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amphxtrite · 3 years

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cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: smut, alludes to innocence kink, experienced cedric and first time reader, oral (both male and female receiving), praise kink, daddy kink, use of pet names, alcohol, fluff at the end.

do not read if you are uncomfortable.

summary: the reader has never been with anyone when she transfers to Hogwarts for her last year, what happens when a party, fire whisky and a game of ‘never have I ever’ push her to ask the infamous playboy how to love?

a/n: hey everyone, it’s been a while! bear with me this ones still being edited but I finally finished it so here you go!

hope you enjoy!

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Sunlight streams from a window into Cedric’s eyes, slowly waking him from his slumber to throw a stabbing headache at him, a consequence for his activities the previous night. Sitting up and glancing around the room that was not his, the blue and gold accents decorating the four posters made it obvious which dorm he was in, and glancing down at the mess of black hair beside him, who’s was it?

“Fuck, not again.” Cedric murmurs, standing and tugging on his trousers and buttoning up his shirt, walking out the doors as the girl in the bed begins to stir.

After winning the Triwizard tournament Cedric had become almost a celebrity in the wizard world. He was handsome, smart, and now a champion of the deadliest competitions in the world. He gave Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money at Witch Weekly’s Most Charming smile. The fame was everything he wanted and more, and with the girls practically throwing themselves at him, it wasn’t long before he became a notorious play-boy too, rumoured to give the best anyone ever had, before disappearing the next morning.

Sitting down at the hufflepuff table, next to his mates, Cedric reaches across the table and grabs an apple from a basket in the centre of the table and takes a bite, nibbling slowly as a headache pounds through his head.

“Hello there Diggory.” A voice laughs, dropping down beside the hufflepuff. Cedric turns his head to see Zacharius staring at him with an eyebrow cocked.

“Y-Yeah, what’s up Smith?” Cedric sighs, turning his head and massaging his forehead.

“Oh don’t tell me you were drinking again cap’n!” Zacharius groans, taking a swig of milk from his cup. “Doesn’t matter.” Cedric shrugs, shaking his head.

“We’ve got a game today!” The blonde exclaims, poking Cedric in the head.

“And we’ve got it! I’m only a little hungover.” Cedric smirks, pushing Zach back with his elbow.

Zach rolls his eyes and pulls his wand out of his pocket, “this should clear your head a bit.” He states, tapping the tip to Cedric’s forehead and muttering a soft spell.

Cedric smirks, instantly feeling the cool feeling of the drink’s impact being brushed away.

“Thanks mate.” He sighs.

“No problem Ced, now let’s get down to the pitch captain, we’ve got a match to win yeah?” Zach laughs, grabbing a slice of toast.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Cedric grins, standing and walking out of the cafeteria with Smith beside him.

“Wake up sleeping beauty!” The giggle and squeal of your new roommate wakes you, followed by a pillow to your face.

“Ah- Brinley!” You groan, sitting up immediately, and grabbing the pillow before she tries to throw it again. “Today’s tour day and then a surprise!” Brinley laughs in a song-like voice.

“W-What time is it?” You sigh, bringing your hand to your eyes and rubbing away the sleepiness.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s the weekend and Hogwarts is huge!” Brinley smiles, falling onto her own four-poster and closing her curtains.

“Get changed y/n, then the tour will commence!” She declares like a quidditch commentator.

“I got it, I got it.” You call out, throwing your covers off of you and quickly getting changed, eyes still barely opened as you pull a sweater over your body and call out to Brinley.

“Brin ‘m ready.” You sigh, standing up from your mattress and tucking your wand into your pocket.

“Finally, c’mon!” The brunette cheers, throwing back her curtains and grabbing your hand to lead you out of the dorm and out the common room.

You spent the rest of the day running from class to class, from courtyard to ‘special corridors.’ Seriously, where did this girl get all her energy from?

“Oh and there are some house ghosts! Oh- over here is the Charms classroom!” Brinley continues, tugging harder on your arm and stopping abruptly.

“Brinley what the-”

You’re cut off by Brinley’s sigh of content and legs practically melting beneath her.

“Look.” She smiles in an almost dream-like voice.

Your eyebrows furrow but you follow your gaze over to a group of boys in yellow robes, laughing and shoving each other about, you note the design as quidditch uniforms, they must be a team. You glance back over at the awe-struck girl to see her smirking with her finger in her lip.

“Cedric Diggory, tall brunette with the perfect smile.” Brinley giggles, nodding at the boy in the centre. “Playboy, school golden boy, Hogwarts champion…” She sighs, leaning against you.

“He’s absolutely stunning. There’s a rumor he can get a girl’s knickers off minutes after he pulls them away.” She breathes with glee, undressing the brunette with her eyes. You smirk at her and find your gaze following the hufflepuff’s frame.

Your eyes trail up with chest, taking in his toned shoulders and strong arms before admiring his long digits underneath his tight fitting gloves, how they flex and stretch as he walks.

Finally your eyes fixate on his face. Piercing grey eyes that seemed to stay serious even while he was smiling, the colour of storm clouds over a forest, calm but strong.

Moving downwards you trace down his defined jawline and cheekbones, sure to have anyone crawling on their knees for him. Soft pink lips almost gave the illusion he was innocent, but as soon as they pulled up to reveal a smirk, you could tell he was experienced, daring, the kind of person up for any kind of challenge, even if it meant jumping in harm’s way.

It was a face everyone in the wizarding world grew to know, the handsome hufflepuff that had not only survived, but won the triwizard tournament, he’d managed to get the entire world swooning for him.

“Hey there captain, where are you heading?” Brinley calls to Cedric once he’s close enough to hear.

“Back to the common room, can I help you sunshine?” Cedric murmurs, stopping for a moment.

“I’d like you to meet my new friend, Ceddy, this is y/n.” Brinley smiles, taking your hand and pushing you forwards.

“Well hello there y/n, say that’s a pretty name.” Cedric smirks, reaching out and taking your hand.

“O-Oh, thank you.” You smile, shaking his hand gently as he raises your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to them.

“What do you say we get away?”

“We just met Diggory, don't get cocky.” You laugh, watching his smirk grow.

“Oh, so the kitten has claws?” Cedric teases at your sudden change in tone.

You blush, and Cedric chuckles softly. “No worries, nice to meet you kitten.” Cedric nods, walking off with the rest of his team.

You’re frozen for a moment, feeling the heat grow in your face and in between your legs, did that really just happen? You blink, turning back to Brinley who has a huge grin on her lips.

“Oh I can see this…” She murmurs, glancing back and forth at you and the hufflepuff.

“Didn’t you just say you like him?” You laugh, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I said he’s hot, not that I like him, there’s a difference, kitten.” She smirks smugly, putting emphasis on your new nickname.

“Haha sunshine, any chance we could go get something to eat? I’m starved.”

“Why would you need something to eat when there’s a full course meal right ahead?” She jokes, winking at you with a playful smirk.

You roll your eyes and she slaps you gently on the shoulder.

“Hey! I’m teasing, come on it’s almost lunch anyways.” Brinley giggles, grabbing your arm once again. “After lunch I’ll show you the pitch, I have a feeling you’ll love your surprise.”

Lunch is quick and uneventful, you manage to sit down long enough to grab a sandwich, but as Brinley glances around at a clock her eyes widen and she takes your hand.

“On second thought lunch can wait, your surprise starts in ten minutes and we need to get good seats!” She laughs apologetically, placing a sandwich into her mouth as she pulls you away, luckily with yours still in hand.

“Let me guess, the surprise is a quidditch game?” You question, catching up to Brinely and walking by her side.

“You got me, just thought it would be nice for your first day.” She shrugs, walking out the door of the castle and starting across a grassy field.

“Sounds fun, who’s playing?” You ask.

“Hufflepuff, obviously, and Ravenclaw, bound to be an exciting one.” Brinley squeals, swinging her arms back and forth. “Oh?” You add.

“Ever since Cedric and Cho broke up their games have been pretty interesting.” She elaborates with an awkward smile. “Some people say they still sleep together, but everyone knows it’s because they both get hot and bothered when they’re drunk in the same room.” Brinley hints, raising both of her eyebrows.

“They sound… serious?” You joke half-heartedly as the brunette beside you breaks into a fit of laughter. “Both of them have made it crystal clear they do not want to be together, both of ‘em seem to be impossible to tie down.” Brinley giggles, catching her breath to calm herself before the two of you get to the stadium. “Exciting.” You shrug, beginning to climb a flight of stairs up to the seating area with Brinley close behind you.

