reading. You smiled at the thought, remembering how shocked each of you was to each other's hobby. You thought you had a pretty strong bond with Ignatz when you returned, so now seems a good time to have a chat!

You approached behind him quietly, taking time to, for once, keep your voice at a low volume.

"Uh, hi Ignatz!" You whisper yelled, flinching as the dirty blonde jumped in surprise. He turned around, breathing a sigh of relief after registering who it was.

"Oh! It's just you, (Y/N). You shocked me, haha!" He nervously greeted you, fidgeting with his paintbrush.

You grinned, waving at him. "Sorry man, I tried not to scare ya!" You chuckled bashfully, before sitting down next to him.

"So, whatcha painting and how are ya doing, Ignatz?" You asked, looking over to him curiously.

His gaze landed on your own, his earthy eyes seeming to be stuck to your own, a tension almost bubbling.

He shook his head, smiling softly at you.

"Ah, simply the view. It really is quite mesmerising in the evening, wouldn't you agree?" Enthusiasm built in his tone as he explained, his soft smile turning into a gleeful grin, matching your own.

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. "I agree! I never really took time to take in the sights of the monastery, but now that I've matured... yeah, it really is a beautiful place, huh?" You hummed, looking off to the villages surrounding the base of the mountainous terrain.

He simply hummed to your question. "You're right (Y/N), you've really matured." He complimented, at least, that's what you hoped.

You gave a short laugh, scratching your neck. "Yeah, thanks! I used to be a rowdy one, but I think the past few years have smoothed some of the edges. Not all of 'em though!" You cheered, tilting your head appreciatively. You looked to him, catching his lingering gaze. His face heated up slightly, nodding to you.

"If you don't mind, I uh, have a request..." He mumbled, refusing to meet your eye. He pushed his glasses back, taking a quick peek at your face. If you blinked you would've missed it, he seemed so shy right now!

"Sure thing! If it isn't gold or assassination plans, I'm open!" You beamed, leaning in to hear what he had to ask.

He chuckled anxiously at your response. Even after knowing you for such a long time, having a girl so close to him was nerve-wracking.

"Nothing of the sort, don't worry. I was wondering, well, may I paint your likeness?" He muttered quietly, his heart stammering. His stomach drops after a few seconds of silence before daring to peek at the mystery of what your expression could be.

However, he was pleasantly surprised at what he saw. Your face was dark, lips pursed tight in a taught smile. You stuttered as you replied.

"Y-you wanna paint me! For real?! This is such an honour, seriously, thank you Ignatz!"

Ignatz gasped, anticipating anything but your reaction.

"Oh really, it's no worries!" He waved his hand dismissively, his own face reddening like a tomato.