“Oh that’s Hogwarts for you.” She sighs playfully, pushing you further up and forwards to find a seat.

“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you!” Madame Hooch calls to the two teams facing off at the centre of the pitch, every player nods to the referee and she throws the quaffle up into the air, signalling the beginning of the game.

“Here it goes.” Brinley smiles excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat.

You watch in awe as the chasers fly skillfully across the pitch, passing the quaffle with speed and perfect aim, only for it to be cut short by another player who then goes zooming in the other direction. The quaffle is in possession of hufflepuff, then is stolen by ravenclaw but taken back again. Every moment is filled with suspense and when Ravenclaw scores the first goal the section of the stadium filled with blue goes wild. Up above the beater’s are hitting bludgers back and forth, defending their teammates before sending it off to the other side again. Their movements are smooth and strong, hitting every swing on the dot. The keeper’s are positioned defencefully at each end of the stadium, using tactics to save the quaffle you had never seen before. They maneuvered themselves back and forth quickly and forcefully, even taking quaffles right in the stomach to stop them. You winced more than once trying to watch the Keeper’s save each goal.

Finally, up above were the seeker’s flying up, down and around the pitch in full alert for the snitch, both Cedric and Cho had their goggles pulled down over their eyes and their heads snapping back and forth every second. You could see the competitive nature in Cho with her teeth gritting everytime Cedric dove a little too quickly or turned to try and trick her. If Cedric was having fun with this he wasn’t showing it. His lips remained sealed in a tight line and by the looks of it his jaw was clenched, both of the seeker’s hair were blowing behind them even though there was almost no wind, almost blurs compared to the other player’s a little ways below. A yellow blur here and a blue blur there was all you could see, then they would stop, scan for a moment and wait. You nibbled on your bottom lip as the scores began to grow, each team displayed new tactics the other didn’t know and soon Ravenclaw was leading 170-130. Even the golden snitch wouldn’t be enough to help them win, and you could tell there was some slight hesitation on Cedric’s face as he kept scanning.

As if he knew you were staring, Cedric’s head moved for a moment, glancing down over in the direction you were sitting in and among the sea of people, he found you. Neither you or Brinley were wearing any house colours other than the colours blue and yellow painted across both of your cheeks, guess you couldn’t make a decision, he chuckles, flying a little closer to the booth you’re sitting in, and in a teasing manner he removes the outer jacket of his quidditch uniform and drops in down, right onto your lap.

“Hold onto that for me won’t you kitten? It’s getting rather hot.” He shouts, pushing back his slightly matted brown hair and throwing a wink your way. He watches you nod bashfully, before chuckling and turning back to the game. Teasing you was so fun, how could he resist.

Turning back for a moment he catches Brinley nudging you gently with her elbow and your eyes roll as your cheeks go a light shade of pink.

He grins, but then sees it, the score has changed in his favour and as his smirk rises, he dives.

Your eyes widen as you watch Cedric plummet towards the ground. Did he spot it? Did he see the golden snitch? Cho seems to notice this too and begins plummeting down in Cedric’s direction from the other side of the stadium. You lean over the edge of the railing with Cedric’s uniform still in your arms, eyes zipping about trying to find the familiar flash of gold when, out of nowhere, Cedric looks up, and pulls the front of his broom forwards and skywards again. A loud uproar erupts from the crowd at the stunt Cedric manages to pull, leaving Cho gritting her teeth harder and stopping for a moment right at the ground before pulling up again.

Up above where Cedric was heading, you saw it. The golden snitch flutters above the stadium moving from left to right, up and down. You look over at the scoreboard and your mouth drops. 170-150, Cedric had spotted the snitch at the perfect time right as he had distracted Cho into thinking he was diving for it. You’re sitting on the edge of your seat as the chase begins. By now the sky was already changing colours, the bright azure had faded into a mix of baby blue and pink, creating a very serene backdrop for such a heart-racing chase. The snitch was as mischievous as ever, dropping down, moving to the side, up and then running away with Cedric right behind, his fingers just grazing the back of the shining snitch before losing touch again.

Cho was beginning to catch up and her gritting teeth changed into a smirk as she began to tail Cedric. Her arm raises and she begins to push herself further, almost neck and neck with the hufflepuff when the snitch jumps up suddenly, pausing for a moment as if to watch the two seekers practically leave it behind.

To it’s dismay however, a hand wraps around it at the last moment and grips it tight. The whistle is blown and every stand erupts in cheer.

Cedric sat on his broom, panting and throwing his fist, containing the snitch up into the air over and over again. A huge grin is plastered on his face as he cheers in victory and his team swarms him and starts patting each other on the back. The group of seven touch down and cheer in unison as the stands begin cheering a mix of “hufflepuff” and “Cedric” You smile, watching the seeker high five his team mates and push back his hair once again.

You don’t even realize you’re clutching his quidditch robe right against your chest until the scent wafts up into your nose and your eyes slowly drift downwards.

At first all you can smell is faint hints of citrus lingering for a moment, but taking a deep breath the soft but powerful mix of musk and sandalwood cologne fills your senses, you smile. The earthy cologne suited Cedric. Glancing around, there seemed to be no eyes on you, so you raise the fabric closer to your nose and get hit full force by the sweet aroma. It was just strong enough to make your knees go weak, but not enough to be overpowering, perfect. You smile to yourself, but feel a pair of eyes looking at you. Looking down at the pitch again, your eyes meet a pair of sharp gray ones and you know he has caught you. Cedric smirks tracing his tongue over his teeth before turning and walking into the changeroom.

“Hufflepuff won so you know what that means!” Brinley squeals, taking your hand gently and helping you stand. “What?”

“Party in the common room tonight dummy, come on!” She exclaims, tugging you off again.

“But the ro-” You interject.

“You can give it to him at the party, now hurry up!” Brinley cheers, cutting you off and running with you in tow back to the castle.

By the time Cedric and the rest of the hufflepuff team reached the common room, the area was already filled with dancing students, drinks and people making out left and right. Cheers and applause went up for a moment as the winning team stepped into the busy room, before stopping again so the partying could continue.

Your eyes had been scanning the entrance ever since you stepped in, so as soon as you saw the familiar gray eyes and brown hair you stood to get to him but Brinley, already a couple fire whiskeys in, grabbed your hand.

“Don’t h-he’s gonna go take a shower now, don’t wanna talk to him, he stinks.” She murmurs out in between giggles. You roll your eyes and look back up again, but sure enough Cedric has disappeared and you sit back down.

“You sure you don’t want to- drink some?” Brinley asks, lifting a cup to your nose.

“Brin I need to be sober enough to give it back to him, later okay?” You smile, pushing the cup back to the brunette. She mutters a short ‘suit yourself’ in response.

For a while you simply sit on the couch with your leg bouncing nervously up and down, you keep glancing back and forth at the clock and the robe in your hands and as you finally begin tuning Brinley’s drunk rambling out, Cedric emerges from the boy’s staircase in a casual white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Standing again, you weave your way through the crowd and tap Cedric on the shoulder to get his attention. He turns to face you and a playful smirk lifts his lips.

“Well hello there kitten.” He teases softly.

“Hey Ced, h-here’s your robe.” You manage to stumble out, words getting caught in your throat as glistening beads of water slipped down from Cedric’s damp hair down his cheek.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty attached to it after the game.” Cedric chuckles.

“Oh, t-that. That was nothing just-” You’re cut off by another voice.

“Y/n, they’re doing a drinking game, come on we have too!” Brinley laughs. “Oh hi Ceddy, would you like to join?” She asks, taking both of your hands.

“Sure sunshine, lead the way.” Cedric shrugs, ushering you forwards and nonchalantly placing his hand on your waist.

The three of you take a seat on the couches again and are handed a cup by another student.

“What are we playing?” You ask, turning to Cedric.

“A muggle game called ‘never have I ever.’ You just take a shot if you’ve done something they say.” He explains, thanking the person who begins filling up your glasses.

You nod and take a deep, trying to focus on your drink and not Cedric’s hand resting on your hip.

They start off with generic questions, “never have I ever broken a bone,” “never have I ever broken up with someone,” “never have I ever lost a bet.”

Soon at least everyone had taken at least one drink, you included.

“Alright, never have I ever had sex!” Brinley questions smugly, watching as one by one everyone threw back their drink with a smile, only to stop on you.

Her eyebrows furrow, “aren’t you gonna take a drink y/n?”

“Oh- aren’t the rules if you have done it?” You question, worried you had been playing the game wrong.

“No-no it is. But you’ve never ‘done the deed’ before?” She asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“Well, no.” You state, shrugging.

“Honey, are you saying you’re in your last year of school, and you’ve never had a good shag?” She giggles, losing her filter with the amount of drinks she had.

“Brinley!” You scold, burning up with embarrassment.

“Aw, y/n!” She coos, wrapping you in a tight hug as if you were a lost puppy. “You’re so innocent and sweet, it’s adorable.” She slurs, giggling and turning back to the game.

Your lips purse and your eyebrows furrow. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, you just never had the chance. You kept repeating it over to yourself as if that would change anything, but your mouth remained sealed and your eyebrows furrowed.

Cedric notices your change in demeanor and leans down closer to your ear.

“Are you alright kitten?”

It may have been the alcohol giving you a boost in confidence, or maybe the teasing you couldn’t stand, but you squeezed your legs together shamelessly right for Cedric to see.

Glancing up at the brunette you shake your head and stand from your spot, you extend your hand out for Cedric to take and he obliges, allowing you to lead him down to a more secluded area next to the boy’s dormitory staircase.

“Is everything alright?” Cedric asks as you cut him off.

“C-Can you help me?” You stammer out, wringing your fingers together.

“With what y/n?” Cedric implores, tilting your chin up to face him.

“Y-You’ve done it before right? A lot?” You continue, feeling your face grow hot.

“Listen kitten, I can only help you if you tell me what it is.” Cedric states firmly.

You swallow your pride and feel your knees buckling under his intense stare, with all the courage you can muster, you take a deep breath and murmur.

“Can you show me how to do it, c-can you fuck me?”

Cedric’s eyes widen and he has to blink the shock out of his eyes. He’d never been asked to help someone through their first time, he found it surprising you would ask him of all people, but at the same time, it was no secret he had done it all when it came to this and your request had his cock hardening in need.

“Alright kitten.” Cedric smirks, taking your hand into his and leading you up the stairs to his private head-boy room. “If you want a lesson, I’d be happy to give one.” He chuckles darkly.

You can already feel the arousal from his words alone dripping from your core to your panties as you nod slowly. Cedric pulls you into his dorm, shutting the door behind him in locking it.

“Now be good darling, and let me teach you.” Cedric smirks, pinning you against the wall and lifting your chin up to him. “Y-Yes…” You respond shyly.

“Yes, who?” Cedric teases, leaning closer to you and ghosting them right over yours. “Call me whatever feels right, kitten.” Cedric smirks, noticing you deep in thought.

“Yes daddy.” You respond meekly, almost like a question. Cedric’s eyebrows raise and his mouth begins to water at your words.

“Say it again, louder.” Cedric teases, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing tightly.

“Yes daddy!” You repeat louder, watching as Cedric’s sharp gray eyes go dark and his lips are on yours. Cedric groans as your lips mould to his, and he takes the lead, moving you in sync with his movements and tilting your chin for better access.

The brunette had never had a lover call him any nicknames before, they usually stuck to his name as he fucked them, but Merlin was this better.

His hands fly to the hem of your sweatshirt as he breaks the kiss for a moment to throw it off before connecting your lips again, slowly prodding his tongue along your bottom lip as you submissively open your mouth to give him access.

Cedric glides his tongue against yours gently swirling it around, taking in the taste of strong firewhiskey essence left on your breath and the sweet smelling perfume on your skin.

His hands travel down your chest and onto your hips as he drags your pants down by the waist, leaving them in a pool around your legs, leaving you only in your bra and panties.

Not taking his lips off yours, Cedric takes your hands and places them at the hem of his white shirt and you get the message, slowly, you take the soft fabric in between your fingers and tug it up Cedric’s chest, pulling back to maneuver it over his head and dropping it on the ground beside you. Taking your hands into his again, Cedric guides your hands to his torso and chest, inviting you to touch him as he deepens the kiss once again.

You oblige and place one hand on his toned shoulder and the other finds its place around Cedric’s abdomen and on his lower back, pulling you impossibly closer to the hufflepuff.

Your breath hitches as you feel the brunette’s hard length pressing against your lower stomach and you pull away from the kiss for a moment to look down and gulp nervously.

Cedric looks down at you teasingly, watching your eyes go from excitement to anxiety.

“What’s wrong kitten? Do you want to get on your knees for your daddy?” Cedric chuckles, placing his nose against your ear and whispering in a hushed tone.

“Y-Yes daddy, but-”

“Shh, daddy has it covered, kitten.” Cedric smirks, bringing his long digits up and placing two in front of your lips.

“Now show me what you want to do, and then we’ll put those lips of yours to real use.” Cedric nods, doing his best to keep himself upright as you nervously open your mouth and take his fingers down to the knuckle, Cedric swallows his urge to just fuck you right there and bites back a groan as your tongue begins swirling around his fingers. Your movements are slow and timid at first, but you move your hand up to hold Cedric’s fingers in place and begin moving your head back and forth, moving quickly but taking your time to drag your tongue up and down Cedric’s long digits.

“Fuck that’s perfect kitten.” Cedric smiles weakly, feeling his cock begin to throb in desire.

“Does it feel good daddy?” You ask, pushing Cedric back a bit so you have room to get down on your knees. “Yes, so good.”

You smile and pull down Cedric’s sweatpants by the waistband and his hand finds its way into your hair, softly at first, but as his length finally springs free, his grip tightens and you smirk knowingly.

Taking Cedric’s shaft into your hands you begin teasing the hufflepuff’s tip with your tongue, running it up and down his thick shaft as his grip on your hair tightens and soft groans leave his lips. You pause for a moment, and Cedric, sensing your fear, places his other hand on your jaw and gathers your hair into his hand.

“You’re doing so well, kitten, making daddy feel so good.” Cedric sighs contently with a grin. Your smile returns to your face and you nod, taking Cedric’s length into your mouth as far as you could and using your hand for what you can’t reach, and like with his fingers you begin swirling your tongue around, testing the waters and glazing up to see Cedric’s reaction.

Eyes closed, mouth agape, and incoherent curses spilling from his lips, you feel your confidence grow and you pick up the pace, bobbing your head back and forth and slowing down to tease his tip. You grow daring and attempt to go deeper, and as Cedric feels his tip hitting the back of your throat he lets out a low groan and feels his hips rolling gently.

With tears pricking your eyes you take Cedric’s cock as the arousal in your pussy grows and with eyes clouded by pleasure, the gray-eyed hufflepuff smirks.

“Use your finger kitten, and make circles around until you find the right spot.” Cedric instructs, watching your hand travel down past your stomach and into your panties.

You experiment around, slowly moving upwards until you feel it, a sudden burst of pleasure hitting you right in the perfect spot..

“Mmh!” You moan, moving your fingers faster against your clit, finally feeling the need in your lower stomach being satisfied.

Your moans send vibrations up Cedric’s shaft and send the brunette doubling over in pleasure with one hand on the wall behind you for support.

“T-That’s it kitten, fuck.” Cedric sighs, watching your hand move back and forth against your clit while your tongue swirls addictively against his cock.

For a moment, with his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head Cedric forgets ‘the lesson’ and delves deeper into the pleasure, his eyes train on your lips wrapped around him and your fingers moving innocently, still too nervous to go deeper, the feeling of you gagging was enough to get him to snap out for a moment and let go of his grip on your hair.

“W-What’s wrong daddy?” You ask, looking up to Cedric with wide eyes.

“N-Nothing, it’s just time for our next lesson.” He explains, helping you up and leading you over to his bed.

Pushing you backwards onto the bed, Cedric watches intrigued as your eyes fly about his room instead of looking at him and he bites back a smirk.

“That’s enough kitten, lay back.” Cedric commands.

You oblige immediately, slowly lowering yourself onto the soft bed and wringing your fingers together over your stomach.

Cedric pauses, dragging his eyes over your body and taking in every curve, you feel the insecurity bubble in your stomach and you move your hands to hide it, when Cedric grabs them and whispers a simple, “don’t, you’re beautiful.”

Your face flushes red and you allow Cedric to place your arms at your side before hooking his fingers on the sides of your soaked panties and pulling them down.

The full scent of your arousal hits him full force and the sight of it glistening all for him made the wish to just drop to his knees now unbearable.

“Okay kitten. I want you to spread your legs and play with your clit again.” Cedric orders, stepping back and crossing his arms.

“W-What?”

“Spread your legs and fuck yourself with your fingers, kitten.” Cedric repeats, watching in amusement as your eyes widen and your lips purse nervously, legs spreading and fingers finding themselves on your clit nevertheless.