The two of you continued to throw gratefulness at each other for what seemed like forever until you found yourselves at his dorm.

~~~~

"Well Ignatz, what kind of painting would you like to make?" You asked, sitting on a plush, velvet stool in his room. You looked around the place, noting the birthday flowers from Byleth, the spare easels and art supplies.

"Well, whatever you'd like truly, as long as I may paint you." He answered, humbly smiling and looking down at you.

You smirked, raising a brow. "How about a nude painting then?" You asked teasingly, crossing your legs.

He smiled at the idea. "Oh, what a good idea! I haven't had many references for the female anatomy and I've always been interested in..." The colour seemed to drain from his face as he realised just exactly what you suggested.

You stifled a chuckle, watching him stutter and rush to speak.

"O-oh! I didn't realise, no, I mean of course I would love to! Ah, that's too forward, no um... I don't want to pressure you, argh!" The colour which had left soon returned in the form of a crimson storm.

You laughed, shaking your head.

"Ignatz, really, it's no worries. I would genuinely not mind, I'm happy to as long as you are." You attempted to calm him down, smiling.

He took a deep breath, nodding.

"Then, yes. We're both adults now, there's no need to freak out." He seemed to try to convince himself rather than you.

"Exactly!" You smiled, standing up. "Alright, I'll undress now." You hummed, thinking.

You had already teased him by suggesting a nude painting, and stripping in front of the blushing boy... you could make this fun for yourself. And maybe even both of them. Claude may have just had a point.

You held his gaze as you unclasped your armour, placing it down on his desk, avoiding the parchment and sketches.

Next, you untied your cropped top, letting it fall to the floor leaving only your bodice on your upper half.

Undoing your bra, you broke his gaze for a moment only to look back immediately. His body seemed to stiffen, in more ways than one, once he caught sight of your breasts slightly bouncing as you stopped stretching.

You wiggled out of your puffed pants, sitting back down to pull them all the way off along with your boots and leggings.

"Nearly there!" You huffed, as you stood back up, shedding your underwear.

By then, Ignatz' face had erupted into a furious blush. His eyes lingered all too long on your exposed vagina, causing you to grin teasingly as he met your gaze.

"Now, shall we?" You asked, sitting upon the comforting stool once more.

He seemed to snap out of his daze at those words, tugging on his coat. Pulling out his desk chair, he set it in front of you. Pulling his easel across the room, the slight scratching of wood against wood was the sole sound of the tension-filled room.

Setting a canvas down, he seemed to take a few deep breaths before grabbing a pencil.

"How would you like me to pose?" You asked, smiling. This could be interesting.

"Oh, yes, uh, however you'd like to, really!" He stumbled upon his words, before finally holding your gaze.

"Got it." You responded. How could you tease him further? As you contemplated, you finally came across a decision. You leant one leg over another, giving him a subtle view of your exposed cunt.

You raised your arm, letting your gloved hand sit beneath your chin. Your upper arm pressed against your left breast, giving you slight cleavage, You gave him your signature cheeky grin, before raising a brow.

Speaking through your teeth, you asked him a question. "How's this?"

"J-j-just perfect!" He stuttered, shutting his eyes tight before reopening them and focusing.

"Now, hold that pose for me?" He asked, finally confident and contained. At least, on the outside.

You were content with holding your pose, as long as you could continue to tease him after he finished his sketch was your real goal. Whether or not anything transpired... well, you'd be lying if you said you didn't want anything to.

As you waited, you watched Ignatz' face morph into one of pure concentration, reminding you of how admirable he was. Despite his preference to stay on the quiet side of things, he was a talented man. Both on the battlefield and in the artistic field.

Minutes passed until Ignatz' face settled into a satisfied smile, signifying his completion of the sketch. You grinned wider at this, his face was adorable when he was proud!

"Thank you, (Y/N)." He thanked you. Refusing to look in your direction, he was reminded of the tightness in his pants.

"No, thank you, Ignatz! Actually... it had me wondering... may you do a favour for me?" Your voice dropped into a whisper, so his gaze fell upon your figure. Your eyelids drooped as a sultry smile fell upon your lips.

He gulped at this, yet nodding nonetheless. "Anything."

"Wonderful." You commented pleasantly. Standing up, you sauntered towards him. Aware of his gaze dropping to your softly bouncing tits as you took confident strides towards him.

Once right in front of him, looking down upon his still seated form you grinned.

"Let me... repay the favour you did for me?" You asked, tilting your head, curious.

He swallowed nervously once more, before nodding shyly. He fiddled with his hands, struggling to meet your gaze.

"How... how would you like to do so?" He mumbled, occasionally peeking up at your towering form.

"Well, if I put it bluntly... let me please you." You deadpanned, the loose smirk on your lip tugging back into place on your face, cheeks steadily growing rosier.

His face officially became a competitor for ripest tomato, and he nodded excitedly.

"Please... do." He muttered.

Your lazy smirk grew into a full-on grin. Quickly, you dropped to your knees.

He gasped at the inclination of your actions, his jaw staying dropped as you worked his pants downwards.

You slid his undergarments off, his cock bouncing free of its strained containment.

You licked a stripe up his cock, leaving a trail of saliva in your wake. He shuddered, a slight moan escaping his taught lips.

You gave a kiss to the bulbous, pink head of his dick before letting it slip in between your mouth.

His breath shuttered as you began to work a continuous up-and-down rhythm on his cock.

He gasped in time with each bob of your head, his hand slowly reaching its way to the back of your head. He looked down to check with you for permission, and you winked, giving your best inclination of consent.

And with that, he began to thrust into your mouth and push your head at the same time. God, he was insanely fast and rough, but you controlled your erratic throat muscles. It was pretty damn hot, especially for a guy so shy.

Your hand snaked down to your dripping pussy, the situation you orchestrated obviously having an effect on yourself. Not a negative one though, not at all.

You harshly began to rub your clit, not bothered with dragging it out. You were looking to climax, and by the sounds of Ignatz, he was too.

As you rubbed your sensitive bud, you moaned around his dick. The vibrations caused Ignatz to shudder, closing his eyes tightly.

"I'm gonna cum! Ah, (Y/N) you're making me cum!" He moans, groaning as you felt his cock still, and as the warm, bitter burst of cum in your mouth exploded, so did you. Your pussy clenched around emptiness, yet the throbbing in your clit as you orgasmed satisfied you all the same.

Your head slipped off his softening dick, a pleased smile settling on your face as you swallowed. As bitter as it was, you had nowhere else to hide the evidence.

"Thank you, Y/N)... that was... so good." He whispered, giving you a sweet smile. He leant down and kissed the top of your head and you chuckled.

"But I must ask, is that what you were learning whilst you were gone for so long?"

"Ignatz!?"

#fire emblem x reader smut #fire emblem smut #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #ignatz victor #ignatz x reader #ignatz victor x reader #ignatz smut #ignatz victor smut #fe ignatz #fe3h ignatz #smut #fe3h #fanfic #fe3h x reader #fe3h fanfic

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

Text

A Campsite To Remember

Summary: You and Henry go camping

Word Count: 2522

Warnings: None that I can think of. Fluff

A/N: This is a continuation of ideas from @henrynerdfan and @stephartrave. A camping date. This follows after A Hike to Remember, A Picnic to Remember, and A Beach to Remember, and is currently the last of this series, unless another idea comes in that runs in this same vein. It has not been beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know.

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @princesssterek @summersong69

The sun was warm when we arrived at the campground. Setting my backpack down, glad to be free of its weight, I looked around the site. There was a wood platform for setting up the tent so it would stay dry on one side of the clearing. Across from it was a picnic table and a firepit with a grill over it, perfect for cooking. Back down the path was a pair of outhouses. Not going to lie, that was one of the reasons for picking this campsite to rent when I looked it up online. Not having to balance while squatting over a hole seemed like something I would not want to do in the middle of the night if the need arose.

Henry scooped up my pack and moved it over to the wooden platform. He had been carrying the tent and the food. I had lugged our clothes and miscellaneous essentials we thought we might need, along with anything Kal might need. The Akita bounded around the clearing, barking at squirrels, letting them know he was moving in for the weekend.

“We made good time.” Henry smiled at me as he passed by on his way to set up the tent. I grinned, throwing a stick for Kal. I had offered to help build the tent, but Henry insisted he could handle it alone. Probably for the best, anyway, as tents and I didn’t seem to get along well.

Kal and I decided to explore the nearby forest, enjoying the fall weather. The leaves had changed once again, and the sun warmed the scenery, turning the whole area into a fiery display of colours. Kal pranced beside me, proudly carrying a stick in his mouth as though he had conquered it. I scratched his head as we walked, excitement blooming in me about this weekend. In honour of us being whatever we were for a year, Henry had flown back to Washington for a camping weekend.

Since our picnic date, we had kept in touch as best we could. His filming schedule kept him busy, and my job was becoming ever more demanding. We made sure to text as often as we could, call each other when the times aligned across time zones. Thankfully, we lived in a time where video calls were a thing. He had even flown me out to set one week for a beach getaway when filming went on a short break. We weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend, no labels, but we somehow knew that this was exclusive without ever blatantly saying it.

By the time Kal and I returned to the campsite the tent was up, and the sleeping bags were unrolled inside. Henry had gotten a fire roaring already. Even though the sun was still shining, it would soon set, and the bite of Autumn would follow quickly behind it. Even now the breeze that soughed between the trees brought with it a chill. The fire was a welcome balm to that chill.

When I stepped up beside Henry as he watched the flames lick higher, I slid my hand into his large warm one. He entwined our fingers, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. I leaned into his muscled arm, trying to absorb as much of his heat as I could.

“Cold?” Henry chuckled, dropping my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He tugged me into the side of his body, tucking me close under his arm. He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, lingering there, resting his head on mine. “I missed you. I missed this.”

“I missed you too.” I whispered, wrapping my arm around his back as I snuggled closer. I sighed; it felt so right to be here, in nature, like this. Nature was sort of our thing, so it was kind of perfect we were celebrating with a camping trip. Kal bumped my free hand with his big head, causing laughter to burst from both of us. “Of course, I missed you too.”

Henry and I moved about the campsite in perfect harmony, getting things ready for dinner. I had prepared a few things ahead of the trip so we would need to bring less things with us, and still be able to have nutritious meals. That didn’t mean I didn’t also bring the ingredients for smores. Every camping trip need smores.

The tinfoil packets filled with chopped veggies grilled nicely on the open fire, and the steaks were done to perfection. I don’t know if I could have pulled it off if I didn’t have Henry with me. I know it’s a stereotype that men are good at grilling, but it must be for a reason. Kal munched happily on the dog food I had made for him while we ate, his tail wagging the whole time.

“Watch out! It’s going to burn!” Henry laughed later as he watched my marshmallow catch on fire. He reached over to pull it out of the flames, blowing the fire out while still laughing. I hit his shoulder lightly for making fun of me, but I was laughing too. “You can’t put it in the flames. You have to put it down by the smoldering coals. Have you never done this before?”

“I did it lots as a kid, but it’s been a while.” I admitted, tossing my burnt marshmallow into the fire, before stabbing fresh one on. Henry shifted closer to me, guiding my skewer down to the edge of the fire where there were a few coals glowing with a warm orange heat.

“The trick is to keep rotating it like it’s on a rotisserie, not letting any side get more heat than the others.” Henry slowly spun my skewer in my hand, showing me his technique. I was distracted by his closeness, so it was a good thing he had a hold of the stick, otherwise this marshmallow was going to end up covered in ash. Risking it anyway, I kissed his cheek. A smile broke out on his face, but he kept his attention on the fire. “If you keep doing that, you definitely will burn your marshmallow.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” I admitted, pretending to take his smore making seriously. I had to suck my lips into my mouth to stop myself from laughing. He kept spinning the skewer, concentrating on it as the gooey confection on the end turned gold.

“Graham cracker and chocolate.” Henry instructed, getting ready to pull it from the heat. I held out the pieces I had prepared for the doomed marshmallow. He placed the warmed pillow of sugar on the piece of chocolate, and when I pressed the second graham cracker on top, he slid the skewer out. “And that is how you make the perfect smore.”

“Yum! Thank you.” I stared at the perfect little dessert sandwich, watching the marshmallow ooze out the sides. When I looked up to thank him again, Henry surprised me by pressing his lips to mine softly. It wasn’t as demanding as some of our kisses could be, or as chaste. It walked the line between the two, flirting with both sides equally.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Henry grinned when he pulled away, tossing my words back at me. I slowly opened my eyes. I would never complain about surprise kisses from this man. “You had better eat that before it gets cold. Cold smores are not as enjoyable.”

I mentally snapped out of the daze his kiss had put me and concentrated on eating my smore before the thing melted anymore. As it was chocolate was running down my thumb, threatening to drip off my hand and on to my jeans. I licked it up before that could happen, catching Henry watching me as I did. A blush crept up my neck, heating my cheeks when I realized what my action must have seemed like. Henry quickly looked away when he saw that I caught him, a blush painting his cheeks as well.

Night fell fast out here, and between the fresh air and the hike to get out to the camp, I was exhausted early on. My full stomach probably didn’t help as I fought off a food coma. Henry noticed me trying to stifle my yawns, covering them up behind my hand as I looked away from him. Chuckling, he patted my leg. We had already cleaned up the food and hid it in the cache to keep bears and other critters away from it. We had just been enjoying the fire and the clear night.

“Time for bed, love.” Henry encouraged as he stood up. He offered me his hand, which I gladly took. My body felt limp and sated after sitting by the fire with good food warming me from the inside, and the guy I was camping with warming me from the outside. He wrapped his arm around my body, his hand resting on my opposite hip as he guided me to the tent using a flashlight to see with. “Go in and get changed. I will wait.”

Kal had already put himself to bed in the tent, but he raised his head in greeting when I entered. He had taken over Henry’s sleeping bag, claiming it as his own. I laughed as I shone my flashlight at my pack so I could find my pjs. I pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt for Henry so he wouldn’t have to go digging through the pack as well. I quickly changed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, tugging on warm wool socks. My heart sang as I pulled on one of his old shirts that he had left last time he visited, just for me. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but he promised he had brought some more to swap out this one with.

“Your turn.” I smiled, unzipping the tent flap to step out. Henry ducked inside, and faster than I had been, changed.

Kal was unmoveable, even though Henry tried to pull his sleeping bag out from under the Akita. The dog just grunted and seemed to make himself weigh more. I chuckled, flipping open my sleeping bag in invitation. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about sleeping beside Henry. If nothing else, he radiated heat and could be my personal furnace.

“Are you sure?” Henry double checked before climbing in to join me. Up until now, we had never slept together. Even during our beach getaway, we had two beds in the room. It had been really hard to resist the temptation to crawl into his bed that night, but I didn’t want to cross a boundary he might not be ready for. I found out later, he had been thinking the same thing.

“I’m sure.” I promised, letting as much of the promise show in my eyes as it did in my words. Henry carefully slid into the cramped space of my sleeping bag. I found it adorable that he seemed to try to make his massive body smaller, to take up as little room as possible.

“Maybe if you…” Henry trailed off as we tried to figure out how we were both going to fit in the sleeping bag. Our legs were tangled together already, and his arm was under my head. I nuzzled into his chest, breathing in his scent deeply, trying to cover it up by pretending I was just searching for a comfortable position.

Suddenly I was being rolled up, so I was laying basically on top of Henry. He smiled as he flattened himself underneath me, his shoulders spanning the width of the sleeping bag. Both his arms were around me, shifting me so I was more on top of him. I wanted to fight him, but there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room.

“Just give in.” Henry whispered in my ear before I pulled my head away to search his face. The smile gracing his face reached his eyes, letting me know he was fully onboard with this position. “Unless its too uncomfortable for you.”

“No… No, it’s not that.” I tried to relax. This was the closest we had gotten other than when we were hugging in the ocean. His hand smoothed down my back, sending tingles up my spine. Being this close to him was shorting out my brain and I couldn’t think straight. His finger under my chin had me looking back at him, his eyes searching mine for what might be wrong. “I just… don’t want to squish you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” Henry laughed. I had to laugh at my reason too. This man was the strongest he had ever been and could easily bench me plus some. He cupped my cheek after tucking my hair away from my face. “How about this? If during the night either of us gets uncomfortable, I will sleep with Kal. Just say the word, and I’ll move.”

“Okay.” I said quietly, scared he would move now. I really was enjoying being this close to him. Though I am positive sleeping beside Kal wouldn’t be a new thing for him, I would feel bad kicking him out of the warm sleeping bag. Henry’s eyes searched mine again, making sure I was 100% okay with this.

“Oh. And to warn you, Kal snores.” Henry chuckled, wrapping his arms around me again, pulling my weight fully onto him. I hadn’t even noticed I was trying to hold myself off him until he did that.

“I remember.” I laughed, reaching over to give the Akita a pat good night, before tucking myself into Henry’s body. I was about to tuck my face into his neck, probably about to shock him with my cold nose, but I wanted one more thing.

I lifted my head back up, looking down into Henry’s blue eyes, getting momentarily lost. He looked up at me, his eyebrows raised in question. I smiled, and slowly lowered my face to his, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. I savoured the way our lips moved against each other, the way his tongue gently explored my mouth, getting reacquainted. The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it still made my toes curl and my skin tingle with goosebumps. The passion was slow burning, drawn out in long languid reverence.

As far as good night kisses went, this one was my favourite. Probably because it was our first true good night kiss. It wasn’t the chaste one we had offered each other at the beach hotel. This one was a kiss people more familiar with each other shared. I couldn’t help the grin on my face when we pulled away from each other. It was still on my face when I tucked my face into his neck, biting my slightly swollen lip, going over what just happened in my mind.

“Good night, sweetheart.” Henry whispered, smoothing my hair down before kissing the top of my head. I pressed a kiss to his neck, whispering the words back to him, silently praying Kal would hog his sleeping bag tomorrow night and we would have to do this again.

#henry cavill x female reader #Henry Cavill Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #Henry Cavill x Reader

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belit0 · 3 years

Text

@heavensbabygirl

I just found out your blog and I'm in love with it 🥺💞 your writing is really good. If it's not much of a trouble I'd like to ask for a headcanon or scenario about the uchihas (whoever you'd like to choose but pls do Madara 🙏🙏) finding out that their uchiha lover is more powerful than them.

Sorry for my english and thank you so much 🥰🥰

Welcome to my little spot ✨🖤 all my love to you!! Thank you so much, you made my day saying that my writing is really good 😭 here you go beautiful soul, Uchiha shower 4 u✨

Indra

This man would be angry, really fuming at the situation. Whoever it is, no one can dare to be stronger than him, unless they are looking to risk their lives.

He goes away for days without explanation after discovering the power of his beloved, and is consumed with indignation and anger. Just because someone has a minimal place in his life does not give that person the right to humiliate him.

When he returns he is surrounded by a terribly dark aura, something frightening and terrifying. The man who dominated his lover on the floor during their training to end up getting one’ s mouth on an intimate kiss… no longer exists.

His countenance is apprehensive, hard and cold.“ We’ll fight, right now. ”

During the battle, it is clear from the first moment that Indra does not hold back one bit. His intentions are in fact murderous. Even if he is confronting his lover, the fact that the latter has disrespected him in this way… he will not tolerate it.

He is clearly stronger than before his departure, and it is obvious that his absence was to improve and overcome his partner.

He did indeed succeed. Without remorse he strikes his lover one last time, leaving one on the verge of death on the floor. “Never dare to believe that you can be on top of me. Know your place or die before me.”

He hovers over his beloved and kisses with possessiveness.

Madara

Unlike the previous man, Madara finds the situation stimulating. A new challenge? Of course he will face it.

After his lover has imposed itself on him, when normally one would have given in to his overwhelming force, he gets up from the floor and shakes the dust off his clothes with a measured calm.

This Uchiha has a plan for everything. He knows it, and his partner knows it.

He knows how to recognize power when he sees it or experiences it, Madara is no fool. In his heart he is excited to find someone to defeat other than Hashirama.

The latter makes things go out of control…

Uchiha’s honour is above all else, and while he knows how to recognise a good opponent, let it be his partner who knocks him down, it makes him conflict. He dominates and manages, roles must be re-established.

Madara will not allow the fight to end until he succeeds in regaining superiority. Never.

His mate ends up letting themselves be defeated only so that the man stops trying to hit them.

Izuna

To be defeated? By whom should admire and love him? That just doesn’t add up. The only one who can be stronger than him is his big brother.

This Uchiha is… an immature child. If someone managed to beat him and by chance it is not Madara, it is because that person is probably cheating, using some trick. He doesn’t fail, least of all his skills. He will never admit it. (Questions about the incident with Tobirama? He let himself be beaten out of pity 😉)

For days, any minimal activity with his lover becomes a challenge. Walking in the woods? Let’s see who reaches that tree first. Lift the dishes from the table? Whoever picks up the most is the winner. Swim in the river? Whoever touches the other bank first beats the other.

He will do what he deems necessary to show that he is better than his partner, playing dirty is in his plans.When he finds that his lover is training alone, he bothers them, talking to them while they meditate and distracting them when they want to concentrate. That won’t happen.

Izuna knows that it’s difficult to reach his partner’s level, so he turns to Madara for help. His skill level easily increases when it comes to fighting his brother.

Finally, he challenges his partner to fight again. When things end in a draw, he can’t say he’s happy, but he’s… calm.

Obito

He is immediately surprised by the strength of his lover. He feels proud. How was it possible for him to get someone capable of surpassing him?

A tear of pain at the blows he received escapes his eyes. He does not feel the need to keep his guard up when he is with the person he loves. “I’m fine… that was… wow.”

He feels disappointed with himself for not being attentive enough to detect his partner’s true potential. He mentally notes that he must be more observant in the future.

He gets up from where he landed because of the beating he received and waits for his beloved partner to wrap up in a hug. “You sure are strong, huh?”

He allows his loving one to heal his wounds, and expresses the admiration he feels growing inside his chest at the power he has witnessed.

“… I’m just… I’m happy that you’re the one to help me continue the Uchiha legacy, you know?”

Shisui

He bursts into a nervous laugh when he realizes that he almost didn’t avoid his partner’s death blow. He have never been so grateful for his body flicker.

Shisui is absent-minded when it comes to things that have nothing to do with his work, but… he never believed that so much that he did not notice the overwhelming power of his lover.

His agility makes it impossible for punches or catches, but the Uchiha is aware that, if he drops the pace at which he is teleporting, he will be caught by one of those terrifying blows. He is impressed and makes the most of the situation to investigate the new skill his lover shows.

He is really enjoying himself. Teasing others is part of his being and… seeing his partner get frustrated at not being able to reach him, laughter is inevitable.

Until a blow hits him in one of his carelessness and his mocking is history. The only person who laughs now is the one who loves him, watching him grunt in pain.

Itachi

This man… this man always knew. Who are we kidding?

The Uchiha was waiting for the moment his partner thought it was time to reveal their true power. He was always aware that the other person was holding back when they were fighting together.

He feels vaguely insulted by his partner’s hidden ability. Does this person think that he is weak? Does this person think that he will not be able to bear it? He is determined.

Itachi strikes even harder until his lover has no choice but to give everything. He is truly overwhelmed by the person next to him when he is defeated.

"There’s no need to hold back on me… please.”

From that phrase, his partner fights with their full power, and Itachi learns from each encounter something new. Not only in the context of the confrontations, but also of the personality and mannerisms of his beloved.

With each beating he receives, he falls even more deeply in love with the person next to him.

#uchiha clan #uchiha madara #uchiha izuna #uchiha obito #uchiha shisui #uchiha itachi #otsutsuki indra #uchiha headcanons #madara #izuna #obito #shisui #itachi #indra otsutsuki #naruto shippuden #naruto imagines

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lokis-astvinur · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day.

One Shot: Tom Hiddleston x Reader.

· Word count: 1358.

· Warning: fluff and swearing.

You gulped and growled, you finished your drink in one sip and you felt your throat burn while the liquid went down. "Easy, easy," Benedict, your mentor and a friend said. "Benedict, I am going to punch you," you replied.

A chuckle from the door called your attention, you looked at the man standing there holding two glasses with what you believe was water. "Why is he here anyway?" you asked Benedict. "Darling, I was here before you came in," Tom said offering Benedict a glass. "Thank you," Benedict said, "Tom and I were in the middle of something," he explained. "Brilliant," you hissed, "Let me know when you are done gloating," you grinned squinting your eyes annoyed. "I haven't said a word," Tom rolled his eyes. "I can see that damned smug, Hiddleston," you growled. "Oi, oi," Benedict interrupted, "You, my dear need to take it easy, Tom is not doing or saying anything, plus you need to rest," "Of course!" you fake laughed, "You're kicking me out too!" "I am not kicking you out," Benedict said softly, "I want you to stop drinking and rest," "Why did he dump me a week before Valentine's Day?" you whispered, tears accumulating in your eyes. "Do not do that to yourself," Benedict comforted you, you nodded and you bit your lip, a pout in your mouth while you looked at Benedict. Tom looked at you and made him feel bad, you didn't deserve that, you could be annoying or too friendly to his eyes but you were a nice woman, you were kind, loyal, even fun sometimes. "He doesn't deserve you," Tom murmured. "What?" you asked, you heard his murmur but not what he said. "I said he doesn't deserve you," He replied. You looked at him shocked, he seemed upset and you have never seen him care that much for you. You nodded and gave your glass to Benedict. "I should get going," you babbled, "you probably had plans and I am interrupting," "You can stay in the guest-room tonight," Benedict added, quickly. "No, it is alright," you smiled, "I've got to buy some stuff anyway," "Let me know when you are home," Benedict. They both walked you out, Benedict kissed your cheeks and Tom nodded your way. You waved them goodbye and walked away. You stopped by Sainburys' and got some ice-cream, chocolates and beers.The next day you went out for a stroll around Hampstead Heath, you need fresh air. A few people recognized you and asked for a picture, you smiled and posed for a few, afterwards you just wanted to be by yourself. You sat down on the nearest bench and got lost in your thoughts. You texted your friends to meet up that night before your flight back to Atlanta, filming starting earlier. "Hello, my dear friend," you smirked over the phone as if Benedict could see you. "You idiot," he replied, "How are you doing?" "I am fine," you answered, "getting some vitamin D on my body," "I do not want to know those things," Benedict hissed. "Sun, Benedict, sun," you laughed. "You are the worst, honestly," Benedict murmured, "I was planning a date night for us," "Were you now?" you giggled. "I want my friend to be happy and herself while she is filming," he added. "Okay," you replied, "when?" you added. "Tomorrow night, I will send you the address," Benedict explained, "Please, wear something nice," "Ugh, formal," you faked gagged. "Yes, like a date," he said. "Okay," you sighed, "I will see what can I do." You walked back home, you spent the day watching movies and answering fans over Twitter. Early morning, you made some easy and quick breakfast. You showered and went for a run. After lunch, you went shopping and bought a nice dress to wear for your dinner with Benedict. He texted you the address around noon and by 7 PM you were ready and waiting patiently for your cab. You were planning on drinking as much wine as you could, Benedict will drop you off anyway, you thought. "This must be a mistake," you spat, confused. "Glad to see you, too," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "Where is Benedict?" you questioned, squinting your eyes inspecting the room. "He is not coming," Tom answered. "But," you babbled. "I knew you would decline my offer that's why I asked our dear Benedict to do it for me," Tom explained. "Why would you want to dine with me?" you asked, confused. "Because you deserve more than just takeout," he replied, calmly. "Tom, I am confused," you said, "Honestly, you do not tolerate me," "I do tolerate you," Tom replied. You looked at him unamused, "You do not," "Darling, long before our disagreements started I had the biggest crush on you, I never said a thing because I did not know if you were interested and when I tried, you informed Benedict of your fling with that imbecile that Aaron was," Tom explained. "You shitting me right now," you laughed, you glared at him, your mouth fell open in surprise. "Surprise," Tom added. "Thomas William Hiddleston," you hissed, "Do not play with me right now," "Darling, that was the past, I have moved on," he shrugged. "Oh," you whispered, those words made you sad for some reason. "So, will you accept my truce for a few hours and dine with me?" Tom asked.

“Benedict, I need you to pick me up at the airport," you said over the phone. "Bloody hell, it's 4 in the morning," Benedict growled, clearly asleep. "Please," you pouted, forgetting he couldn't see you. "Be there in 20 minutes," he sighed. "You are the absolute best," you said, kissing his cheek. "Why am I the one picking you up from the airport?" he questioned, driving out into the cold London night. "Because it is a surprise," you smiled. "I'm starting to regret some decisions I've made in the past," he said. "You love us," you giggled. You arrived at Benedict's house and went straight to your assigned rooms. You needed to rest at least five hours before your surprise. Benedict woke you up for lunch, you ate chatting about your filming and flight. He told you all about the things you have missed and what time you would be leaving the house. A few hours later, you got ready and Benedict dropped you off. You tiptoed around the house as quietly as possible. "Hi boy," you whispered to the pup. He licked your face and you giggled. He led the way into his owner room and you held the flowers tightly. He was reading, concentrated on his book a glass of wine accompanied him alongside the fireplace making sparks. "Now, that's how you spend Valentine's Day?" you smirked. He turned so fast he nearly fell over, his book fell on the floor while he struts towards you, he hugged you so tight it provoked a shiver on you. "What are you doing here?" Tom asked. "Surprise," you whispered. He chuckled. "A surprise indeed," he said, dragging you to his chair. "I thought I could drop by and invite you to dine," you said. "Why for?" he asked smirking. "I heard you were going to be alone," you said. "Bobby is here," Tom smiled. "God's sake Hiddleston," you hissed, "Will you be my Valentine?" "Are you playing with me now?" he asked, playfully. "Thomas William Hiddleston," you sighed, "I love you... If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love--I love--I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on," you confessed. "I am honoured," Tom replied. "Are you rejecting me?" you asked, your lip trembled. "I am telling you that I wish to be called yours and not Tom nor darling or dear anymore," Tom whispered, his eyes flying from your eyes to your lips. "Mr Hiddleston," you murmured, getting closer to him. "Mrs Hiddleston," he murmured, his lips brushed yours, you chuckled, "Too soon?" he chuckled. "I like it," you smiled crashing your lips on his.

#Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston x you #Tom Hiddleston fanfic #Tom Hiddleston fanficition #Tom Hiddleston imagines #Tom Hiddleston drabbles #MCU

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honeysofte-archieve · 3 years

Text

birdsong.

rating: teens and up. suggestive themes.

pairing: cremisius aclassi/female lavellan.

word count: 2,559

summary: Lavellan stays the night. Or rather: a morning.

haven’t written anything in a long while so this might come off as really clumsy & cringy, but here it is, anyway! <3

* * *

She is wearing his shirt.

She is sitting by the wide window sill, leaning against the wall and reading a leather-bound book while balancing a cup of herbal tea on one of her folded knees, and she is wearing his shirt and--

not much else, to be honest.

This is naturally the first thing Krem notices once he opens his eyes because he’s surprisingly one-track minded when it comes to Lavellan to his greatest embarrassment. Not that her appearance is the only thing that he cares about, far from it for he would adore her no matter what, but it certainly makes her all the more distracting to him.

The boys like to give him shit about it, too -- how utterly obvious and showy his affection and desire for her is. Krem would shut their faces permanently with his fist if Lavellan didn’t find it so endearing and smile at him sweetly whenever the topic comes up. Sometimes she even gets on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek in front of all of them like she’s not ashamed at all of his affection for her and isn't afraid to show she returns the sentiment just as wholly.

And isn’t that the most amazing thing in the world for someone to have? To love and be loved so genuinely and kindly that one can feel it all the way inside their spine and lungs, a comforting presence no one wants to lose, ever.

in ao3. ♥

But of course, the topic of love has never come up, at least in spoken words. Everything is still quite new and wonderful, but Krem knows it's true. He loves her. And he's pretty positive she loves him too. Or he hopes she does, the other option gives him way too much anxiety so he's trying not to think about it. Like, ever.

But anyway, Krem can’t help but stare with no words to describe what he is feeling. He can feel the faint flicker of red on his cheeks. He can feel how his heartbeat quickens two-fold. He can feel a weight loosening free inside his chest as he watches this beautiful creature that is somehow his.

Inquisitor Lavellan looks open and vulnerable and beautiful in the morning sun, the light dancing on her neck and chest-- the old scars on her face, the faint stretch marks and moles littering her thighs and arms more prominent this way. She is frowning slightly as she reads, her teeth tugging her lower lip in concentration at whatever is happening in the book, before she licks her thumb and turns another page, oblivious to Krem’s gawking.

The shirt, of course, is not the main reason he can't keep his eyes away from her, though, even if she looks very attractive in it.

No, the very thing that has Krem astonished is that she's still here. In his room. In the morning. For the first time since they've started doing this, kissing and laughing and having sex, and Krem… isn't entirely sure what to make of it.

Lavellan is a very busy woman after all.

A few moments pass before Lavellan glances in his direction and takes a double-look when she notices him awake. Krem kind of does this awkward finger-wiggle sort of thing at her because it's quite impossible for her not to figure out he's been staring at her quite intently for a while now.

"Good morning, Cremisius,” Lavellan murmurs with a small smile on her heart-shaped face and does a finger-wiggle right back at him, making it look somehow elegant and not idiotic as hell.

No one, not one person, calls him Cremisius. No one except for her. And he likes how the name forms in her mouth, likes the look on her face as she says it aloud. His heart always skips a beat when she does it and he doesn’t think he will ever get used to it. He is so easy for her.

Lavellan looks unusually relaxed this morning, Krem has not often seen her like this-- probably no one does. She works and works and works and rarely takes time for herself and it’s always rubbed Krem off the wrong way how much people demand of her, never giving her a break, never letting her just be. Sometimes he feels like fighting every fucker who makes her feel like she doesn't deserve time for herself, but he desists. Mostly.

But here she is. Here she is this morning; still with him despite her duties and demands of others. For the first time during their relationship. It's almost astonishing.

“Morning.” Krem’s throat is slightly dry and his voice catches just a little when he meets her bronze coloured eyes. Maker, he hopes it’s not too obvious.

“Did you sleep well?” Lavellan asks gently, closes her book and takes a sip of her still steaming tea. She mustn't have been awake for long though the morning seems already later than normal. Krem is usually already long awake at this hour, doing drills with the boys or eating an early lunch.

Krem blinks and blinks again before finally realises she’s expecting an answer and he ends up nodding. And for a while, they just keep staring at each other in silence before Krem can’t help but beam at her in something like happiness.

“I like your shirt,” he blurts out, feeling absolutely moronic today for some reason. It makes Lavellan lift her eyebrow and for a while, Krem is sure she’s going to ignore the comment as she often does, but this time she only shrugs and says:

“I was feeling a little cold.”

It’s summer and it’s not true, both of them know that, so Krem grins, his lips wide, and Lavellan rolls her eyes in something like fondness. She scratches her leg, the shirt collar dropping downwards as her body moves and Krem has to swallow hard.

The moment isn’t awkward, per se, it’s just new and it seems like neither of them really knows how to fill it. It doesn't feel like the place for empty chatter.

“You look good in it. Comfortable. Very.... stimulating,” he dares to comment and suppresses a lewd grin that threatens to slip out.

“Hmm,” Lavellan answers. She seems amused, however faintly, which Krem takes as a victory. He feels an urge to do something with his hands-- pull her closer across the distance and touch the soft skin of her thigh. Or something.