“L-Like this daddy?” You ask, gently teasing your fingers down your slit.

“Faster kitten.” Cedric replies plainly, smirking to himself.

You gasp suddenly as your digits begin to pick up the pace, moving in circles around your throbbing clit. “L-Like this?” You pant, throwing your head back gently as the pleasure

“That’s perfect darling. How does it feel?” Cedric smirks.

“Good. So-So good!” You squeak, curling your toes at the euphoria rushing through your abdomen and through your veins as you push your fingers faster and faster.

Your hips buck upwards and your panting grows heavier as your thoughts and movement begin to grow erratic. Cedric licks his lips and steps forwards, lowering himself down onto his knees and prying your hand away, he watches in delight as your eyes widen in confusion at him, your mouth opening and closing as you try to regain your thoughts.

“Just relax, kitten.” Cedric coos, inching closer and licking a thick stripe up your core, lingering seductively on your clit as he pushes it around with his tongue.

“O-Oh fuck.” You moan, tightening your grip on the sheet as you watch Cedric suck gently on the sensitive bud. His large calloused hands massage your thighs as he works, gently caressing them as they shake in pleasure.

He shifts his attention downwards, letting his tongue slide down until he reaches your slit and then, agonizingly slowly, he begins to dip the tip of his tongue in and out, again and again, watching you shake and whine impatiently, waiting for you to break.

You try to pull him closer to you by burying your hand into his hair and tugging on him, but he keeps his pace, no matter how hard you buck your hips or grind down on him he persists until finally you beg.

“Please daddy, please. I-I need you! Fuck go faster.” You cry in pure need.

Cedric smirks to himself victoriously and obliges.

“Whatever my princess wants.”

As if a switch was flipped Cedric begins darting his tongue out as quick as he could, going in and out and lapping up and down.

The hufflepuff moves his hand from your thigh and begins slowly teasing you as his tongue swirls around your clit. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers sinking into your slit and grind your hips instinctively at the feeling. Your core clenches as Cedric’s digits pick up the pace, your mouth parts over and over again, trying to find your voice, but no words come out. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move, all you could feel was Cedric fingers thrusting in and out of you and his tongue sending delicious shockwaves up your stomach it was too much, but it felt so fucking good. You could feel your body clench and something tightening inside you that kept tugging everytime Cedric’s fingers slammed back into you.

Cedric chuckles to himself, sending even more vibrations up your core. He knew what was coming. Your breathing was growing erratic, your hips were bucking and you were squirming around in his grip.

“Do you feel that kitten?” He smirks, watching as you nod vigorously.

“Let go, darling. Relax.” Cedric hushes in a soft tone.

His fingers don’t stop as you finally give in, white flashing your vision as you cry and feel your release, crying Cedric’s name over and over again as he helps you ride out your high.

“Beautiful darling.” He murmurs, cleaning you off with his tongue as you whimper in response.

“How are you feeling? We can stop if-”

You cut him off.

“No! P-Please daddy, it feels so good I want more.” Your eyes widen at your own words and your face flushes a deep shade of red, you look down.

Cedric’s eyes widen for a moment before his grin returns and he nods.

“Very well then.” He murmurs, ditching his sweatpants that were wrapped around his ankles and climbing onto his bed.

Pushing you back gently he positions himself above you and takes his lips into yours in a soft kiss, waiting for you to return it.

Your eyes close and you tilt your head to the side, allowing Cedric to part his lips and tease his tongue along yours.

You breathe sharply in through your nose as the taste of your pussy still lingers on Cedric’s lips, but you find yourself moaning at the sensation, wrapping your arms around Cedric’s neck to pull him closer to you.

His hands move to your back where he skillfully unclips your bra, breaking the kiss for only a second as he pulls it from your arms and tosses it away.

Before you even realize it his lips are on your again, harder this time and far more passionate, he moves his lips slowly but fully, making you moan in satisfaction.

You feel your arousal grow again as heat builds up in your core, you swing your legs impatient around Cedric’s torso in a wordless plea to fuck you.

Cedric smiles into the kiss and without removing his lips from yours he uses his hands to loosen the grip from your legs and place them back on his bed. He pushes them apart and gets himself into position, before slowly pushing his length into you. You drew a sharp breath as he pushed deeper into you, but the sharp feeling went away almost immediately as you shifted yourself into a more comfortable position.

Cedric has to restrain himself from starting as he waits for your permission to start. Being your first time, he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you, or start before you were ready.

He lets out a breathy groan, you wrapped around him so perfectly, he had to pull away from your lips for a moment to bite his lip.

You capture his lips back into yours and whisper softly for him to start, Cedric doesn’t hesitate and begins to roll his hips in and out, building speed with each thrust of his hips.

“Fuck kitten you feel so good.” He moans, moving his lips to your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin as you sigh in pleasure.

Your breathing came out in rough pants with each thrust from Cedric’s hips, mixing with moans of ecstasy as he filled you up each time, hitting the spot deep in you that had your toes curling and your head lolling back.

“Faster daddy please!” You cry as Cedric nods and quickened his pace making shallow but thorough thrusts and sent vibration all the way up your body and through your veins.

“F-Fuck right there.” You beg, holding onto Cedric’s back like your life depended on it.

“You’re doing so well for me kitten, f-fuck.” Cedric praises causing light shivers to go down your spine.

You whimper softly.

Cedric chuckles softly as he buries his neck in your neck again and bucks his hips, burying himself fully causing a sharp gasp.

“Kitten you feel so good wrapped around my cock, Merlin I could fuck you for days.” The brunette murmurs darkly.

Your face darkens even more and you can only squeak out a small ‘thank you’ before Cedric begins snapping his hips back and forth again.

“Oh- oh fuck.”

“You like it when I praise you kitten? Tell you how perfect you feel while I fuck you.” Cedric taunts, pressing hard kisses down your neck.

“Yes daddy, I love it!” You shout, tightening your grip on his back as Cedric thrusts faster and harder

The tight sensation in your stomach was back and it was getting harder to hold in your climax with Cedric thrusts still hitting your core perfectly.

“D-Daddy, I’m so close.” You pant, arching your back and dropping your head into the pillows below you.

“I-I’m almost there kitten, you’re doing so well.” Cedric breathes, moaning in pleasure as you clench suddenly, trying to keep your release at bay.

“It’s alright darling, cum for me love.” Cedric murmurs, connecting your lips once more as his thrusts grow slower. You nod firmly, arching your back and feeling your eyes roll back as ecstasy pulses through your being.

The shockwaves from your release and the sound of your voice shouting his name pushes Cedric over the edge and after one final thrust his vision flashes.

“Oh fuck y/n.” He moans, slowly rolling his hips to ride out his high.

Cedric smiles as he finishes, collapsing gently beside you.

“How was it, kitten?” Cedric asks teasingly, placing his hand on your cheek.

“W-Wow.” You mutter after a moment. “It was perfect Ced, I learned so much.” You smile.

“That's great kitten, you did… amazing.” Cedric smirks, finding his voice getting caught in his throat as he speaks.

You glance out the window and see darkness pouring through the glass panes.

“M’ getting tired Ced.” You sigh, getting ready to throw the covers off and try to get back to your room.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright. You can stay here, I’ll clean you up.” The hufflepuff insists, sitting up suddenly and grabbing his wand.

You nod and close your eyes for a moment, he murmurs a spell and when you open your eyes again you are cleaned off and Cedric was walking towards you with clean clothes, wearing his sweatpants again.

“Here, I-I’ll get you some water.” he smiles, laying a large t-shirt and a pair of his boxers onto the bed.

You nod meekly and sit up carefully to grab the clothing.

Shrugging on the shirt, you watch as Cedric makes his way to his door.

“Thank you by the way.” You sigh hoarsely, smiling to yourself.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be back in a moment.” Cedric nods, opening the door to his dorm and leaving.

“Godric…” Cedric sighs to himself as he leaves. For a moment he leans on the door and just breathes. This was just supposed to be a ‘lesson.’ A one night thing where you’d be together one night and forget. But, how was he going to forget? The way you touched his skin, said his name, called him ‘daddy.’

Fuck.

By the time he reached the common room the party had died down to only the hufflepuff students who were either passed out or cleaning up.

The refreshments table still had a few pitchers of water no one had touched so Cedric grabs one and two cups before turning and walking towards the stairs.

When he returned you were half passed out on his bed, your eyes flutter lightly as he walks in and Cedric can’t help but smile. You look so beautiful lying there, exhausted, but absolutely stunning.