“So,” Krem says slowly. The scratchy sheets are bundled around his waist and he scratches his abdomen. His chest is bound, but he doesn’t feel self-conscious around her, not anymore. For she knows him; she knows most things about him. He knows a little less about her, but he’s determined to learn every piece of her in time.

Lavellan opens her book again.

“So,” Lavellan answers and even though she’s not looking at him, the corners of her mouth are twitching. It makes Krem braver than he is.

“I kind of didn’t expect you to still be here.”

His words are casual and not accusing, not in the slightest, and he’s glad that Lavellan notices it as well because her expression doesn’t change.

“I’m taking the day off,” Lavellan replies and flips a page forward in her book, though she’s not reading it as far as Krem can tell, just staring at the words since her eyes don’t move on the paper.

“Can an inquisitor take a day off?”

“Who could stop me? I am the Inquisitor,” Lavellan kind of scoffs, kind of laughs. Krem’s gaze is focused on her pink mouth because, Maker, he is apparently just as bad as most other men are when it comes to a pretty face. He really hopes Lavellan doesn’t notice, that’d be quite embarrassing. Not that he has ever pretended to know something about words like honour or chastity.

“... Fair point.”

Lavellan hums underneath her breath, a breathy sound that is filled with something untraceable to him. He wonders what she’s thinking about.

“What are you reading?” Krem asks casually as he can, feeling slightly idiotic because he doesn’t know what to do at this moment. He wants to stand up and go to her, he wants to kiss her and pull her back to bed and do things to her that makes her body wet with sweat and pleasure.

Still, he does nothing except grip the bedsheets into this fist and takes a deep breath. He can be patient when he wills so-- he can be patient for her.

“A romance novel. Or rather a bodice ripper, I would say.”

“Shit,” Krem replies. Or more like mumbles as he still feels a little tired after the night despite having slept so long this morning. He's sort of surprised the chief hasn't come barreling through his door yet, the big damn oaf.

“Josephine gave it to me,” Lavellan continues casually. She is combing her long blonde hair with her fingers as she speaks and Krem wants nothing more than to touch her right at this moment. He aches with it, his fingers cramping at how hard he is gripping the bedsheets.

“She apparently got it from Vivienne who got it from Cassandra who got it from Sera who got it from... somewhere." Lavellan pauses. "Josephine called it the ‘the most beautifully written love story of this age’ so naturally, I needed to read it.”

“So, how is it?”

Krem doesn't want to talk about books.

He wants to pull her back into his bed and do things to her with his mouth and sleep some more afterwards.

“Mildly entertaining and educational. Considerably smuttier than I expected truth to be told, but I don’t mind. See, I had no idea qunari could be so incredibly... bendy.”

Lavellan grins at him, her mouth in a wicked bow, and Krem is not blushing. He is not. He is a grown man and doesn't flush at the mere mention of sex, that would be ridiculous considering he spends most of his time around Iron Bull and the other boys who hold nothing back.

"I'm certain you could ask the chief about it if you're really curious."

Lavellan huffs. "No thank you, that is definitely not the kind of conversation I want to have with my lover's superior."

Krem's heart jumps into his throat. Lover, he thinks. He likes the sound of the word. It feels fitting for them.

“Come here,” he requests throatily, changing the subject to something he is more desperate for. “Please.”

Lavellan spends a moment only looking, or perhaps studying, him with her piercing eyes before she sets down the book and her now empty teacup on the window sill and comes to him, all gentle smiles and cold fingertips. Just before he lays down, she takes off his shirt and Krem feels a tiny bang of disappointment before he realises that the sight of her bare frame, her charming curves and soft belly and generous chest, the constellations of freckles, moles and scars on her skin, are a marginally better sight.

Lavellan lets him look at her a moment that doesn't feel like enough time to drink in the picture she makes before she settles beside him on her stomach and Krem closes her delicate hand inside his own sword-callused one.

“You look so beautiful,” he confesses, perhaps too honestly, the words escaping his mouth like a bird out of its cage For a short moment Lavellan looks almost impossibly surprised like this is something she didn’t expect him to say at all. Her eyes are wide and sweet with something like utter fondness for him.

“And you are looking very handsome,” she counters, never quite knowing what to do with a direct compliment and this time he definitely blushes quite visibly but finds himself not minding it that much at all anymore. She could see all of him, naked and laid bare, and he would let her, always. No secrets, no fears.

Lavellan cups Krem's cheek and peers at him with an unflinching look, her thumb stroking the curve of his moist mouth. His tongue peeks out of his mouth and he swallows hard.

“Your freckles have grown bolder under the summer sun,” she comments aloud as her fingers explore every nook of his face, tracing the bridge of his nose with her long nail and thumbing the fragile, blue skin underneath his eyes that are still puffy from sleep. He feels invincible, confident beyond explanation. That's what Lavellan does to Krem.

Krem licks his lips. He licks his lips and the tip of it catches on Lavellan's fingertip, just before she presses her tender mouth to his own and kisses him for the first time for what feels like forever.

And it's a very good kiss. One of the best he's ever had.

Not overly gentle, but intense and sweet, and it consumes him entirely with its depth, making him feel thoroughly light-headed and happy.

So happy. Being with Lavellan makes him the happiest he's ever been. He's a lucky son of a bitch and he’s the first one to admit that.

"I'm glad you stayed tonight," Krem whispers, his voice husky with need and she looks straight into his eyes before murmuring: "Me too."

Afterwards, a comfortable silence surrounds them for a long while. They fill it with kisses and hungry caresses, but they're not in a rush to start anything more. They continue until Lavellan breaks apart and searches his eyes with her own brown ones. For some reason, there's a touch of sadness in them.

"You know it's nothing personal, don't you?" she asks hesitantly, her fingers drumming against his chest as she talks-- a habit that tells him that she’s genuinely nervous about his answer. She swallows before continuing: "If I could, I would wake up in your arms every morning, it’s just-- "

"I know," Krem murmurs, shushing her words with a small peck. And he does, but fuck how he hates it. Sometimes he would just want to bury her in his arms and hide her from the rest of the world. Not that Lavellan would ever let him, but a man can dream.

"Good." Lavellan nods, satisfied. She brushes his forehead with the back of her hand, sweeping off a drooping hair strand that's been tickling his brow for a while now. Krem isn't sure if he deserves such tenderness from her. Or anyone.

"Good," Krem repeats with the biggest grin that flashes his teeth and Lavellan rolls her beautiful eyes before kissing him again with a fierce sort of enthusiasm that takes Krem off guard.

But neither of them are leading it to anything more. They're perfectly content just like this, with rush or impatience for nothing.

It's a new feeling and it's lovely.

"This is nice," Krem says after they pull apart again with their mouths wet and red, her doe-eyes almost swallowed up by her black pupils.

Lavellan looks entirely fond. She presses her lips to his forehead, the gesture not overly sweet but close enough. "It is."

"Maybe you could… take a day off again some time," Krem suggests making Lavellan sort of snort in surprise. Though before Krem can feel too bad about asking, she murmurs acceptance in his ear.

"Mm. I'll see what I can do."

It's as good as a promise.

#dragon age #da:i #lavellan #cremisius aclassi #krem x inquisitor #female lavellan #cremisius aclassi x inquisitor #fanfic #*my writing #character: sage

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kurowrites · 4 years

Note

Kiss prompt: 8 & 11 : ) If you like?

kassandraescobat said: #1 for the kiss prompt wangxian.

8. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward

11. when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

1. breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths

---

Lan Wangji was awake and had started to get ready for the day, sitting in front of a small bronze mirror to comb his hair, tie it up, and fix his hairpiece on top. It was quiet in the Jingshi, exactly as quiet as its name suggested. He had opened one of the blinds to the garden, letting in the lovely morning breeze and permitting him a beautiful view of the garden hung with morning mist, but he had been careful that no light reached the hidden corner where his bed was placed.

His husband was still asleep, as he so often was ere Lan Wangji woke him.

Lan Wangji sighed and tried not to think of the challenges of the day just yet. They had become more recently, meetings and petitions and negotiations that never seemed to end. He had accepted the position as Chief Cultivator, even though he could have lived his life without receiving that honour, and would have preferred to concentrate on matters he found more pressing.

Like his husband.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian had been married half a year ago not out of their own volition, but because politics had demanded it. It had been a sensible strategy, too; both the Gusu Lan and the Yunmeng Jiang sects had been doing very well ever since their marriage. Wei Wuxian’s deep friendship with the Young Lady at Koi Tower and Sect Leader Wen Qing at the Nightless City had helped balance out the relationships between the individual clans, and ever since, the people had enjoyed a time of unprecedented peace and prosperity.

The same could not be said for their personal relationship. Lan Wangji was married to a man whom he mostly remembered as a mischievous teen of fifteen, a boy he’d always had difficulty getting along with. And the Wei Wuxian that he knew now, the Wei Wuxian he was married to, was neither mischievous nor was he a teenager, but an exceptionally smart adult that carefully held himself at a distance from Lan Wangji.

And, if Lan Wangji was honest, that hurt him.

Marrying Wei Wuxian had been a sacrifice for the sake of his sect, his family, and the cultivation world as a whole. He could not pretend that had not been the case.

And yet, deep in his heart he had irrationally hoped that there might be something that could be salvaged of their former relationship. Wei Wuxian had once called Lan Wangji his friend. Perhaps they could return to that.

That hope had been destroyed quickly.

Wei Wuxian shared his marital bed, and yet he felt more distant than ever. Lan Wangji awoke to Wei Wuxian’s soft sleeping face every morning, and yet it was not his.

Finishing his morning toilet and fixing the remaining pieces of his clothing with another quiet sigh, he steeled himself and walked over to the dimmest corner of the Jingshi, to their bed.

Quietly, he said, “Wei Ying, it is time to get up.”

A small sound came from the blankets, but they did not move like they usually would. Wei Wuxian did not emerge from them, a little pale from sleep, his hair tousled adorably, unbefitting of a man of twenty-five.

Lan Wangji waited for a moment. When nothing happened, he spoke up again.

“Wei Ying. Are you awake?”

“No,” came the muffled answer from the blankets. “Tell Lan Qiren I’m sick.”

Lan Wangji tried to suppress an exasperated sigh, but it was difficult. What a childish thing to do, to lie in order to avoid work!

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Wangji said in a warning tone.

“Lan Wangji,” came the cold answer. “Leave me. I’ll be up in a little bit.”

If anyone asked him, Lan Wangji would be unable to explain what exactly irritated him so much about Wei Wuxian’s words, but irritated him they did. He felt terribly petty even as he was doing it, but before he knew it, he had been compelled to grab the blanket that Wei Wuxian had covered himself with, and ripped it away.

It was evidently an action that Wei Wuxian had not expected from Lan Wangji, since the blanket easily came off, falling to the floor in front of the bed.

It also exposed the ugly truth to Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian had not been stubborn. He had been crying.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji exclaimed in shock.

“Ugh,” Wei Wuxian croaked, quickly wiping his eyes with his sleeves. “Just leave me alone for a moment. I’ll be ready on time.”

But Lan Wangji could not do that. How could he? Wei Wuxian had been left alone too often recently, always at the end of the list of priorities ever since his marriage and his public allegiance to Gusu Lan. So instead of leaving, Lan Wangji sat down on the edge of the bed.

Wei Wuxian turned away from him, hiding his tear-streaked face. It was useless to hide, however, for his shoulders still occasionally hitched with suppressed sobs.

Lan Wangji had the strong desire to lay his hand on Wei Wuxian’s back and soothe him, just like his mother had sometimes done to him as a child, but he was unsure whether such an action would be welcome at all.

“Was it my doing?” he asked, a little desperate.

“No, Hanguang-jun is an unparalleled beacon of virtue and justice, as usual,” was Wei Wuxian’s answer, but the words felt terribly bitter to Lan Wangji.

“I am also your husband,” Lan Wangji reminded him. “I have a duty to care for your wellbeing, too.”

That statement was responded to with a disparaging huff.

“Do you now?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice still bitter.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, pleading. He did not know what else to say. Of course he cared for Wei Wuxian’s wellbeing! He always had! Otherwise, he would never have been so strict with him during the Sunshot Campaign, trying to protect him from himself and everyone else.

But Wei Wuxian continued to give him the cold shoulder, his back stubbornly turned towards Lan Wangji.

“Wei Ying,” he tried again.

That elicited a sigh out of Wei Wuxian, and he finally turned around. His eyes were still full of tears, one of them slipping down his cheek as he sat up, and all Lan Wangji could do was try his best to keep his hands to himself.

“Will you hold me for a moment?” Wei Wuxian asked with the smallest voice that Lan Wangji had ever heard from him.

The ‘yes’ got stuck in his throat, but Lan Wangji had enough presence of mind to lift his arms, to be just inviting enough for Wei Wuxian to tip forwards, right into Lan Wangji’s embrace.

His face was hot, even through Lan Wangji’s robes, and his body shook lightly.

Not unlike a rabbit, Lan Wangji thought to himself as he enveloped Wei Wuxian in a hug, shamelessly burying his nose in Wei Wuxian’s hair. He held onto Wei Wuxian tightly, unwilling to ease his hold, afraid of what would happen if he let go. If Wei Wuxian would disappear, just as elusive as the morning mist outside his window.

They stayed like that for a moment, quiet and unmoving, until Wei Wuxian finally sighed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just being overly dramatic.”

Lan Wangji felt like that was not an accurate assessment of the situation, however. He knew there had been tension between them lately. He knew that their relationship was not as it could be. As it had been once, perhaps.

“I care,” he found himself saying. “Even if it is of no consequence.”

Wei Wuxian lifted his head and stared at Lan Wangji with wide, watery eyes.

“You make it very hard to keep my distance, you know.”

That gave Lan Wangji pause.

Distance? He thought in confusion. Why would Wei Ying need to keep his distance?

The next thing he knew were soft lips pressing against his own.

It was over after a moment.

Wei Wuxian drew back, averting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

It was easy to reel him back in. Lan Wangji’s arms were still around Wei Wuxian. It was easy to hold him close and chase after the sensation of these lips on his own, because it only meant not to hold himself back. This time, when they kissed again, Wei Wuxian’s arms found their way around Lan Wangji’s neck, holding him just as tight as Lan Wangji held Wei Wuxian.

When they finally parted for air, Lan Wangji pressed his forehead against Wei Wuxian’s, unwilling to let him go too far, and lightly swayed back and forth. He was unable to open his eyes, afraid of what he might find once he did. But Wei Wuxian didn’t push him away, didn’t try to escape, but kept holding onto Lan Wangji just as tightly.

A sigh dropped from his mouth.

“Very hard to keep my distance,” he murmured.

Lan Wangji opened his eyes to look at Wei Wuxian, still close enough that his mouth was right there, so very, very kissable. It was foolish to resist, when it was right there. So he kissed Wei Wuxian again.

Once, twice, three times.

If kisses were what his husband needed for his wellbeing, he thought to himself as he wiped the last tears out of the corners of Wei Wuxian’s now smiling eyes, then he would be willing to perform his duties very conscientiously.

“You know that everyone is waiting for Hanguang-jun in the main hall?” Wei Wuxian whispered into his mouth when they parted after another kiss. “They’ll be soo angry if we’re late.”

Lan Wangji decided to silence that protest with more soft kisses.

They could wait for once, he felt, while he brought his private affairs into order.

That was also an important political issue, after all.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mdzs headcanons #enter21

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ladyinbooks · 3 years

Text

So on ao3 juiceboxoverlord mentioned ‘ And the way Hess is so enamoured with Dan's emotions and ideology like I bet that if they had never met Hess would still fall in love with Dan on the battlefield probably.’

We all know I have an absolute, terrible weakness for this kind of thing, so I really, really couldn’t resist.

So have a mini AU.

Title: Such Violent Delights Pairing: Hess/Daniel Summary: The Antichrist and the Righteous Man meet on a battlefield. Warning: Some minor descriptions of violence/death; dub-con kissing (I mean, it’s Hess...); Hess POV

These violent delights have violent ends.

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder.

Which, as they kiss, consume.

- 'Romeo and Juliet', William Shakespeare

Hess should have seen the ambush coming.

They have been doing so well recently, in their push against Heaven. More territory has fallen to them, more people persuaded by their promises, their ideas.

He should have known it would be too good to last.

The sharp crack as he twists his hand and snaps three necks, reminds him of nothing so much as the splintering of wet wood. Around him the sounds of the dead and the dying are a cacophony, topped by Abaddon's voice bellowing orders.

The bone-white of her hair is visible at the edge of his eyeline. In her suit she is still immaculate, barking at Raum and Asmodeus as she directs his troops like the General she is.

It makes him smile – makes him bare his teeth at the next angel that tries to rush him, as he extends a hand.

That terrible, tearing sensation down his arm; a light so bright that even he almost shields his eyes. He gets a hand on the angel's wrist and pulls.

There is the searing crackle of holy flesh; the unholy sound of an angelic voice raised in a scream. The noise is enough to make the humans around him flinch back, pressing hands to their ears, in a desperate attempt to block out the death of a small piece of the fabric of the universe.

Hess ignores the shriek, and the white hot pain cracking through his finger bones. He smiles, bloodied teeth and wicked intent, and drops the carcass to the floor.

He’s distracted, unfocused, and so it is instinct that saves him, nothing more.

The sharp prickle of intent at the nape of his neck, and he sidesteps just in time to avoid a blade to the back.

He pivots; lashes out and catches the next down-swing with a scrap of shadow.

For a moment, all he can focus on is the sharp steel of the blade centimetres from his throat. The line of it is bright, burning; the runes inscribed on it are holy enough they almost make his eyes water.

A blessed blade.

He only knows one person who would carry such a thing.

He sidesteps again in time to avoid the second blade aiming to bury itself in his gut. One, two, three heartbeats, and he draws in a deep breath.

Enough, he thinks, and the word is broadcast out.

Everything shudders to a halt.

Painfully, grinding and unnatural, the world stills around him.

He doesn't often do this – doesn't often have the inclination or the energy – but sometimes there is a need for it. An itch, just to walk in a frozen reality where there are no demands on him. No threats.

“Let me go,” someone says, harsh, and Hess smiles.

He knows who the Righteous Man is, of course. He's seen Daniel Waters in reports and later – when Heaven sank their perfect claws into him – on screen and in newspapers. Images of him plastered everywhere: saviour, hero, madman.

“A little lost lamb,” he says, and hears the sharp intake of breath.