“Hey, I brought you something to drink.” He whispers, pouring you a drink before helping you sit up.

“Mm-” You nod, taking the cup from his hand and drinking it.

The cool water feels amazing down your dry throat, you smile and thank him again before handing the cup back to him and collapsing back into bed.

“I-I’ll sleep on the floor.” Cedric mutters, placing the cup onto his bedside stand.

“No- Can you stay with me, please?” You murmur out suddenly, shifting to the side of the bed and snuggling yourself into his blanket.

“Yeah, of course.”Cedric smiles, sitting beside you before laying and getting situated in the covers.

You turn as soon as he’s comfortable and cuddle yourself into his chest.

“G’night Cedric.” You yawn, feeling your fatigue pull you into unconsciousness.

“Goodnight y/n.” The hufflepuff murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his chin over your head.

There was something soothing about your breathing, the scent of your hair, the feeling of your skin against his. Something about you felt right, you felt perfectly sculpted against him.

Almost, ethereal.

But you deserved so much better than him. More than a playboy that has used every trick in the book. More than someone who could barely remember his nights because of alcohol. More than him.

You were innocent, more or less, compared to him. You still had a chance.

He sighs, pulling you closer to him.

For tonight though it didn’t matter, you were asleep peacefully in his arms and he was there with you. You could make the choice in the morning. But for now he was here, with you.

And that was all that mattered.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric smut #cedric diggory imagine #Cedric #Cedric Diggory smut #cedric fanfiction #cedric fic #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory x reader fluff #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric x reader #cedric diggory x you #nsfw.anya

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vidalinav · 3 years

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Life’s a Beach (1)

I underestimated how long this fic was, so I smashed them together. I will continue just posting snippets and writing it like that (and then smashing them together), but since most of you will already have read it, I will include a bonus scene at the end. My thank you for putting up with my unconventional writing process.

Summary: Tarquin comes to town and Cassian is jealous.

Cassian doesn’t like when Tarquin visits.

Never mind the ban from the Summer Court or that at one point, blood rubies pilfer their court. Never mind that Summer crowns him holier than the seas and the sun. Cassian doesn’t like the ease in which he walks. He may not have his usual royal garb, but he glides along the Sidra. The mighty king out for a stroll.

Nesta looks like his queen.

His mate is bright and beaming, huffing laughs and smiling wide as she praises his ideas. Cassian has ideas, too.

But Nesta isn’t interested in his ideas as he follows them around. Nesta just continues smiling. Her skin glows with the sun, the apples of her cheeks turning a pretty shade of apricot as Tarquin notes the dying rays. Are you a poet Tarquin? Cassian wants to ask, but knowing the High Lord, he just might be and Nesta fucking loves poetry.

Her cheeks remain pink and Cassian resists grabbing her hand and dragging her back to the house. You’ll die of heatstroke; he might say if she protests. But no.

He won’t.

He promises to be on his best behavior.

Even so, Cassian can’t help eyeing buildings as they pass. Just break one, he urges. One and we can ban you from the Night Court. But that might mean, Nesta spending some time in Summer, with her good friend Tarquin, who makes Nesta beam like that, make her cheeks red like that.

All Cassian sees is red.

All Nesta looks at is Tarquin.

“You know, I never thought someone as young as you would be so conniving.”

Conniving? Cassian isn’t paying attention, but at the word, he’s ready to deem it insulting enough to fight Tarquin if Nesta so much as gives him a look. But Nesta only listens as Tarquin speaks. Cassian can’t even read her expression. It’s blank as she stares.

“I admire that quality,” The little high lord says.

Admire someone else, buddy.

Nesta only snorts, the words making her laugh.

The light plays with her eyes as she smirks. They look bluer today. Less silver. Cassian has to think that it has something to do with Tarquin. Tarquin who brings out the blue in Nesta’s eyes, who brings pink to her cheeks. Never mind that it probably has more to do with how bright it is today.

“You’re too smart,” he remarks, and Cassian wants to roll his eyes. Nesta is too smart, too smart to be hanging around with some pompous flatterer. “No wonder you’re good at this game.”

“What game?” She asks, lightly, but even Cassian can hear the caution. Her voice slowing as if coaxing an answer from his lips.

“The game we all play. These situations that have us playing with life whether we want to or not.” Nesta lilts her head curiously, waiting for further explanation and Cassian waits too, because he’s not sure he understands. Tarquin looks like he’d rather not speak of it, but he continues even so.

“Fae are good at games–invented them really. Court politics, morality, marriage, and bargains. I have to believe you’re good at them. Not just because I’ve seen you, but because I know what Eris offered as soon as he had you in his arms… It’s always the smart ones who win these games–the most clever.”

Nesta rolls her eyes as if his words offer no great importance, “It’s never the smart ones who win.” She counters. “Not the ones who are strongest or the most magically gifted or the one who smiles the sweetest while she glides across the floor. There is no game that you can win by being the most beautiful person in the room… No game I’d want to play anyways.”

“Then who does win?” He urges. Tarquin almost sounds desperate for the answer, and Cassian has to wonder if Nesta has woven a spell around him too just as much as Eris.

“Whoever’s luckiest,” Nesta shrugs simply, “So there’s no point in trying so hard… We all end up in the exact place we were always supposed to be in.”

She doesn’t sound happy about that either, and something about the tone makes Cassian want to hold her close. Make her remember that it’s a joy to be here. To be together, even if it is with another male who skin beams with the summer sun.

I’m lucky to have you.

He hopes she knows.

“Then you’re lucky,” Tarquin notes, “And blessed. You’re blessed and lucky. Smart and clever.” He laughs as if brushing the seriousness off, “Is that why you’re so good at cards? Azriel was moping last night. I thought that had something to do with you.”

Nesta lifts a casual shoulder, a soft smile playing on her lips. Cassian thinks even that is a play–some move she knows will help her counter his attack. “Azriel loses because he wants to win and it’s easy to win against someone who’s already shown their cards.”

“Motivations are everything.”

“Yes,” Nesta nods frankly, “so why are you here?”

Cassian wants to know, too.

Actually, Cassian wants to push him into the Sidra and see if pretty fishman can float, but he’ll take Nesta’s verbal spar in any case. If he runs back to the House with his tail between his legs, Cassian will consider it a win for the both of them. His lovely strategist.

But Tarquin doesn’t run. Cassian doesn’t think Tarquin will ever run from Nesta and that simple fact makes him furious. That there is another male in this world who will see Nesta and not balk, who will know Nesta and not grimace.

Cassian is not the only male who stays. Not for the power or the beauty or the poise, but because underneath all of that is a female who can conquer as much as she can tame. Whose voice sounds like the sea, whose eyes are crystal clear waters, whose mind rages against the tide.

Tarquin breathes in ocean air.

Every morning, he fishes on the coast. Every evening, he sleeps to the humming sea. Who would know Nesta better than someone who dreams of waves?

So, it doesn’t come as any surprise when Tarquin looks to him, as she asks her question. Why are you here?

“Because I want to know you.”

A fool’s choice.

“I’m not foolish enough to claim you,” He adds, “and I’m not foolish enough to think you’ll ever be claimed, even if you have a mate. No offense, Cassian.”

Offense taken.

“I’m not even foolish enough to think I can even begin to know who you are or what you’ve been through… But when you looked at me that day in the Summer Court, and asked me to help your family, offered me anything that you could give me alone.”

What? Cassian looks to Nesta, but she promptly ignores him, staring at Pompous Prince Tarquin.

“I’d never seen anyone want so badly. I wanted to know what that felt like. Know what stirred so deeply in your heart that you looked at me like you’d give me the entire world for just one yes.”

Tarquin raises a shoulder and Cassian tries not to swallow so loudly. He thinks he might have to shove a fist down his throat to stop his screaming, “You’re a question I keep mulling over and I’ve yet to figure out what the answer is. I don’t even know if I could know the answer if it stared me in the eyes, but I would like to learn. To feel half of what you feel, to learn how to love so truly.”

Cassian replays her answer as he sleeps. He goes over it and over it and over it again. At some point, he wakes her up in the middle of the night, shaking her shoulder.

“Nesta,” he whispers, “Nesta? What did you mean?”

His mate only groans, her brows furrowing, as she burrows further into blankets. Cassian knows he’s playing in dangerous territory, but he can’t stop thinking about. It’s driving him insane.

“Nesta, what did you mean?”