When he turns to look, Daniel Waters is still too. He's not frozen though – not like every other wretched creature in this blood-soaked field. He's bound, arms strung out by Hess's power.

And in spite of that, he's still fighting.

Tall, strong; a sharp jawline and an undeniable presence. Eyes filled with the burning silver fire of heaven, smoking with purity and determination as he wades against Hess's darkness. A battered leather jacket and scuffed up jeans. Mankind's saviour.

Daniel manages a step, then another, muscles straining as he claws his way forward. His teeth are bared as he snarls, and for one moment Hess honestly wonders if he's about to break free.

“Let me go,” he repeats, and his voice is firm and clear.

It makes Hess want to ruin him.

Blood-soaked and perfect, this creature – this man – is the image of bitter triumph; a holy sacrament, born to suffer at the hands of those who would use him. Made to fight anyway, because he's good. Because he cares.

“Why should I?” he asks, and watches the way Daniel doesn't falter.

“So I can kill you.”

And it's –

Delightful. Wonderful. It makes Hess's heartbeat skip in a way it hasn't for a long, long time.

“Well aren't you a sweet thing,” he says, just to watch the way those eyes flare brighter.

It makes him smile; makes him lick the blood from his teeth as he thinks of war and ruination, and all he could wreak on this perfect, violent creature.

Another painful step, the footfall as heavy as the centre of the earth. Daniel is closer now, arms still bound, but near enough that Hess can see the scattered imperfections of him.

A small nick at the corner of his jaw, long since scarred. The tendons of his neck as he strains, desperate, against the ropes Hess has bound him with. Blond hair, so dark it's almost brown, cropped short enough that Hess probably couldn't get a good grip of it. A perfect, snarling mouth, and a dusting of days-old stubble.

For a moment Hess wonders what colour his eyes were, before he became this pawn. This holy weapon. Were they brown, or green, or blue? Would they look at him in the same way?

Movement, and Daniel's foot lashes out. The heel of it manages to catch Hess's shin. It hits hard enough to hurt, and for a moment he falters.

Nothing has come close enough to injure him since the Before, and his concentration shatters.

The roar Daniel lets loose is triumphant as he breaks free. He lunges forward, slamming into Hess. His swords clatter to the grass, but his momentum doesn't stop.

They fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs, calloused fingers wrapping hard around Hess's throat, squeezing.

The weight of him is perfect; the heat and strength of his body a paradise Hess hasn't felt in a long, long time.

It makes him laugh, breathless, and for a moment the grip of those hands on his neck fails.

He moves - fast and terrible enough that Daniel's lip is splitting under his knuckles before he can recover from the shock. The force of it snaps Daniel's head back, and the impact shudders up Hess's arm.

He twists and they roll, scrabbling against one another until Daniel is flat on his back, Hess gripping his wrists, pressing them above his head into the mud. His fingernails are digging in, and he watches the way something flares and dies in Daniel's eyes; in the way he tries to bring a leg up, to fight against the weight of Hess across his thighs.

“Stay still, sweet thing,” Hess says, and can't help the way he leans down, leans closer. “You don't want to make me angry.”

Daniel growls beneath him, dangerous and not at all subdued. “I don't give a fuck about making you angry.”

“You should.”

The softness of Daniel's lips is a shock; the sharp inhalation of his breath a symphony. The warmth of his mouth is a victory. The taste of his blood lingers on the back of Hess's tongue, as he smiles against the Righteous Man's mouth.

He wants this, and he wants this, and he wants this.

The perfect way to get back at Heaven. To tear them down, one sanctimonious, inane figurehead at a time.

Except –

A pulse, against the pad of his thumb, thundering in time with his own heartbeat. The sharp, vicious sensation of teeth sinking into his lower lip, and Hess sighs at the feel of it.

Daniel is solid heat beneath him, tangible and human. The way he moves, the strength of him – pressed but not contained – makes an ugliness stir in Hess's chest. The first, icy crack of something threatening to splinter wide.

When he pulls back, Daniel is watching him.

“What –” he begins, and his voice is breathless. “What was –”

And this is what Hess wants. This. Those hazel eyes wide – not silver, not silver, not silver – and Heaven's champion strung out beneath him.

It's not a victory, he realises. Not even close. It's a weakness. A terrible, vicious longing to carve his way deep into this man's chest; to work out all the ways he could be a sinner. To pull him down, because he can. Because he wants to.

Because he can't think of anything else.

Daniel is tense beneath him, watching, waiting. For a moment his gaze slides sideways, snagging on something in the grass less than a foot away, and Hess smiles because he knows exactly what's going on in that angry, clever mind.

“You won't reach them,” he says, low and sweet. “By the time you tried to pick up the first blade, I'd have you weighted down in so many chains that the earth would swallow you whole.”

Daniel sets his jaw. “And if it took me a lifetime to claw my way back up and kill you, I would.”

He means it utterly, and the sincerity of him is thrilling.

This is the only person who can come close to understanding what it is like to stand with a hand on both sides of the scale and weigh destiny. The only one who understands the need for sacrifice; to acknowledge that the old world needs tearing down for a new one to rise.

Blood-soaked and dangerous, and the moment Hess lets him go, he's going to try and tear them both apart.

“Daniel,” he says. Then, “Sweet thing. Angelic fury. Heaven's weapon. Duty and righteousness and honour.”

“Shut up.” The flex of Daniel's fingers, the push back against Hess's grip, and it's nearly enough to unseat him. “Don't you dare –”

He's a killer through and through. Hess can see it, writ deep in the core of his soul. He kills because he has to; because it's right. He protects, and saves, and bleeds for a million souls that will never thank him for it.

And he's perfect.

“I could do so much with you,” Hess says, wondering. “The things we could accomplish.” It's a dream, sweet and tempting. He looks down, sees the slide to silver and smiles.

“But I won't,” he adds. “Because that would ruin you.”

“When I get up,” Daniel says slowly, “I'm going to slit your throat.”

“You're going to try,” Hess says, and hears the terrible adoration in his own voice; the soft fondness he shouldn't have. “But at the moment you're at my mercy.”

He tilts down again; watches the way Daniel tips up a little, without even realising. Sees the way those lips part on a slow, measured inhalation and the dark cut of Daniel's lashes, as for a moment he lets himself be moulded to Hess's will.

What he could do. What he wants to do to this man. It would take decades. Millennia.

“Beg,” he says against the soft, vulnerable skin of Daniel's temple.

Teeth at his ear, and he can feel the slow, careful snarl of those lips. The barely contained rage and want beating through sanctified veins. It makes him shiver.

“Go on,” he adds quietly; a savage demand.

A sharp twist, and he lets one of Daniel's wrists go; feels fingers sink into his hair and pull, twining them closer. The pain of it is a thing of beauty, and he smiles at the way he is going to be pulled apart, one atom at a time, for want of this man.

And Daniel draws back; turns his head a little until they are increments from a kiss, breathing the same air.

“You first,” he says.

#Path to Paradise #Hespherus Jones #Daniel Waters #Ficlet Fridays

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impossiblesuitcase · 3 years

Text

Cut, Comb, Detangle, Repeat - part ii.

Chapter 2: Comb (Out Dead Ends, To Make Way For Living)

Thorne (just now): man, its so peaceful here

Thorne: quiet

Thorne: like it was meant to be this way

Thorne: just the four of us on the farm and NO one else

Cinder sat in her solar flare, flicking the icons on her portscreen’s displayed documents. It pinged with a message—probably another from the group chat. Thorne and Cress were visiting the Benoit Farm and he spared no expense in reminding everyone else that they weren’t at the reunion. The chat had been quiet, never wanting to indulge Thorne too much, but his photos had garnered some dramatic messages from Iko and happy proclamations from Winter: “Wish we were with you!”

He had, of course, messaged her privately with some inane question about Luna politics. Their spasmodic conversations ranged from totally nonsensical to serious queries about each other’s well-being to photos of whatever they encountered during the day.

Thorne: Is thaumaturge garcia related to alexander garcia

Cinder: ???

Thorne: You know alex

Thorne: taht idol on jetsetters

Cinder: I’ve never watched it.

Thorne: but like are they related

Cinder: Considering he’s Earthen, probably not.

Thorne: is garcia a common last name on luna

Cinder: Common enough.

Thorne: why are you using proper grammar

Cinder: My retina display autocorrects everything.

Thorne: sad

Thorne: youll never have a cool comm style

Cinder: if i use my port its different

Thorne: aww

Thorne: you switched to your port just for me

Thorne: so theyre not related

Cinder: i really dont know

Thorne: what about daniel garcia??

Cinder: who

Thorne: luna citizen

Cinder: there are 128 citizens with that name on luna

Thorne continued to insist on a connection between the two, and as meaningless as the conversation was, Cinder appreciated the idle break.

Cinder felt her body slumping forward as exhaustion dragged on her. Closing her eyes to dispel the throb from the glaring lights, she lay her head on the desk with a feeling of loneliness creeping into her chest. Normally she was too busy to concentrate on being thousands of kilometres away from home, but in the quieter moments it was hard to block it all out. Especially not when she was talking to Kai, whose sincere smiles and crinkling eyes and habit of running his hands through his hair made her heart clench.

Her port buzzed with an incoming vidcomm and she accepted, not bothering to check the ID or turn her camera on.

“Man, it’s pretty dark on Luna. Complete blackness. Nothing to be seen.”

Cinder grinned goofily. “It’s what my brain looks like right now.”

“What, a no video engaged icon?”

“Nothingness. No thoughts, no comprehension.”

Kai’s chuckle warmed her chest. “And yet you speak. I’m honoured to witness it.”

“To you? Always.”

It was his turn to smile. “How are you doing?”

She lifted her head from the desk and sat up, turning on the video function while ignoring her probably haggard appearance. She doubted Kai would care.

His face brightened at seeing her. The throb behind her eyes subsided at seeing him, only to be replaced with a throb of longing in her stomach.

“Confused, tired, maybe delusional. How are you?”

“Torin’s telling me I need to sleep more, but other than that”—he lifted his hands in an extended pause—“alive and functioning.”

“What time is it?” She didn’t need to ask, as her display could bring it up in 2.3 seconds. But she missed him, and she wanted to believe asking it would pull them closer.

“Late. But I wanted to see you before I sleep.” He leaned forward, looking at her intently as if to memorise her face again. “I miss you.”

She settled back into the chair, her voice dropping in melancholy “I miss you. And you need to sleep, you have the state meeting tomorrow. Don’t let your prep to go to waste.”

“Ugh, Cinder, you’re being smart and rational when all I want to do is talk to you forever.”

They talked for forty minutes after that as Kai prepared for bed and Cinder ignored remaining royal comms. She spent half of it in her office before wandering out to the tall, ancient hallways, Kinney trailing dutifully behind her. The glass windows never cast a reflection back to her, but the mirrors placed at random intervals sought to compensate for its lack.

Cinder caught herself in one such mirror, eyeing the rumpled dress and shambled hair with indifference. She trusted Kinney and the other staff to hardly care what they thought of her physical appearance. Her personal estheticians ensured her skin was prescribed a perfectly tailored routine, but her forgetfulness meant she didn’t exactly adhere to it as well as they would have liked. Blemishes and dark circles and the occasional acne scar were on display in the absence of a glamour, but she was often praised for the authenticity rather than criticised by her subjects.

She normally opted for light pants and shirts (unless Tressa stepped in and completely vetoed her preferences), but today’s meeting with the Lunar Court had her in regal attire. The long lace sleeves reached her wrists and the pleated skirt, though rich with petticoats and chiffon, hung in a slim silhouette. She didn’t pay the getup much attention, but when passing through the portrait hall she spied something similar at the end. Cinder couldn’t help but pause at the flickering image of her mother, stuck in a perpetual smile that made it seem like she was about to start talking. It startled her every time she saw it.

Kai had his port positioned on his bathroom bench as he washed his face. He looked up at the drop in sound. “You all right, Cin?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Stuff in this place still catches me off guard.”

Kai peered closer at the screen, jumping when he noticed a sliver of the holographic Channary’s head peeking into the corner. “Ah, the creepy portrait of your mother, right?”

She flexed her jaw. “Yeah. I don’t why, but it weirds me out more than the others.” The hall was lined with kings and queens from endless generations. For as grand as the Eastern Commonwealth Palace was, its monarchy was in its infancy compared to Luna.

Kai toweled his neck. “You do look like her with your glamour. I wonder what she looked like without it.”

Cinder shifted to the left, the image changing perspective with her movement. It was eerie, to see the woman she resembled but had no tangible connection to. She felt drawn to look at it, but didn’t know why. It irked her while giving her a distinct impression of dread and longing all at once.

“I guess it’s just weird.”

“I did a double take when I saw it, but, well, it makes sense.” He buried a hand in the towel and pressed it to the bench. “She’s your mother, if anyone were ever to doubt it.”

“Dr. Erland said I looked like her,” she murmured, but turned her head to shake away the abstraction. “Anyway. The woman is dead and gone.”

Kai smiled at her. “And you are alive and well. Thankfully.”

She exited the hallway to wander the private wings and talked aimlessly with Kai. Eventually he expended his final bluffs of things he needed to do in his night routine, and finally admitted to being ready for sleep.

“You should’ve been asleep an hour ago,” she berated softly.

He glanced to the side, lips forming the slightest pout. “I wasn’t ready then.”

“Excuses, excuses.” She yawned, then slowed her steps as she watched him settle into bed. “I’ll let you go.”

His face was forlorn. “Talk tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Of course. I love you.”

He kissed his fingertips and gently pressed it to the port camera. “I love you, Cinder.”

Her heart welled up with emotion as she shut off the connection. They had said their first I love you’s months ago, and though she’d wished it had been in person, she knew they were separated for too long to conceal it.

It wasn’t late on Luna, but her heart had already gone to bed.

Feeling pensive, Cinder wandered to the door she knew she’d been approaching but pretended she hadn’t. Since the staff had first shown her here days after her coronation, Cinder had returned three times. This was the fourth, and yet she still didn’t know why some kind of magnetism attracted her back to it.

Kinney stayed by the door as it creaked open, having kept his respectful distance to not encroach on her conversation with the emperor. She crept into the room and didn’t bother to turn on the lights though the curtains were half closed. It was the same as she’d left it, in that it was the same as she’d found it the first time. Winter had told her that it used to, apparently, have a mirror until Levana stormed in and destroyed it in a fury.

Her mother, the late Queen Channary, was not remembered well in this palace. Other than being flighty, unreliable and wholly apathetic to the country’s needs, Channary was known as a selfish creature, and the memories of her outbursts on servants and merciless punishments lingered as folklore. Cinder couldn’t help it; she’d researched about her mother, scouring for details that could give her understanding.

Channary was a terrible person, evidenced enough merely by what she’d done to Levana. But whispers suggested that she had—perhaps—some sense of morality. She had taken suitors, but not through manipulation. It wasn’t fun that way, she was wont to proclaim. The same couldn’t be said of Levana, whose control over Evret had been relayed to Cinder by the Sir Garrison Clay, mourning over his dear friend. Any sympathy she’d felt for Levana’s trauma fled in her revulsion of how the sixteen-year-old princess manipulated and assaulted the grieving guard.

Cinder paced the room to the bed and sat, smoothing her hands along the untouched sheets. Though her mother was terrible, she couldn’t fight the longing in her chest for a parent. She remembered just before Dr. Erland had told her she was Selene in prison; the very idea that she could have a family, even parents still alive, had blossomed so quickly within her.

Now she knew her mother was evil, her father unknown, but she still felt the sadness of a child stripped of a loving parent.

Perhaps her hurt stemmed from what she’d discovered in examining this room. Beside the bed was the sweetest, most delicate cradle, and the realisation that her mother had cared for her personally struck a dismal chord in Cinder’s heart.

“She died of...regolith poisoning, was it?”

Kinney perked up. “Apparently so, Your Majesty. That was not revealed to the public at the time, but your freedom of information acts have made that much clear.”

She hesitated, not sure what to ask. Not sure what she wanted to know. “...Is that a painful death?”

She could let her retina display give her a full rundown on the condition, but she’d shut off her netlink. She didn’t want to know the horrible details.

“Lengthy, and painful, yes. It causes stress to the individual and their family.”

Cinder imagined her mother dying without knowing why. In pain. She couldn’t resonate with the woman, couldn’t look past her evil, but death had marked Cinder on many occasions. She knew its terror.

But Channary’s family—Selene had been her family. And according to the first hand accounts of maids and housekeepers, Channary had loved her Selene. This bassinet proved that though she may have very well been a horrible mother, she did love her daughter.

———

“Get out!” The screech reverberated off the walls, slamming into the servants as they cleared the way for the queen. She marched readily past the entourage, her face flushing red as unstoppable coughs racked her body.

Phlegm and mucus pooled into her elbow from where she was covering her mouth and soiled her sleeves. She had just reached the door of her quarters when a maid approached and extended her arm to offer Her Majesty a handkerchief.

The queen glared a thousand scalding daggers into the woman’s eyes, and with a single flick at her will, forced the woman’s hand into a choke hold—cutting off her air supply. She held it for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

Finally when the coughs threatened to claw out her throat, she released the maid and slapped the handkerchief from her hand. The woman sank to the floor, gasping for air and rubbing her throat.

The coughs grew in worse intensity, and the queen entered her room with a sharp slam of the door. She fell against the wall as the hacking persisted, becoming more and more uncontrollable. It was a despicable, dry sound that made her entire body ache and her lungs scream mercilessly at her. Though she did not know what a diaphragm was, the muscles groaned within her torso, hating her.

After agonising moments where she felt she would surely die, the villain in her throat subsided to stinging wheezes and then sore rasps for breath. Only when the sound quieted did she hear another frequency, just as loud but unheard over her debilitating cough.

The cry of a baby blended with the last remnants of croaks, and Channary finally opened her tearful eyes to source the sound. It was just below her, a tiny figure tugging on her skirt and digging into her feet.

Selene stared up at her mother, chubby cheeks red with tears and wails. The baby was over a year old now, and since she had been able to walk she had no issue toddling over to express her complaints with those in her direct vicinity. Still, she sought her mother’s attention the most.

Channary let her racing heart and the dull throb calm as much as it was willing to. Selene went on wailing, looking up to her mother and waiting for her to intervene. She scooped up her daughter but did not stand, hardly trusting her shaking arms to carry the weight. The cries turned to whimpers as Channary stroked the fine tufts of hair. Her breaths evened out, but were still short, and sent sharp stabs into her sternum.