He says it once louder, shaking her again. Nesta only juts out her elbow, hitting him in the rib. Cassian holds in the heavy moan as he clutches his chest, and Nesta settles in her sleep.

Still, Cassian can’t give up now. “When you told Tarquin you’d think about it, what did you mean? Nesta?”

Cassian grasps her shoulder, shaking her lightly, “Nesta!”

“What?” Nesta yells, leaning up so fast, she almost hits her head on his chin. “What do you keep yelling about? I’m trying to sleep!”

Even furious and half-asleep, she looks beautiful. The strap of her nightgown slips down one shoulder, and he trails the movement as if his own fingers push it down. Nesta crosses her arms, and he swallows down the want. Not an appropriate time, Cassian.

She raises a brow, “Well?”

“I wanted to talk,” he says simply.

Nesta looks to the clock on the wall, glaring at him exasperated. “At two in the morning?”

“Good a time as any.”

She looks mad that much is true, and Cassian wishes to appease.

His mate is tired, so he’ll fluff her pillows, rub her shoulders while she relaxes enough to tell him exactly what she means when she tells Tarquin she’ll think about it. As if his I want to get to know you is an offer she can’t refuse.

But as he fluffs her pillows, Cassian can only think of Tarquin.

He would have waited to speak to her, prioritizing Nesta’s health over his wants. Just this morning… or yesterday morning, the High Lord of Summer makes sure to ask Nesta if she’s eaten as she reads her book on the couch–a fact he finds rude to say the least–and when she says no, he offers to make breakfast for her. Oh, so generous of him. Never mind that they have a House who cooks their meals.

Cassian scoffs as he thinks about it. What High Lord plays chef? And who is he to ask if Nesta’s eaten as if his mate isn’t being taken care of?

He yanks at the pillow, beats at it, punches it. He can’t help but imagine Tarquin’s face. He can see feathers jutting from the cushion, and still he hits. The cloth lays in the cinders on the bed before he stops.

Nesta sighs at the mess, grabbing one of the pillows from his side, clasping it to her head.

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks.

“Hoping I suffocate enough to pass out.”

Her voice is muffled, and he grasps at the pillow. Her hair is a ruffled mess. It splays out on the pillow in waves. Cassian can’t help but breathe at the sight of her and the sound is a sigh of relief.

She’s his… Or as much as Nesta can be his.

She chose him.

Nesta with her matted hair, the side of her cheek pink from where she pushes up against the pillow, her silver nightgown making her skin glow in the light of the moon, chooses him.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

Cassian rubs at his face, feeling all too shameful. “I’m sorry. I just–” He takes in their bed, feathers littering the duvet. Suddenly, he feels like a little kid. What was he doing beating a pillow like that? Waking Nesta in the middle of the night?

“You’re jealous,” Nesta says.

Her voice echoes in the room, and Cassian frowns at the words. Of course, he’s jealous. That much is obvious. He’s always jealous.

Nesta is beautiful and powerful and smiles like she grants the sun its light, and males flock to her like moths. Not just any males either but stupid princes and arrogant High Lords and stupid, arrogant Tarquin!

Nesta only grabs at the pillow in his hands, setting it under her head as she closes her eyes. He waits for her to speak, but he can only hear the ticking of the clock, on and on as time passes.

Nesta doesn’t say a thing.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say. You’re jealous and you go back to sleep.”

The pretty pink of her lips purse, but she doesn’t even open her eyes as she says, “If you were looking for comfort, you shouldn’t have woken me up at two in the morning.”

Well… damn.

Cassian settles back at his side, crossing his arms as he stares at the ceiling. He’s one less pillow down, but that doesn’t bother him much. It’s the thoughts that don’t quiet even for a second. Stupid mating bond.

That thought though has him looking to Nesta. No, he loves that mating bond. He loves her. And even if Tarquin wants to impede himself like a wall between them, Cassian will still love Nesta Archeron.

He closes his eyes repeating those words as if they’re a lullaby that will let him drift off to sleep. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron.

The words don’t comfort him even a little.

But Nesta sets her head on his chest. She tucks herself in to the crook of his arm and Cassian squeezes gently–he tries not to hold on too tight.

She must sense his surprise. Whether that be from the bond or because Nesta knows him like that back of her hand, he doesn’t know. But she blinks one eye open, looking at him with bright grey and all his fears are assuaged.

“You should hold me since you woke me up.”

Cassian can only blink, nodding his head as she wraps his arms around her, and he settles in. He can hear her heart beating and he can hear her soft breathing and Cassian can go to sleep to this. He can.

Cassian will hold her until she tells him let go. Cassian will not let go.

Still… he can’t help it.

“I bet Tarquin can’t hold you like this.”

Cassian only gets mouth full of feathers.

Tarquin tells Rhys that he’s going to stay for two weeks. During this time, they’ll talk of treaties, draw up some plan of trade, some easy comings and goings of Night Court and Summer Court residences. Cassian tells Rhys that they don’t need a treaty. Throw him out now, he thinks.

“Is something going on with you?” Rhys asks, leaning back in his chair, ever the High Lord. Cassian is starting to hate High Lords.

Cassian crosses his arms, grinding his teeth. He’s in the sitting room in the estate. Amren solves a puzzle as if nothing about this meeting is important at all. Mor talks to Feyre by the dining room, gossiping rather than listening to Rhys moan about Tarquin and peace treaties. Nesta, not that she goes to these meetings, is out doing gods know what with Tarquin who wants to view the city.

Take me to all your favorite places, he says. Cassian rolls his eyes just thinking about the way Nesta’s light up. Bookstores and restaurants and museums. She knows them all. Nesta goes with him, first. Why does Tarquin care? Is he planning on buying a winter house in Velaris?

Cassian’s blood runs cold at the thought.

“He’s jealous,” Azriel says, throwing a scroll at Rhys which he easily catches.

Mor’s head jerks up at the word, even Feyre smirks with interest.

“No,” Cassian dismisses, but he’s never been a good liar. His voice pitches high and Rhys eyes him with humor, “I… just think that we don’t need Summer Court resources, when we have an abundance of them already.”

“You’re also banned,” Amren comments helpfully, “I would say that makes you the most biased towards these dealings.”

“Your boyfriend is from the Summer Court; wouldn’t that make you the most biased?” Mor asks. Amren simply shrugs.

“I mean have we considered that. That male banned me and now we’re opening our borders?”

“Our borders have always been open,” Feyre says, not so helpfully. The look she gives him has him sinking in his seat. “Also, you wrecked the central magistrate.”

“They’ve rebuilt it,” Cassian argues.

“You mates are all the same,” Amren groans loudly, “She’s not going to fuck Tarquin.”

“Shut up Amren!”

“That’s the best you can do? I’m sure Tarquin’s more eloquent.”

“Amren,” Feyre says, giving her that motherly reprimanding look. An expression that Cassian supposes comes with the motherhood package.

It does the trick.

Amren sneers, but she settles back where she sits on the floor, picking at her puzzle. Cassian has the sudden urge to knock the pieces off the table, just for the comment alone.

“Nesta loves you, Cassian,” Feyre says, her voice light and calming. Too bad it doesn’t calm him, and he doesn’t want to talk about this now even if she goads. “What’s there to be jealous of?”

Cassian already knows this answer. He knows this answer this morning, the other night, the minute summer enters Velaris spring. It’s not that Nesta loves him. Cassian knows Nesta loves him. It’s that he lets his guard down. He forgets the most crucial information of all–

Nesta is easily lovable.

Sure, she might give a sneer or two at someone who annoys her well enough or beat the living daylights out of someone who threatens those she loves, but Nesta is an easily lovable dork.

She laughs at stupid things and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s a goofball! He swears she knows every book in that library. She absorbs information like a sponge, will rant for hours about everything she learns. Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds. They’ll be off at the market and if she sees something that looks like Gwyn or Emerie or himself or whoever, she has to have it. She has to give it to them. They go to get cinnamon buns and she orders enough for the priestesses. She remembers everyone’s birthday. She learns the name of every patron and their families and their language and their holidays. It’s not hard to love Nesta.

Who would not love Nesta?

So yes, he has something to be jealous of.

“You look stressed,” Mor notes, her eyebrows raising.

Amren nods, “You look like you’re going to fight someone.”

“Or puke,” Azriel adds.

“Just don’t fight Tarquin,” Rhys concludes, “I can’t ban you from the court, but I can certainly make sure you’re away in Illyria while he’s here.”

“You guys are really supportive, you know that?”

“Well at least we’re not trying to steal you’re girl,” Mor teases.

“Yet.”

Cassian gives her a glare, but she only laughs a bright sound.

“I’ve never seen you jealous,” she says.

“I’m not jealous.”

Azriel raises a pointed finger, “what about that one time you threw that rock at that window?”

“Or when you broke that male’s nose,” Rhys suggests.

Amren rolls her eyes, setting down a piece of her puzzle, “How about the last time we all went to a bar.”

Mor, Azriel, and Rhys look to each other, contemplating the words. Cassian watches as they nod their heads slowly.

“Oh yeah.”

“You’re right.”

“You were jealous then, too.”

“I was not jealous,” Cassian insists.

Thankfully, Feyre–sweet Feyre offers him relief. She raises her hands, and Cassian thinks he’s glad to have such a loyal sister-in-law. “Guys, he was not jealous.”

Thank you, Feyre.

“He was territorial.”

The others voice their agreement before Cassian has a chance to speak–to defend himself from this defamation of character.

Not that he can defend himself.

He remembers that day all too well…

It’s the first Nesta goes to a bar with them. The first time she goes to a bar in a while, and she’s nervous. But she looks beautiful. So damn beautiful that he thinks he might suggest staying in. She has on a black dress with these tiny straps and a necklace that makes him want to trace her neck with his tongue until she’s mewling and soft and pliant. But she’s nervous, so he only kisses her forehead.

We don’t have to drink he says. I won’t drink either, he promises.

Cassian turns out to be a bold-faced liar.

He’s drunk by the time the first band plays. He keeps gobbling down the drinks. Nesta gets them for free. Martinis, vodka sodas, gin, and whiskey. All manners of shots. Every alcohol keeps floating her way. The males seem to think they only need to find the right one. The one Nesta prefers and they take it as a challenge. He remembers asking if she even needed their money all those months ago, and she only shrugs a shoulder. Haughty and much, much too beautiful.

Nesta offers to send them back, but Cassian gulps them down one by one before she can even call over the waitress. I can take it, he says.

Once again, Cassian is made a liar.

They have to carry him out of that bar. At some point, he remembers flying over the city as Rhys and Azriel chase him through the streets.

The only way they get him down is by Nesta calling for him. An easy trick, he thinks. If they asked him, they should have tried that first. Of course, he answers his mate when she calls.

When he meets her, crawling back with his wings drooping to the concrete, Nesta only opens her arms as if she wants him to hug her. Cassian hugs her. He… climbs on top of her, really.

But she combs her fingers through his hair and Cassian hunches over to lay his head on her shoulder and the next thing he knows… he’s lying in bed, a glass of water and some headache powder on the side table.

She’d hit that nerve in his neck.

Cassian wants to scoff just thinking about it.

“Where is Nesta anyway?”

The question has Cassian grinding his teeth, he can hear the noise in his ears. With fucking Tarquin.

“She’s out,” he says instead.

“Out where?”

“Out to museums,” He lists thinking of all the places Nesta enjoys. “Or picnics.” All the places that Nesta will smile at. “Or restaurants.” All places Nesta will bubble up with laughter, that she’ll blush with glee, that she’ll gaze at wistfully with that bastard Tarquin. “Or maybe romantic boat rides. The one in that fucking swan.”

Cassian doesn’t even know he grabs on to the throw pillow, but the next thing he knows the cushion is torn in half and the stuffing falls out like billowing snow.

The others look at him strangely, but it’s Feyre who takes a cautious step towards him, taking the pillow from his hands.

“And when will they be done?”

Cassian rolls his eyes, looking to the clock. “I meet them in a half an hour. We’re getting lunch,” he mocks in a voice that doesn’t sound anything like the High Lord of Summer.

Feyre hums in answer, her eyes widening innocently. Cassian stares in suspicion.

He watches as the others look to each other, too. Azriel to Mor. Mor to Rhys. Rhys to Feyre. Feyre to Amren. And then all of them look back to him.

It’s Mor who bounces brightly, “I want to go!”

“I’m going, too,” Rhys announces.

Feyre crosses her arms, “You can’t go. I’m going! Someone has to watch the baby.”

“Let Nuala and Cerridwen watch the baby! I’m supporting my brother.”

“I’m supporting my sister!”

“Oh, for cauldron’s sake,” Amren groans, “just bring the boy!”

Cassian frowns as they start packing up around him, yelling at each other for their coats and… baby carriers.

Amren only pauses to laugh at the look on his face.

“It could be worse, you know,” She says, her voice something she probably thinks sounds soft and comforting, “Tarquin could have already made some move. What do males say these days? Oh right, I want to get to know you or something equally as vomit inducing.”

Cassian simply picks up the throw pillow to his left and screams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS SCENE 1:

The evening of their first outing, Cassian can’t button his shirt. He should've taken that as his first sign that things would inevitably go wrong.

“Are the buttons winning?” Nesta asks lightly. Cassian huffs a curse, hiking the shirt over his head. It gets stuck around his neck and he groans out a response.

Fine, he thinks. I give up.

Nesta laughs at his slumping shoulders.

“It’s the wings,” He says, muffled through the cloth. His wings drift up and down as if huffing themselves, showing her that they too are thoroughly annoyed. “This shirt isn’t made for Illyrians.”

That’s a lie, but Nesta only hums.

“Well... as much as I like you topless and I do like you topless.” Cassian can feel her hands trailing up his ribs and he squirms at the ticklish touch. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for public outings.”

“You mean you’d be jealous,” He breaths. Nesta pulls the shirt down, unbuttoning and buttoning it again. His mate makes it seem far too easy, and she smirks up at him when the shirt is fully on. Her lips painted in red.

The fresh air is cool in his lungs without the noose of dress ware, and he winds his arms around her, breathing in her scent. “All those females looking. Males too. What would you do if they propositioned me?” He urges, holding her closer, bringing her hips to his. “Cassian, Cassian, take me in your arms.”

He dips her low as if they’ve finished some waltz, and lifts her high until her leg is around his waist. That’s when he notices the slit in her gown, running all the way up her thigh.

“They’ll chase me through the streets, you know. I’m a very hot commodity.”

Nesta doesn’t even laugh. In fact, she merely lifts her eyes, her expression blank in that very Nesta way of hers.

She fingers the collar of his shirt and Cassian can’t help but follow her hands. He thinks of every place those fingers can touch. “You wouldn’t be so difficult to catch. All it’d take is some buttons.”

Cassian roars with laughter and Nesta smiles at that. A small turn of her lips.

She turns back to the vanity, though he can’t say she’s not already perfect. He’s about to say so too, but that’s when he notices the dress.

It’s hugs her every curve... the way Cassian only wishes to hug her. The black brings out the gold in her hair, in her sun-kissed skin. There’s a slit, Cassian knows, and tiny, tiny straps.

Cassian moves towards her without a second thought. How anyone can think when they look at Nesta Archeron, he doesn’t know. He grasps her arms, dipping his head low. He places a reverent kiss on her shoulder and Nesta looks at him through the mirror, blinking up at him with those big, magnificent eyes.

They’ve never fucked in front of mirror before.

Cassian makes a note.

“You know, we can always skip this... thing. Who would even notice if we're gone?”

“Considering it’s for us, I’d say plenty.”

She says the words with enough disdain that Cassian frowns at the tone. She looks away as he catches her eyes.

“Do you not want to go?” He asks, dropping his hands.

“I want to get this night over with,” she says, with a certain bite that has him backtracking. He runs over the day and all things she can be mad at him for, but he finds nothing, so he doesn’t understand.

The night is for them.

To celebrate her more than anyone. There’s been so many celebrations for her these past months as if they’re making up for lost time. Cassian doesn’t mind. Nesta should be celebrated. And Nesta doesn’t seem to mind, though she’s rather quiet during those outings.

That’s not unusual.

He used to think Azriel was the most introverted of them all. But Nesta beats him by miles.

“Why--”

“I just don’t like that we always have these. Why can’t everyone just leave us alone?”

Cassian stares at her reddening skin. The way her eyes dart back and forth, trying not to look to him. His frown deepens at the way she hides.

He thought they were past this.

Cassian is the first person to admit that he doesn’t know Nesta. Not in the way he wants to and Nesta seldom tells him much. But he at least knows her well enough to know that when she gets upset, it’s rarely what she says it is.

So Cassian takes inventory.

They’re going to a get-together. They’ve done that before. They’re wearing formal clothes. They’ve done that before. They’re meeting the same people. Yes, that’s correct. The only thing that’s different is... the location?