“Now, now,” her voice cracked on every word, “there’s no need to cry.”

Selene didn’t care much, flailing her arms anywhere they could reach along Channary’s arms, neck and bosom. “Come on Leeny. Lee-ny,” she sung, her voice winded and fragile.

The baby soothed after a few minutes of Channary slowly swaying her. She sat up straighter and went to stand before another fit of coughs overtook her. Selene’s crying resumed, distressed at her mother’s affliction. When both of them fell back into manageable noise levels she stood and trudged across the room. Her feet were dead weights and her toes burned as they dragged along the carpet.

Selene gasped, her eyes redirecting to every point of interest in the room. She pointed her pudgy finger to the mirror where it reflected a rainbow onto the floor. Channary guided them over and Selene babbled as she pressed her hands to the surface, leaving grubby fingerprints on the glass.

Channary smiled at her baby’s infatuation with touching her reflection. She looked at her own and flinched at her sallow skin. She still thought she was irrefutably, untouchably gorgeous, but without a glamour she saw how sickly her appearance had become. Her body was thinner, her shoulders slumping and eyes drooping. Her lips were coarse from biting them and dark bags hung from beneath her eyes.

She still had the same high cheekbones, the same narrow vixen eyes and warmed brown skin that had never seen sunlight. Those features were mirrored in Selene, and she was proud people would see the resemblance between them. A beautiful queen could only birth a beautiful princess. Selene would be her mirror-image, a perfect copy and extension of her mother in looks and beliefs alike.

But even the consolation of artemisian families and numerous men who chirruped of her beauty could not evade the truth. Dr. Elliot had told her weeks ago, but she’d refused to accept it.

She would not admit it was her fault. That night she stole away to the outer sectors for an affair, and then met his friends, and their friends, and found herself having liaisons on the furthermost parameters of the domes a few nights a week. Apparently it wasn’t far enough.

“Mama,” Selene gabbled before it descended into drivel. Channary shifted Selene to her left arm, slow lest she set off into another coughing fit. Her eyes bored into themselves through the looking glass and Channary rested her damp cheek against her baby’s hair.

“You know Leeny,” she breathed and kissed Selene, “I think you’ll be a great queen.”

Selene spat, but Channary didn’t care about the drool now staining her bodice.

She flattened Selene’s unruly hair with a clammy palm. “Not the most beautiful queen, that will always be me.” Her hands rested atop the head for a moment longer. “But a great queen.”

Selene lifted her hand in a fist so it held Channary’s cheek in the softest punch. “You must remember that being queen is a right, okay? You must remember that, hm?”

Channary tilted her head to lean into the tiny hand, and Selene was surprised, eyes widening with heavy breaths. “Remember that…” A burning, sickening cough. “That it doesn’t matter what you do with it, as long as no one takes it away from you.”

Her eyes grew serious, imploring Selene to listen, to understand. Channary had never been book smart, and she knew people thought of her as academically unintelligent. Oh the queen is lovely to have around! they'd chatter. Such a doll, such a character. Her head’s certainly not all there though!

Channary acknowledged this happily. Why read and learn when you could drink and enjoy the luxuries you so clearly deserved?

But if she wished to give her daughter any wisdom, it would be this.

“You’ll be the queen because that is your right. And trust me my darling, they will try to snatch it from you.” Her expression soured. “They’ll try to grab every last thing they can from you, and you can’t let them.”

Selene’s mouth parted, gaping unknowingly. It was so charming it broke Channary’s resolve. “I wish I-I could be there to help you through it.”

She sank into the floor as she dissolved entirely into sobs. She’d denied that she was dying in every second, every worried glance of staff, each irate outburst as her anxiety grated on her. But here, with only her child and herself, there were no excuses, only apologies.

She had never sincerely apologised for anything in her life, each halfhearted condolence undercut by aggression or disinterest. This was her first apology. The first one she had ever meant.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, hapless and pathetic in her crumpled dress on the floor. “You’ll be alone when I should be with you, and I”— a choke escaped her scorched throat—“I’m so sorry.”

It was delirious from there on out. The room, full of useless furniture and trinkets she thought she’d use one day. The bed she’d taken men whose names and faces left her mind as quickly as a fan’s spinning blade.

The queen, always perfect and flirty and gregarious, in a teary heap on the floor.

She cried until her hateful lungs took over and Selene began to cry again. It was even more heartbreaking, that her baby was scared simply because she was. The empathy Channary had never possessed so clear in her offspring.

Channary cried until her eyes were barren, until the tears fell and coated Selene’s wispy hair. She was disarmed by her own transparency, or rather, her usual lack of it. She expressed her anger, but never her fear. People received the brunt of her aggression as a result, but she was the queen. She would be adored, whether people liked it or not.

But she didn’t care about any of them, not the court, not even her annoying sister. Selene though, she loved.

Knowing that her daughter was seeing her cry worsened it all; Selene was the only person that she loved almost as much as she loved herself. She wanted Selene to know that her mother was okay, that she would be cared for.

It wouldn’t last much longer.

The light streamed in and bounced off the mirror just over their heads. Channary buried her eyes into Selene’s hair, hoping it would hide the regret, the sorrow, the shame.

———

Cinder blinked as light cast over her face, illuminating her hair. The ends were orange in the light and the sharp flooding memory of Peony’s words stabbed into her stomach. Her retina display brought back the footage of that day that, impossible as it felt, was only three years ago. The cut had been choppy and immature, but Peony had insisted and Cinder loved her sister—her family.

There was no mirror to look into, but she knew it had grown long. The bangs were past her chin and there was no fringe to cover grease splotches. Cinder’s eye snagged on a hairbrush placed on the vanity. She strode over, her dress brushing the cradle and tinkling the little bells inside.

The brush was silver and embossed with tactile markings, smooth symbols and shapes that Cinder knew were significant but held no real meaning to her. It felt taboo to touch, to acknowledge her mother’s things. Her mother was evil and she didn’t care for her.

Maybe it’d be easier if Channary had never cared for Selene. It would be easy to discard the parent that discarded her. But her mother had loved her, kept her in her room and glowed at the prospect of her motherhood. Cinder couldn’t say that her longing excused her mother’s actions, because it didn’t. She was a torturer, an abuser.

Yet Cinder knew she grieved the childhood she’d never had. She hated that the one time a parent in her life loved her, that woman was irredeemable. No matter the circumstances, Cinder would have never had a parent who loved her that she could love back unconditionally.

Before she could stop herself, Cinder was running the brush through her hair, feeling the soft swooping and wishing she felt guilty for doing it.

———

A week later, Tressa pinned up Cinder’s hair and complained about the length. “You keep pulling on your hair like this and you’ll have permanent dead ends.”

Iko nodded from in front of Cinder as she adjusted the queen’s sash. “It could use a cut.”

Tressa plucked a pin from her lips. “I’ll schedule it in. Oh, do you want bangs?”

Cinder craned her head—to the disapproval of the girls who yelled “hold still!”—and uttered thoughtlessly: “Bangs?”

Tressa listed her head. “It’s your signature look, but it’s grown out. We can cut them again.”

Cinder almost flinched, and Iko’s acute detection scanners noticed instantly. She rested a hand on her best friend’s shoulder knowingly.

Cinder exhaled a long, measured breath. “Sure. Bangs are fine.”

The bangs were cut, and Iko smiled wistfully as they examined the look in the mirror. No words were said as Tressa pottered around, packing away tools and talking to herself. Words weren’t enough for the two, and neither could shed tears in mourning for their lost family.

But they had each other, and Iko’s cold fingers were a perfect comb for Cinder’s mousy locks. The next time Cinder returned to Channary’s room, the brush was placed back and left there.

Notes -

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

DISCLAIMER - I am in no way condoning Channary as a person. She is literally evil, and I hope I conveyed that. However, a very real experience many children have is trying to grapple with the fact that their parent is a bad person, even if they were loving.

Channary said in Fairest that "being queen is a right", so I wanted to explore that. This post is like a genius explanation so please read it.

tag list: @salt-warrior @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @just2bubbly @zephyr-thedragon

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captain-josslett · 3 years

Text

Broken Melody - Part One

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven,

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 10k+

Warnings: None... yet...

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor (Eventual)

Right! I wrote the beginning of this fic months ago. It’s going to get angsty so be ready. But the purpose of the first part is to introduce this version of B!D, a well known singer in a grammy award winning band. I honestly had a great time writing this first part!

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated.

For @thewitchandtheassassin, @natasha-danvers, @life-is-hella-unfair, @finleyfray, @supergirl-writingz,

The screeching of Emma Danver’s alarm makes her hazel green eyes shoot open. Normally on a Saturday she wouldn’t have her alarm set and would laze in bed. Especially when she is home from her latest world tour. However, today was going to be a day filled with the Superfriends, and she can’t wait!

Emma had mentioned at the latest game night that she wanted to check out a beach over an hour away from the city and how they could make a day of it. Kara, her Supergirl sister, instantly accepted the idea while bouncing up and down with excitement. Mostly everyone else agreed, happy to know the summer sun would be in full force that day.

Well they still had to persuade a few people, mainly Lena and Alex. But when Emma and Kara both knelt in front of the women with their identical Danvers pouts they were forcibly won over.

Emma smiles as she stretches and runs her hands through her wavy blonde hair. She quickly gets out of bed and opens her curtains. Sighing happily and just enjoying the sunshine blazing into her penthouse bedroom. Emma can totally see how Kara gets her Supergirl powers from the sun, how it recharges her and makes her the Woman of Steel.

After a few more minutes Emma turns and grabs her phone. While making her way to her ensuite she messages the group chat.

Emma: Gooooooodd Mmmoooorrrrnnnniiiinnnngggg!!! How’s everyone? Seriously can’t wait for today!

After having a quick shower Emma wanders back into her room and decides what to wear. She puts on her turquoise surf bikini with her tight black surfing shorts. She wears her blue jean shorts over the top, and a white tank top. She finishes her outfit off with her many bracelets, her apple watch and a layered necklace that has a star, sun and swan pendant. Symbolising each of the Danvers sisters. Alex is the star, Kara is the sun and Emma is the swan.

Swan became one of Emma’s nicknames in school due to there being a lot of Emma’s in the class. Her friends joked she was a swan princess due to doing ballet when she had asked them to come to a recital. Which they did and were in awe, but you know. Emma happily accepted the nickname, taking it as a compliment. Emma smiles as she looks at her ballet shoes strung over her mirror. ‘Another thing I need to get back into.’ Emma thinks wistfully. She still loves dancing, especially the latin styles like samba and tango. But she doesn’t have the time.

As she draws her attention to her reflection she definitely looks like a surfer chick, lean, toned and sun kissed. Which she was happily going for. She’s been dying to surf for ages but just hasn’t had the time. Her band had recently returned from a sell out world tour. And sadly most of the places they played at didn’t have beaches or the right surf. She felt sorry for her neglected surfboard in the back of the tour bus.

Her phone pings drawing her attention away from her musings. Emma laughs when she sees a few messages have already been sent.

Kara: Good morning sunshine! I’m sssoooooo excited too! Did you need me to bring anything else? I got all the food ready!

Kelly: Of course you’d have the food Kara!

Kelly: And good morning Emma! Shall I bring my swimsuit? Anyone going for a swim?

Kara: Ooo I am! And I think Emma is going to surf?

James: Why are you guys texting this early? I could have had at least another hour or more of sleep.

Alex: I agree with James… Emma, I hate you.

Emma chuckles at Alex’s message while she gets a bag ready with a change of clothes.

Emma: Love you too Alex!

Kara: Ahem… What about me?!

Emma: Love you too Kara!

Alex: You love me more though right?

Emma: No I love you both the same!

Kara: *Wink Wink*

Alex: Hey!

Nia: What am I just decoration?

Emma: No of course not Nia! I love you too!

James: What about me?

Kelly: And me!

Emma: Yes James and Kelly I love you both too.

Lena: Do you love me?

Emma pauses before she responds to Lena’s text. Honestly, she’s had a crush on her since the moment they met. But Lena is way out of Emma’s league. A CEO dating a musician and artist like Emma wouldn’t work. She’s not clever or brave like Kara or Alex.

Once when Lena had met her for lunch, Lena had explained what being a CEO entailed. Emma’s mind melted; it was so complex. Lena just laughed at her exasperated expression trying to figure it all out. “And that, my darling, is why you are an artist and I am a CEO.” Emma practically melted at Lena’s smile from across the table.

But that’s one of the things she loves about Lena, her passion for her work and drive for making the world a better place. And her smile. To Emma, Lena’s smile lights up the whole room.

Sighing Emma looks back down at her phone.

Emma: I love you the most… *Delete*

Emma: Yea I love you too. :)

‘Somewhat truthful…’ Emma thinks as she puts her phone in her pocket, grabbings her backpack, guitar case and placing it by the door. Kneeling on her sofa she pulls her surfboard up from behind, giving it a quick hug. Excitement surges through her veins at the thought of surfing the waves.

‘Rao I hope the waves are good today!’ Emma wishes as she swings the board around and accidentally knocks her recent Grammy on the floor. “Shoot!” Emma yelps and quickly drops her surfboard to pick up the award. Emma sighs in relief when she turns it over in her hands, seeing it wasn’t broken. Out of all her awards, this year's Grammy meant the most to her. The album had been a real breakthrough moment for her and the band, Axis, and they swept away the competition. Emma remembers the feeling of pride and honour when their name was called. How she and the rest of the band rushed to the stage in unison and linked arms as each said a thank you.

Emma carefully places the Grammy down and picks up her surfboard. Grabbing the rest of her stuff she locks the door behind her and takes the elevator down to her beloved yellow VW beetle. Which she affectionately calls the ‘bug’. Emma puts her stuff in the car and carefully straps the board onto the roof rack before getting into the driver's seat.

Taking her phone out she sends Lena and Kara a quick message to say she’s on her way to pick them up. Alex and Kelly are picking up Sam. Who did try and persuade Ruby to come but now as a teenager, Ruby has better things to do then hang out with her Mom and her Mom’s friends. James is giving J'onn, Nia and Brainy a ride.

Emma quickly plugs in her phone and chooses to blare out her playlist of her favourite songs. As she pulls out of the underground parking garage she starts singing and making dramatic hand movements as she dances along. Not caring if people see her.

Soon she’s outside Lena’s apartment building and as she turns the music down Lena Luthor herself was exiting the building. Emma’s mouth drops open with how beautiful Lena looks. And how different she looks too! Gone were the suits and smart wear of a CEO. Instead Lena was wearing a thigh length red patterned skirt that matched her red lips with a black crop top. To finish the look off she wore a black bowler hat.

When Lena opens the passenger door Emma quickly closes her mouth.

“Hi Em!” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde and leans over to place a kiss on Emma’s cheek. Making the blonde blush and causing her brain short circuits.

“Hi Lee!” Emma says more high pitched than normal.

Lena grins at her in amusement. ‘Rao I could get lost in those green eyes.’

“Er, Em… We gonna go?” Lena teases causing Emma to jump and pull away from the pavement. “So, how has your week been?”

“Fine. Got a commission to complete before Thursday but I’m almost done. I actually have to thank you, it's the lovely couple we met at the recent gala we went to.”

Whenever Emma is back in the city Lena always invites her to the gala’s. Surprisingly Emma finds she enjoys them, especially when it's one of Lena’s charity events. Lena and Emma are both thrilled to find Emma has a talent in being able to persuade the rich attendees to donate their money. Even from those who have never donated before. “It’s the Danvers charms!” Emma would laugh and wink at Lena when the raven haired women would be dumbfounded at the cheque in her hand from a rival.

“Mr and Mrs Green?” Lena asks, remembering how the couple were enthralled with Emma’s work as an artist and musician. Their donation had been one of the biggest of that night. ‘No surprise there.’ Lena smirks.

“Yea them.” Emma nods while concentrating on driving. She does love the city life but driving through it can be such a pain.

“What did they ask for?” Lena inquires while picking at a loose thread in her skirt.

“Mainly a seascape of a view they had back in the UK. Thatchers rock… I think.” To be honest Emma had been surprised by the Green’s enthusiasm when she showed them her portfolio. How they were willing to wait for Emma’s tour to finish before getting their commission. It had been made easier that there was a reference to work on. Even though she has never been to that part of the UK. Mainly the cities dotting around the island. And even though Emma doesn’t need the money she enjoys doing something different. Her art gives her another escape.

“What style are you doing it in?” Lena asks as she bobs her head along with Emma to the music. Something she’s never done before until getting rides with Emma. Something about the blonde’s carefree attitude rubbing off on her.

“I’m using oil this time. I think it works better with the layering and it can really make the sea look like it’s moving you know? Well… If I get it right.” Emma realises she started to ramble and quickly cuts herself off. Certain Lena wouldn’t want to hear the techniques Emma has been using. “If all goes to plan the painting should look different with the different lighting of the day.”

“I am sure you will darling.” Lena smiles widely at her.

Emma smiles back. Feeling butterflies zoom round her stomach at the term of endearment.

“Thanks Lee.” Emma taps her thumbs to the beat while they wait for a light to turn green.

“How-”

“How’d-”

They both stop when they realise they both started talking.

“You go.” Emma motions Lena to continue.

“How’s everything going with the band?”

“It’s going really, really well! We are already writing songs for the next album. But we’ve also really benefited having this time off too.” Emma grins thinking of the other band members.

In some ways they’ve become another little family to her. The four other guys were already formed and were looking for a female influence. Emma saw the flyer and thought ‘why not!’ before calling them and doing an audition. The guys were blown away by her voice and talent. Unanimously they agreed she can become a member of the band and ultimately making her the lead singer. That was over eight years ago when Emma was eighteen and Axis were well known in certain areas of America but when Emma joined their popularity skyrocketed.

However fame didn’t matter to Emma, but she loves performing and writing music. Especially when she gets fan messages about how her songs have helped someone get through a difficult time and gave them hope. She always makes sure to save those messages.

“Sounds exciting.” Lena agrees, nodding her head.

“Speaking of deals.” Emma pauses to concentrate on the traffic. “How’d the deal with the Japanese go?”

Even though Emma wasn’t looking at Lena she could feel the big eye roll the raven haired beauty did.

“That good huh?” Emma jokes but feels for the CEO.

“Honestly it was a nightmare. They kept going around in circles and I’m just getting over the migraine!” Lena dramatically rubs her forehead. Which Emma misses from looking at the road.

“Ah no.” Emma frowns as she quickly looks at Lena. “Are you sure you’re okay to come to the beach?”

“Yes I’m fine.” Lena smirks at Emma’s concern.

“Okay, I am glad you’re coming.” Emma smiles brightly back.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Did I have a choice?” Lena teases.

“Yes! But it would have made me very sad if you hadn’t.” Emma pouts dramatically and pulls off her best puppy dog eyes.

“And that’s why I said yes.” Lena chuckles at how adorable Emma looks.

Soon they pull up to Kara’s building and she’s already waiting outside. Piles of bags by her feet. Both Lena and Emma laugh at the sight. “Joys of being Supergirl I guess!” Emma jokes about Kara’s metabolism.

As she parks Emma can’t help but remember the day Kara became a part of the Danvers family.

Emma had taken to the alien quicker then Alex, especially as there was only a year age difference between the two blondes. She also found she became the bridge between Alex and Kara. Over time the three learned how to live with the new dynamic and would soon enjoy each other's company. Kara and Alex would laugh when little Emma would cheerfully yell that they were the three musketeers as they played with wooden swords or practically any activity that involved the three of them. Even making hot chocolate together.

When Kara became Supergirl Emma almost had a fit. She’d been in New York for a sold out week of gigs when she had seen the news in the early hours of the morning. Frantically she called Kara to see if she was okay and getting even more frantic when she realised Alex had been on the plane too. The two sisters were eventually able to calm her down after a lot of sobbing and panic from her end. When Emma returned to National City she held onto her sisters a lot tighter that day. Eventually the three ended up falling asleep together on the sofa. Emma in the middle of the two as they wrapped their arms around each other.

Emma’s musings were interrupted when Kara slammed the car boot down hard. Causing the car to bounce.

“Careful Kara!” Emma yells, knowing full well her sister would hear her.

“Sorry little one! I’m just so excited!” Kara squeals as she opens the backseat door before leaping in.

“Hey I’m only a year younger than you!” Emma frowns into the rear view mirror to glare at her sister. Who just sticks her tongue back at her while clicking in her seat belt.

They continue the hour long drive to the beach, chatting and singing along to Emma’s playlist. Lena watches on in amazement as Kara sings the melody and Emma does some beautiful harmonies around her. They all laugh and cheer when Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ comes on.

“Come on Lena! Join in!” Emma yells while she puts the volume right up. So Lena does. When the rock part of the song comes on all three of them dance and headbang along. Lena laughs as she feels so carefree. She pauses when Emma starts singing passionately to the next verse.

So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye So you think you can love me and leave me to die Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Honestly she could listen to Emma’s voice for hours. Which is probably why she secretly went to as many of Emma’s gigs as possible. But every time she would go to reveal herself to Emma she would back peddle and leave. Knowing that someone as talented as Emma was way out of her league. Her pride for her friend as she watched with the Superfriends at Kara’s apartment as Axis won Grammy after Grammy, award after award. How they screamed with joy and hugged each other after each announcement. Plus Lena thought someone as pure and happy as Emma wouldn’t do well with someone broken like Lena. So she keeps her feelings to herself and tries to be content with being Emma’s friend.

Lena’s heart warms as she remembers meeting Emma for the first time over 3 years ago. She had been at one of her first game nights with the Superfriends when a knock sounded on Kara’s door. Everyone had looked at each other in surprise as no one was missing. Lena watched Kara bounce towards the door and as she opened it a continuous scream of surprise and happiness escaped Kara’s mouth. This caused Alex to rush over in response and suddenly scream as well. The two sisters practically tackled the blonde beauty out into the hallway where they fell into a laughing heap. Kara kissed the blonde’s head over and over while Alex held onto her like a koala bear and kissed her cheek over and over.

Finally they untangled and Kara dragged the other blonde into her apartment. Excitedly introducing everyone to her little sister, Emma. The Superfriends each individually greeted the newcomer and when it came to Lena’s turn Emma had stepped forward and gave her an affectionate hug. Laughing that Kara has told Emma so much about her that she feels she already knows Lena well. When Emma stepped away from the hug they both ignored the warm feelings racing around their bodies. Lena had to agree as both the Danvers sister’s spoke of Emma fondly and how proud they were of Emma’s success. Lena hadn’t told anyone this but she bought all of Emma's music to listen to it after Kara gushed about her sister. She instantly fell in love with the voice coming through the speakers.

Kara soon asked why Emma was in National City and Emma excitedly revealed that Axis was moving to National City. Lena again ignored the feeling of excitement that shot through her. And again Emma was tackled to the floor as both Alex and Kara leapt towards her in celebration.

“Lena?” Kara’s voice breaks through her thinking and Lena turns to look back at her best friend. Listening intently as Kara excitedly explains a new prototype Brainy is designing to help Kara not be so affected by Kryptonite.

“Maybe I can help with it?” Lena offers kindly.

Kara’s smile brightens up even more. “That would be swell!”

Lena gives Kara a small smile before turning back to the front. To be honest it still stings that Kara didn’t tell her Supergirl secret to the CEO. It had been two years after Emma had moved back to National City when Lena and Kara were having lunch but Kara was being called away. Again. Lena couldn’t stop herself and blurted out she knew Kara’s secret. She will never forget how Kara’s face fell and the promise of talking about it after she’s finished. Lena’s face grew cold as her walls shot up. She told Kara not to bother and stormed out of the restaurant to her penthouse apartment. She refused to see anyone or answer her phone. Allowing her past hurts and hatred to simmer and boil.

That was until a knock sounded on her door. She chose to ignore it but the knocking persisted.

“Come on Lena, please open the door. Let’s talk about this.” Emma’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

“Why should I?” Lena spits out as she draws closer, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Because you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Lena scoffs. “And why not?”

“Because you’ll allow your demons to lie to you and it will eat you up.” Emma had experience with this herself.

Tears fill Lena’s eyes and against the screaming in her head she reaches out and opens the door.

“Hey you.” Emma gives Lena a small smile before stepping into the apartment. Placing the takeout bags on the floor and pulling Lena into a tight hug. Allowing Lena to break down as she sobs into Emma’s shoulder. All her past hurts rushing forward and spewing out.

After she was spent Emma gently led her to the sofa and reheated the food. Making sure Lena ate. They talked long into the night and when Lena started rubbing her eyes from exhaustion Emma helped her get ready for bed. As Lena slid between the sheets Emma leaned down to give her a goodnight hug. But stopped when Lena wouldn't let her go. “Stay.” Lena whispered. So Emma grabbed a pair of her spare clothes she left for times like this and got in next to her. Lena shifted over to her and rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. Emma wrapped her arms around Lena and held her close. They don’t say anything more but drift into a peaceful sleep.

“We’re here!” Emma sings out, causing Lena to jump slightly. They pull into a car park right next to the beach.

“Oh wow!! Look at the sea! It’s so beautiful!” Kara gasps as she presses herself against the window and like an excited child she unbuckles and races towards the beach. Having already spotted Alex, Kelly and Sam setting up.

Emma snorts at her sister’s behaviour while she unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Er… She will help us with the food? Right?” Lena looks back at the overflow of food bags in the back of the bug.

“Yea as soon as she realises she will shoot back up here.” Emma chuckles while getting out of the car. And Kara did just that as Emma went to pay for a parking ticket she watched Kara race back up to them, in human speed. “Glad to see you helping.” Emma raises an eyebrow at her sister as Kara reaches the bug.

“Sorry! I just got really excited! It’s so beautiful here!” Kara bounces like a puppy.

“Now you understand why I dragged you here instead of going to the beach at NC?” Emma says while carefully unstrapping her board before lowering it and leaning it up against the bug.

“Yes, yes.” Kara keeps her eyes on the beach.

“Hey.” Emma smirks at her distracted sister.

“Yea?” Kara tears her eyes away to look at Emma. Smiling when Emma opens are arms and they hug. “Haven’t been able to give you one yet.” Emma says in her ear. Kara buries her face into Emma’s neck, enjoying the warmth and feeling of home whenever she hugs her sisters.

The car door closing makes them break apart. “Okay I think that’s everything.” Lena says while looking at the small mountain of bags.

“Thanks Lena!” Kara sings as she grabs half of the bags before Emma can tell her to only take a few. Hopefully no one will question how a slim woman can carry that much weight. Lena catches Emma’s eye and they both roll their eyes at each other.

“Jink!” Emma yells causing Lena to do another eye roll. Before Emma can reach down for her stuff Lena steps forward.

“Can I have a hug too?”

“Sure you can Lee.” Emma opens her arms wide and Lena almost tackles her with her enthusiasm. They both sigh happily as they hold onto each other a bit longer than necessary. Emma breaks the hug and steps back, grabbing her backpack, placing a few food bags on her shoulders picking up her guitar, and securing her surfboard under her arm. “Oh Lee don’t take that many, Kara will come up and get the last few.”

“Okay.” Lena nods while swinging a food bag on each of her shoulders and they start walking towards the beach. “Kara is right though, it’s really beautiful here.”

Emma smiles at her, happy Lena approves. The sand was a beautiful white which made the sea clear and looked like a gorgeous turquoise and teal. The richness of the colours makes Emma want to weep with happiness. They could pretend like they were in the Caribbean or on the Hawaiian islands.

“Hey Peanut!” Alex yells as Emma approaches her.

Peanut has always been Alex’s nickname for Emma since their parents told three year old Alex she was going to be a big sister. Alex had been fascinated about it all and when her Mom had told her the baby was the size of a peanut the name stuck. Even when Emma grew and was the size of tennis ball Alex would still refer to the baby as Peanut.

“Hey sis!” Emma yells back, dumping her stuff on one of the picnic blankets. Alex comes over and pulls Emma into a tight hug, quickly followed by Kelly and Sam. “Been a long time Sam, how are you?”

“I know I’m sorry!” Sam says as she takes a step back. “Life’s been hectic!”

“Oh don’t I know it.” Emma laughs. “Maybe you can ask your boss to allow you to have a life?” Emma teases while giving Lena a pointed look.

“Not my problem she wants to work longer hours then she is contracted!” Lena places her hands on her hips.

“Maybe she’s following her boss's example? And maybe the boss needs to cut down too? Maybe relax a bit?” Emma stalks towards her crush.

“Maybe-” Lena stops what she was going to say and tilts her head as she watches Emma approach. A smirk on her face. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly Emma reaches out and starts tickling Lena who laughs loudly and tries to swat the blonde away.

“Lena! She’s ticklish too!” Alex snickers as she goes through the food bags.

“Traitor!” Emma yells as Lena starts her own assault. The two women fall to the sand in fits of giggles as they wrestle. Before Emma can gain the upper hand Lena straddles her and continues tickling her. “No! Lena!” Emma kicks out trying to shift the woman on top of her. But Lena was not budging. “Argh! I surrender! Please!” Emma wheezes.

“I win?" Lena stops and gazes down at Emma triumphantly.

“You win.” Emma coughs and when Lena moves off her she instantly misses the feeling of Lena’s weight on top of her.

“Are you ladies done or are you going to help?” Alex raises her eyebrow at them as they catch their breath.

“Yes ma'am.” Emma salutes before getting up, rubbing the sand off herself and reaching out to help Lena up. They smirk at each other and set to work getting the rest of the blankets and chairs out for the Superfriends.

Soon the other group arrives and they all sit chatting and relaxing. The men start setting the BBQ up, insisting they can do it, much to the amusement of the women as they try to do it without looking at the instructions.

Alex, Kara and Emma smile at each other as they share a look before giggling. The Danvers sisters have barbecuing in the great outdoors down to an art. But if it keeps the men happy they stay quiet. Sighing Emma turns away from the entertainment and looks out to sea, watching the waves and the surfers riding them.

Alex shuffles up to her, resting her head on Emma’s shoulder. “You can go if you want.”

Emma rests the side of her head on her sister’s. “I know, but the waves aren’t quite right yet.”

“Okay.” Alex wraps her arms around Emma, who returns the gesture and holds onto Alex. Emma moves her head and kisses Alex’s head before resting her own on Alex’s again.

Alex smiles and kisses Emma’s hand that's holding her close. At first Alex wasn’t too keen on the idea of coming to the beach, too much work to do at the DEO and an hour travelling seems like an eternity. But Alex is glad she came. They sit content.

“How can you tell if the waves are not right?” Brainy asks, having left J'onn and James to sort out the BBQ.

Emma looks up at him. “I don’t know, you just can. It’s a feeling.” Emma runs a hand through her hair trying to think of a better way to explain it. “Like when you are out there you know a big wave is coming, the wave. You just got to be patient and take the moment when it comes.”

Brainy tilts his head at her. “I think I understand.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” Alex snorts and yelps when Emma playfully slaps her bare arm.

“Oh come on I didn’t slap you that hard!” Emma laughs but rubs her sister’s arm.

“Anyone wanna play rounders?” Lena asks the group as she picks up one of her bags. She pulls out a rounders bat, which is shorter than a baseball bat, and ball.

“Rounders?” Kara asks, confused. “Don’t you mean baseball?”

“No, I mean rounders, it’s what we played at my boarding school. It’s the game that baseball came from. The first known account of it was in 1744 with the Tudors.” Half of the group look at Lena blankly, while the other half look interested and know who the Tudors are. “Basically you still have four bases, home runs etc. The bowler must do underarm, though we can do overarm…” Lena pauses. “It’s just different okay?”

“Sounds good to me!” Sam leaps to her feet and starts setting the four bases up. Everyone else follows suit and splits into teams, Lena and Sam being the captains of each team. On Lena’s team is Kara, James, Alex and Emma versus Sam’s team which has Kelly, J'onn, Brainy and Nia.

After a coin toss Lena’s team bats first with Sam being the bowler, or pitcher, as Alex yells out.

“And can we make a rule of no powers? We don’t want the ball getting batted into space!” Sam jokes as she jogs to bowler base.

“Sounds fair.” Kara says looking at J'onn who nods in agreement. She gets into position to bat. She hits the ball no problem and starts to run, but she hits the ball too high and Brainy is already waiting to catch it.

“Out!” Sam yells as Brainy holds the ball in his hand, causing Kara to skid to a halt. She turns and walks back to the team, kicking the sand as she goes.

“Hard luck sis.” Alex rubs Kara’s back when she comes back to the line up. Pouting all the way. Emma gives her a hug and kisses her cheek.

“You’ll do it next time.” Emma reassures her.

They watch James get into position and hit quite a good ball. He manages to get to third base before having to stop when Nia catches the ball while on 4th base.

Lena is the next to go and Emma can’t help but watch as she sways her hips getting ready to strike. Her ball goes low and far. She sprints off and her team screams and cheers when she manages to do a home run.

“Nicely done Lee!” Emma holds her hand out to high five the out of breath CEO.

“Thanks.” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde while holding onto her hand longer than necessary.

Alex is up next, feeling the pressure of going after Lena’s home run.

“You got this babe!” Kelly smiles from the 2nd base. Alex smiles back at her before readying herself. She misses the first ball.

“Strike 1!”

Huffing Alex gets back into position again. And misses.

“Strike two!”

“You got this Al!” Emma claps and encourages her sister.

Taking a deep breath Alex readies herself and watches the ball. She manages to hit it and sprints to 2nd base.

“Nice to see you Alex!” Kelly teases the red head causing Alex to gently shove her girlfriend.

“Right you’re up Emma!” Sam calls as she catches the ball.

Emma picks the bat up, wiping the sand off it and stands in position. Noticing the opponents are standing mainly to the left, Emma decides to trick them. When Sam throws the ball she quickly turns her body and whacks the ball to the right side of the field far away from the group. She runs half the way and seeing Brainy is still running to the ball she walks the rest of the way, dancing and blowing kisses. She starts sprinting the last few feet as the ball is being thrown towards Nia. The team celebrates her home run and they play a few more rounds, having a few collisions and lots of laughter. They have two more goes each and swap over. Lena takes over as the bowler. “Pitcher!” Alex yells as she runs to man 2nd base.

The new batting team does just as well and Sam’s team are one point behind. J’onn is up as the last batter, it’s all on him. If he gets a home run Sam’s team has won the game. Emma watches the ball carefully as Lena throws it and in a split second it's coming right at her. She reaches out her hand and catches it. Everyone stares dumbfoundead before yelling in surprise and either excitement from winning or groans for losing.

Emma’s team crowd her and she laughs at the attention.

“Emma?” A voice says behind her.

Emma’s head shoots round and she smiles when she sees her bandmates standing there.

“Guys?” She rushes towards them. Emma had told them of her plans and had invited them to join. They had said they were busy so it's a huge surprise to Emma that they stood in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“We are… Wanted to talk to you.” Jack, the guitarist and other singer, says before he looks at the Superfriends behind Emma, watching them intently. “Alone.”

“Sure.” Emma shrugs, she turns back to Lena and throws her the ball. Emma walks with her bandmates along the beach until they are far enough away. Though Emma is sure Kara can still hear them. “So, whats up? Everything okay?”

“Er… So about that-” Danny, the drummer, starts but rubs his neck. Feeling very awkward. Frankie, the keyboardist, doesn’t make eye contact with Emma and shuffles his feet in the sand.

Mick interrupts. “We want to leave the band.”

Emma’s mind screeches to a halt. “Leave? All of you?”

“Yea Em. Just with Jack getting engaged, Frankie’s Dad being ill and Danny’s baby is due. We just don’t have the same drive like you do.” Mick looks sadly at her. “We are a great team, but it’s just not the same. After moving to National City we realised we want to settle, have families, the whole white picket fence thing.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, biting her lips to stop the tears threatening to fall. “What about the new album? We’ve already written most of the songs.”

“You don’t need us Em. You are the front runner and can do this with anyone.” Jack tries to reassure her.

“But they won’t be you.” Emma’s heart starts to break when she looks at the finality in each of their eyes. “And… And nothing I can say will change your minds?”

Her four bandmates shake their heads.

“Okay.” Emma looks up at the sky, taking a deep breath before looking back at the men in front of her. “Well, can we do a farewell tour?”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Danny smiles sadly at her and the other three nod.

“Can we give you a hug?” Jack asks quietly, hating seeing Emma so defeated.

Emma nods and they go in for a long group hug. But as the tears start to spill Emma breaks the hug and rushes back to the Superfriends. Ignoring any questions, she throws off her clothes and jewellery and grabs her board. Sprinting to the surf and diving into the sea.

She paddles quickly, still hearing voices, most likely Kara and Alex, calling after her. But she drowns it out by duck diving under a wave as it rolls over her and she resurfaces. Emma continues further out past the swell where she can stop and just lie there. Letting the board bob as she gazes at the horizon. Emma allows her tears to fall. Her face distorts with her disappointment and hurt.

‘What am I going to do?’ Emma thinks. She gets why the guys want to leave. Knowing this would happen one day. Or at least a break, but it still hurts. ‘Since when did it change for them?’ Emma stays like this for a while, lost in her own thoughts.

Some time later splashing behind her makes her turn her head and she sits up. A wet laugh breaks through her lips when she sees Kara and Alex balancing on a paddle board trying to reach her. Alex particularly looks like how a cat would look in this situation. On her knees and very tense having come to a very deep part of the beach. Alex doesn’t like not being able to touch the bottom, or see it. Kara is using the paddle, obviously using a bit of her super strength with how quickly they are going.

“What you laughing at?” Alex snaps.

“Nothing.” Emma smiles sadly at her while wiping the tears from her face. She swings her legs around and places them either side of the board. When the paddle board comes alongside Emma’s, Kara moves to sit down. Causing Alex to shriek as the board rocks dangerously. Emma reaches out and steadies it while trying not to laugh.

“Sorry Alex!” Kara apologises before turning her attention to Emma. “You okay?”

Immediately Emma’s smile drops and her eyes fill with tears again. She furiously rubs her eyes to stop them. “Yea fine.”

“No you’re not.” Alex sighs, hating seeing her sister look so unhappy.

“Guessing you heard?” Emma looks at Kara who nods sadly. Crinkle on her forehead evident of her concern. Emma looks down at her hands, not able to look at her sisters anymore. “I just… I get why…” Emma exhales deeply. “It just hurts you know. We are so in sync with each other and I honestly can’t imagine having to restart all that again.”

“But you will.” Alex reaches out and touches Emma’s linked hands. “Because your voice, your music needs to be heard Em.”

“Yea it's one of my favourite sounds, like ever.” Kara agrees. “But you know you will always have us, right?”

Emma nods, allowing a few more tears to fall.

Alex reaches out and wipes the tears from Emma’s cheeks. “And yes it sucks right in this moment but you will get through this. We will both help you through this.”

“Totally.” Kara agrees.

“Thanks.” Somehow Alex manages to hug Emma without falling in and Kara joins them.

Right on queue Kara’s stomach rumbles. “Oh and lunch is ready.”

“Uh oh the monsters coming.” Emma smirks as she looks at her alien sister.

“Race ya?!” Kara jumps to her feet making the board rock dangerously and had Emma not been holding Alex the red head would have fallen in. After making sure her sisters were okay Emma waves them off.

“Nah, you go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

Emma watches her sisters go, hoping Kara has enough control not to cause Alex to fall in too far from the beach. She keeps her eyes fixed on them, slowly following in case Alex needed her. But when they reach the shore Emma lets out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Emma chuckles when Kara returns the paddle board they borrowed to get to her.

Shaking her head Emma starts slowly paddling into the swell and waits, her board moving with the ocean. Suddenly she feels a shift. Emma lies on her stomach and starts paddling hard. She smiles as her board gets picked up by the huge wave. Whooping as her board flies through the tube, she reaches out and skims her hand along the break. She comes out the other end and using the momentum turns her board, shooting her closer to the beach. Until finally her board slows down and she jumps off, wading the short distance to the shore.

“Hey!” A surfer approaches her, smiling flirtatiously. His brunette hair slicked back from the sea.

“Hi.” Emma responds while picking up her board.

“That was a sweet wave you just did!” His enthusiasm makes Emma smile.

“Thanks, kind of wish it went on forever.” She admits, cause really there was nothing like going through the tube of a wave. The colours and sounds were breathtaking.

“Ah man I know right?!” He laughs. “So, I was wondering if I could have your number?”

“EMMA!” She turns to look at Kara who is waving her arms about wildly. Most likely due to Alex saying she can’t eat until Emma joins them.

“Thank you but I’m kind of not available. Sorry.”

“No worries at all.” He looks slightly disappointed but still smiles.

“EMMAAAAAA!!!”

Emma laughs at how Kara’s yells got even louder. “Well I better go, don’t want my sister getting any more hangry.” Emma starts to walk back to the group.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma.” He calls after her.

Emma swings round but continues walking backwards. “You too.” She turns back around, smiling and shaking her head.

As soon as Emma gets near, Kara is loading her plate up at top, human, speed. Emma chuckles at the sight and digs the end of her board into the sand before taking the leash off and flopping onto the picnic blanket.

“Who was that?” Kelly asked across from her. Lena pretends she isn’t listening in as she gets some food.

“Oh just some guy congratulating me on my sweet wave.” Emma imitates the guy's accent which makes them laugh.

“And he wanted her number!” Kara teases while she sits next to Emma.

Whistles and ooo’s sound around the group. Alex watches bemused as Lena purses her lips before going back to a neutral expression.

“So where’s the number?” Sam asks excitedly, not missing Lena’s rigid posture.

“Meh, not my type.” Emma tries to play it off cooly while she grabs her top and shorts to change into again. Not minding that they will get a bit damp as the sun is out in full blaze. She also applies her suncream handing it around and reminding everyone to keep it topped up.

“Since when has hunky surfer boy not been your type?” Kara asks confused as she focuses on the surfer. “Honestly I could grate cheese on his abs!”

“Kara!” Emma laughs loudly while she dishes up a plate of food.

“You also said you weren’t available,” Kara presses on, missing the looks Alex was giving her. “Who's the lucky guy or gal?” Emma had come out as bisexual when she was a young teenager. Her Mom and sister’s supported her and Emma was glad she could do the same for Alex when she came out to her. Alex had even flown out specially to where Emma was gigging to tell her. At first Emma was really worried when Alex avoided eye contact and was nervously fidgeting in her seat. When Alex finally blurted it out Emma held her sister close. Saying how proud she was of her and her love for her sister hadn’t changed.

“No one, I just wanted to get him off my back.” Emma says nonchalantly but inside she was freaking out. She’d said it because yes she wasn’t available because her heart belonged to Lena.

Kelly gives Alex a look and watches as Emma settles in-between Lena and Kara under the umbrella they were sitting under. Alex doesn’t miss how much closer Emma sits to Lena than her sister.

The Superfriends continue talking and when everyone has finished eating they split off to do their own thing. Alex and Kelly go for a walk, mainly to come up with a plan to get Emma and Lena together. While Kara, J'onn, Sam, Nia, Brainy and James play volleyball. Girls and against boys. “Original.” Emma mutters causing Lena to snort.

Lena and Emma opt to stay with everyones stuff. Lena is happy to sit back against the pile and read a book she’s been wanting to read for months but never had the chance.

Emma sighs as she looks at her guitar case. Twiddling her thumbs for a moment she draws her knees to her chest and watches the waves. But not feeling quite ready to get back in.

After half an hour Lena puts her book down and focuses on Emma. “Something on your mind?” Lena asks, nudging her shoulder into Emma, causing the blonde to sway.

“Guessing Kara told you?” Emma keeps her eyes fixed in front of her.

“Yes, she was relaying what was being said.” Lena says apologetically.

“It’s okay. Makes it easier in a way.” Sighing heavily Emma turns to look at Lena. Who is watching her with concern. “I just don’t know what to do. I need to look for new bandmates, but that just seems so daunting. Can I really go through that all again?” Emma runs her hands through her hair. Huffing she looks back into emerald eyes. “Okay if we don’t talk about it? Just enjoy what we have right now?”

“And what do we have?”

“Great company, good food and a wonderful view.” Emma motions to the beach around them.

“Yea, I can do that.” Lena keeps her eyes on Emma.

“Go back to your book Lee. I’ll be fine.” Emma tries to smile reassuringly.

Lena doesn’t buy it but starts reading again. She watches Emma from the corner of her eye as she shuffles over to her guitar case, opening it and pulling the guitar out, making sure it is in tune.

Emma gets her songbook out of her case, opening the page to a song she had started writing. Making sure she doesn’t hit Lena with her guitar Emma settles back down. Grabbing her phone she hits record and starts plucking. Softly singing to herself.

Tell me somethin', girl Are you happy in this modern world? Or do you need more? Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?

Emma pauses as she remembers a chorus of a song she’s been working on. She quickly flips to that page and moves her fingers to find the chords. She continues to play. Not realising her soft singing has steadily got louder.

I'm falling

Emma sees Lena in her mind as she sings. Her pain at falling for her friend and not having the courage to take it deeper.

In all the good times I find myself Longin' for change And in the bad times I fear myself

Sighing Emma looks at the sea before turning her head slightly to look at the raven haired beauty. Whose focus is on the book in front of her. Returning her attention to her notebook Emma keeps playing and singing.

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in I'll never meet the ground Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us We're far from the shallow now

Lifting her head she focuses on the sea again.

In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow In the shallow, shallow We're far from the shallow now.

Emma pauses and stops the recording. Running a hand through her hair which starts getting more wavy from getting wet.

“Wow Em.” Lena breathes out.

Emma turns to Lena who put the book next to her. “You like that?”

“Yes, seriously… I don’t have the words.”

“Thanks, it’s not really finished. It needs another verse…” Emma goes through her notebook but comes up empty. Replaying the first verse Emma closes her eyes to figure out the words for the second verse.

Tell me something, boy

“What rhymes with boy?” Emma mutters to herself. “Toy? No… Void?”

Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Emma sighs as she remembers friends she has lost due to depression and addiction. Knowing how hard it is to feel whole and get out of the pit.

Or do you need more? Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?

She sings through the bridge and the chorus again, making sure it all fits. But to her horror she realises she stopped the recording.

“Crap!” Looking down her phone wasn’t where she left it. Instead it's in Lena’s hand.

“I could see you didn’t press record so I did it for you.” Lena answers Emma’s questioning gaze as she presses the button to stop the recording.

“Thanks Lee.” Emma takes her phone and grabs her pen, listening to the recording and writing the song out in full with the chords.

Lena watches Emma. “Do you usually write songs that quickly?” Lena asks, fascinated.

Emma laughs in response. “No, not usually. I guess I was more inspired.” She shrugs, placing her guitar back in the case with her notebook. She shuffles back over to Lena. “Can I?”

Lena looks up and nods, letting Emma lean down, resting her head in Lena’s lap. They do this quite often and it always makes Lena’s heart skip a beat. Slowly she puts her book down beside her and runs a hand through Emma’s hair. Looking at the view and doing what Emma said, enjoying the moment.

Time passes on and Emma watches the group playing volleyball. Kelly and Alex have joined them, Kelly staying with the girls while Alex went over to the boys side. Emma smirks when Kara would not so sneakily use her powers to gain an advantage.

But Emma’s attention diverted back to the sea, the tide was coming in and the swell had gotten bigger. Turning her head to look up at Lena Emma pauses. Her eyes linger on Lena’s chest before taking in her profile. ‘Rao she’s so beautiful.’

“Okay if I catch a few more waves?” Emma asks, finding her voice.

Looking down Lena smiles. “Sure.”

“Thanks Lee.” Emma sits up and presses a kiss to Lena’s cheek. As Emma takes her clothes off she grabs her board and runs to the surf. Lena touches her flushed cheek and smiles softly.

Soon the volleyball group end their game, the boys team winning by a few points. They head back to their set up, laughing at how both J'onn and Kara leapt for the ball, only to miss it completely.

“Hi Lena!” Kara says while sitting next to her best friend. “How's the book?”

“It’s…” Lena looks down at the book and realises she’s only got through part of the first chapter. Her attention had mainly been watching Emma surf. “Slow.”

“Ah I hate it when that happens!” Kara hands Lena a drink while they sit and watch Emma. Who had just gone through another tube, much to the excitement of the surfers watching in the shallows. “I don’t know how she makes it look so easy!”

“It’s one of her many talents.” Lena agrees, though there is always a feeling of anxiety whenever anyone she cares for is in any body of water.

“Totally.” Kara says before sighing sadly.

“Kara?” Lena asks concerned for the Super.

“I just… She’s worked so hard. I know she will come back from this, but when Alex and I got to her she… She just looked so broken.” Kara sighs again. Worry filling her eyes as she watches her sister.

“She didn’t want to talk about it. But said how daunting it is to find new bandmates. Which I can understand.” Lena knows how hard it is to make friends in general.

“Yea it’s not the easiest of processes. She needs to click with them, for them to become in sync with each other and then get on with them. How they managed to drive around in that tour bus all over America and later the world is beyond me!” Kara says with wide eyes, she had joined Emma for a few gigs and thankfully the venues weren’t too far from each other. But Kara found the journey long and boring.

“Kara, anything slower then you flying is beyond you!” Lena's teasing causes Kara to laugh loudly.

“True!”

They continue watching Emma who attempts a few aerial tricks. The spray of the sea flying high above her. “She wrote a really beautiful song just now.”

“Really?” Kara perks up and Lena nods. “Think she’ll play it for us?”

“Maybe.” Lena hopes Emma does. She really wants to hear it again.

While Emma still surfs the Superfriends play UNO. Laughing at how competitive Alex is getting and only getting calmed down when Kelly gives her a gentle kiss.

As the sun starts to slowly descend Emma finally gets out of the sea. Waving goodbye to a group of surfers she had been talking to.

She notices a fire has been built in the centre of the Superfriends circle and a few of them are roasting marshmallows.

Emma’s body is completely shattered but she smiles at the feeling. Making a note to come back here as much as she can. Even if the weather isn’t perfect like today.

The Superfriends greet her while she grabs her stuff to change. Alex stands and uses one of the blankets to block anyone’s view of Emma. Kara joins in and goes to the other side. Emma scoffs knowing full well she can change without showing anything and there has been no paparazzi bothering her.

Finally dry and feeling much warmer Emma sits next to Lena and places her head on her shoulder. She can’t help but yawn and let her eyes drift.

“Tired Em?” Alex teases from across the circle and smiles at Lena whose cheeks are tinged with red.

“Uhmm.” Emma confirms. “Do we have any more food?” She asks, keeping her eyes closed. “Or has Kara eaten it all?”

“Hey!” Kara swats Emma playfully but causes Emma to jump and glare at her. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” Kara asks, panicked.

“No, I was just surprised.” Emma sighs before resting her head back on Lena’s shoulder.

“Well I did see a pizza place as we drove in. Maybe we can order?” Nia asks.

“Sounds like a good plan to me!” Emma gives a thumbs up. Pizza is one of her favourite foods.

With the joys of technology the friends order and half an hour later a pizza boy with a mountainful of pizza boxes comes towards them. They thank him and dig in. Emma grabs Lena and her pizza, two cans of soda and some salad left over from lunch.

“M’lady.” Emma holds out the cans which Lena takes. “I got some salad too.” Emma places the container in front of Lena.

“Thank you Em.” Lena says touched that Emma thought about her. She opens the lid and wonders how she can eat it. Looking up she sees Emma holding out a knife and fork for her and she smiles.

“You may need this.”

Lena grins back thanking her and takes the cutlery from the blonde.

Emma happily munches away at the pizza, rolling her eyes when the debate about Hawaiian pizza is brought up.

“Personally I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Sam defends laughing at Brainy’s stunned face.

“But to have a fruit on a savoury dish… it just does not compute.”

“Brainy.” Emma gets the alien’s attention. “Have you actually tried it?”

“No I have not.” He looks appalled that Emma would ask that.

“Then how’d you know if it doesn’t work?” Emma tilts her head.

After a moment of thinking Brainy nods. “Fair point.”

“Next game night I will order one and you can try it!” Sam says happily while winking at Emma, who smiles back.

“Just keep it away from me.” Alex says, shivering at the thought.

“Sorry to change the subject, buuutttt, Emma.” Kara says making Emma freeze while her last pizza slice was near her lips. She lowers it slightly while looking at her sister, who is beaming from ear to ear.

“Yea?”

“I saw you working on a song, wanna share it?”

All the Superfriends turn to look at Emma expectantly. Always appreciative of hearing anything Emma is working on. Taking a deep breath she lowers the slice back to the box and wipes her hands on a napkin.

“Peanut, you don’t have too.” Alex says glaring at Kara. Emma would do anything to make her sisters happy, Alex knew this. So did Kara. And yes, they would both exploit it sometimes.

“No, it’s okay. Would be great to get everyone's opinion.” Emma grabs her guitar and notebook. Reminding herself of the chords. “So… This… Well…” Sighing heavily, Emma closes her eyes to control her nerves. “I kind of imagine this as a duet, but with, well, the band breaking up. I may have to rethink it a bit.” Emma focuses on the fire in front of her, feeling too embarrassed to look at anyone.

She starts playing the chords and sings. Allowing the music to wash over and for her voice to carry with the wind. Emma adds the new verse but as she nears the end she feels her emotions take over, her frustration at her situation and the need to release it. She improvises. Closing her eyes and allowing herself to go with it.

Whoa-oh-ah-oh-ahh

Emma belts out, slamming her fingers into the guitar strings as she increases in passion and volume.

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in I'll never meet the ground Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us We're far from the shallow now

A smile graces Emma’s face as she lifts her head.

In the shallow, shallow In the shallow, shallow

Emma softens her voice, allowing the natural end of the song to take place.

In the shallow, shallow We're far from the shallow now.

Emma allows the last chord to hold longer than necessary. She keeps her eyes closed and waits.

A huge roar around her causes her to jump and open her eyes. A crowd has gathered round the group and are applauding her. The Superfriends all clap wildly too, Alex wipes tears from her face and Kara beams as brightly as the sun. Emma turns to look at Lena and her smile is as bright, if not brighter then Kara’s. Her green eyes simmering with tears. Emma watches as one falls and she gently reaches out and wipes it away with her thumb.

She then acknowledges the crowd with a small wave and thanks them with a bow of her head. They soon disperse, returning to their own groups and Emma sighs in relief.

“So, was the song okay?” Emma asks while picking at a chipped bit of wood on the base of her guitar.

“Okay?” Alex's voice booms causing Emma to quickly look at her sister. Alex’s eyes are wide. “Okay? Em that song… Wow I don’t have the words!”

“That’s what Lena said.” Emma smiles at the two women.

“Well it’s true.” Lena grins back, nudging her shoulder into the blonde’s.

The other Superfriends nod and agree.

“It really moved me.” Sam says smiling at Emma who blushes in response.

“Yes.” Brainy adds. “Very- touching.” Nia smiles at him. Emma grins too, happy Brainy was able to express himself.

Emma plays a few more well known songs and the Superfriends join in. But as the sun dips slowly into the horizon Emma stops and hands the guitar to James who continues playing. Not as well as Emma but enough.

Emma heads back towards the surf, wading in up to below her knees. Taking deep breaths she watches the colours change, memorising the rich reds, oranges and yellows. Lena comes and stands next to her. They watch in comfortable silence and Lena links her fingers with Emma’s. They smile softly to each other before watching the sun dip under the horizon.

(Part Two)

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