“You have a problem with the restaurant,” he guesses.

Nesta merely lies her chin on her palm.

“It’s new... they have good food... so I hear. It’s got great music, which you like. It’s got a bar,” Cassian’s gaze whips to her, “Is it the bar?”

Nesta rolls her eyes, but he can see the way her cheeks flush a bright pink. The color softens something inside of him, makes him want to hug her and hold her and get rid of every bad thought in her head.

The bar. Of course. He sees the way she cringes at alcohol, the way she shifts in her seat when a dinner turns into an after party. She doesn’t even like most of their holidays for that reason, because they all get drunk and she sits in the corner not knowing what to do. Nesta hates being embarrassed.

She can drink if she wants, he tells her, it’s her choice. They won’t judge her for it, he affirms, but... Cassian can’t guarantee that and Nesta knows that’s a lie. Nesta doesn’t even touch liquor.

Cassian feels his chest start to sink and he must show it on his face, because she scoffs.

It’s bad enough she doesn’t want to go to the city most days. She’s told him it’s because she’s scared to face who she was, afraid that she’ll be back there soon enough. Cassian can’t reassure her well enough. We can face it together, he says. We can face it all. But it’s been baby steps and these outings are the only times she pushes her limits.

Cassian shifts her around, laying his hands on her cheeks, rubbing at the heated skin. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want.”

“I don’t want to be a coward.”

Cassian shakes his head, “you’re not going to be one if you go and you’re not going to be one if you stay.”

Nesta sighs, and Cassian kisses her forehead because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to instill in Nesta that she’s the strongest, bravest person he knows. How does he convince her of a truth that’s so obvious?

She isn’t going to change her mind that much he knows, but damn him if he let’s her wallow alone.

“I won’t drink,” He offers, “We can play cards, dance a little... I promise I’ll try not to step on your toes again.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” She says, her lips pouting in that way that makes him want to kiss her nose and her cheek and every place that he can touch. “To have fun.”

“You are fun and I enjoy myself plenty with you.”

Little does Cassian know that the enjoyment of the night is him knocking back barrels of drinks, stripping to his underwear, and running head first through the streets.

To be continued...

LOL. This fic is insane. Because not only do you get snippets before you get the final chapter, you get snippets in the final chapters. Snip-ception.

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @drielecarla, @generalnesta

I think that’s it. Also know that if you asked to be tagged on snippets, I am going to tag you MANY TIME throughout the day... so be cautious about that.

#Life's a Beach #my generic a** title #whatever I had to move on from it #nessian #nessian fanfiction #cassian #vidalinav writes #vidalinav #Nesta archeron #Tarquin #my Tarquin fic

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier.

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future.

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up.

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations.

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time.

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place.

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.”

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer.

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU.

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind.

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door.

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on.

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense.

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.”

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.”

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere.

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

#star wars #pop star wars au #my au #time travel #star wars au no 3

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

Text

A Reading: Part 3 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch Reader)

<- Previous Chapter. Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, threats, manipulation

Word Count: 3257

Y'know how I said I would update this fic and then I never did? Well, come get y'all juice

Still. They were all perfectly still after you explained everything that you'd seen. None of the boys moved, but none of them were looking at you. They were processing your words, with some of them having already asked a multitude of questions as you tried to explain. You'd told them that this path, the path they'd set themselves on, would only lead to death. Their deaths. But that, as you'd seen, it wasn't either of the brothers that fired the first shot. Well, it wasn't their hand on the trigger- stake- whatever. It was two boys you hadn't seen even in your vision. They were with the youngest brother, but the thing that you stressed was that he wasn't the one that staked him. Staked Marko. You didn't even know the kid, but you were trying to make sure he didn't end up on a missing poster.

You'd described the images in as much detail as you could. From the cards, you guessed it would be Paul and then Dwayne next simply from their placement on the death card. David would be last, but, again, you guessed that that battle would be between him and the brunette. From the way he'd held the antlers, the way he'd stared directly at the platinum blonde. A shiver ran down your back, and you reached for your cat. You tugged him close to your chest, and glanced at the four vampires. You'd tried to be as helpful as you could, keeping in mind the disadvantage that you were at. The silence was starting to thicken the air, make the hairs on your arms stand up. Salisbury meowed, as if sensing your discomfort. That little noise broke them out of whatever haze they'd been under, and it was Marko that asked,

"Is it- Is this it? There's nothing we can do?" He asked, and, even if they were vampires, your heart broke for him for a moment. The way he looked at you, how big his eyes were. The rest had lifted their eyes as well. Paul's eyes were eager, pleading. As if you could stop this. Dwaynes were intense, staring into you. As if there were more answers written into the creases of your face that he could see if he just looked a little harder. And David? David's face was unreadable, but his eyes were alight with anger. You gulped, and quickly shook your head.

"No- no. This is just the current path you're on. You make decisions every day, ones that keep you or push you off of a path. You just have to find a way off of it, and onto a better one." You told them. There was hope for them, even if you knew part of you shouldn't have been encouraging that. They were vampires. Killers. You should be happy to find that the creatures plaguing Santa Carla were going to end up dead in a matter of weeks. But, you couldn't bring yourself to be. Not when they were right in front of you and some of them seemed to be fighting tears. Fighting hopelessness.

"We could kill them." Paul suggested with a shrug, and you were quick to send him a glare. But, to your surprise, David shook his head. Perhaps it was just because he knew you'd argue, or maybe it was because David knew that wouldn't take care of all of them. Or some of them might die in the process. David was staring to the side, and you could practically see the way the gears were working. He was trying to figure this out, figure a way out of it. You pet Salisbury absently, feeling awkward in your own home. There wasn't like there was much you could do now-

"Why are you traveling alone anyways?" David asked suddenly, and the question nearly made you flinch. Your eyes flicked to him, and, without meaning to, your thoughts gave him your answer. Witch hunters flashed through your mind. Your most recent encounter giving him a crystal clear image of what you faced. Of your predicament. You were running, trying to escape the hunters that pursued you. He stared, and then he nodded. "Our problems are the same then." He said, and your eyebrows furrowed. You stared at him, wondering what he meant. Where he was taking this. To answer him, you said a small,

"I suppose." It was barely a mumble. You didn't know if you would call them the same. Vampire hunters and witch hunters were both hunters at the end of the day, but you were sure you didn't deserve the prosecution. Them on the other hand…

"This could work. You protect us, we'll protect you." He said, and his voice sounded as if he already decided it. You opened your mouth to protest, or maybe just question, but David interrupted you. "Or, we could just eat you." And you shut your mouth just as quickly as you'd opened it. They watched you, waiting to see what you'd decide, and you finally let out a sigh.

"What do you want me to do?" And David grinned. Some of their requests you could've guessed. Protection spells and wards, and Paul had even asked if you'd bless a few of his jewelry items. You'd replied to that with a simple,

"Won't that burn you though?" And he shrugged and replied,

"Why, are you a priest?" And you did your best not to let him make you smile. You really did. But it still lead to you saying,

"These are gonna take time, especially the spells. I won't- I won't be able to complete them all tonight." You said, especially with how exhausted you were. The sun was coming up soon anyways, and it wasn't like they'd be able to avoid the rays completely in your little caravan. Plus, you weren't sure your nerves would be able to tolerate staying in such close quarters with them for an entire day if they did get stuck with you. Luckily, they could take a hint and they all finally headed towards the door, and Marko called to you with a wave of his fingers,

"Don't go anywhere." He said teasingly, but part of you knew the threat that lied underneath. Paul winked at you and said a quick,

"Check you later, chica." Before Dwayne sent you a pair of finger guns and headed out the door with the rest of them. David was last, and he hung around for a moment. He looked around your little home, at all your trinkets and things. And then his eyes settled on you. You could feel the suggestion in his tone as he said,

"Don't even think about leaving." He told you, and you felt your necklace pang. Deflect any of the mental games he was trying to play. You nearly wanted to glare at him for trying to use his mind control on you, but you bit your tongue. You were so close to getting off scot-free. You wouldn't mess it up with a harsh word. Instead, you just nodded, and you watched as he left the room and you locked the door behind him.

You fell in a heap into your bed, staring at the roof of your caravan. It had been a normal town, just trying to make a buck. Now, you were involved with vampires. Vampires. You ran a hand over your face and groaned. As you tried to get ready and settle into bed, you ran the events over and over in your mind. Perhaps you should've just kept driving, or stopped in the next town over. Anything to have avoided the predicament you were in now. You sighed and tried to fluff your pillow, Salisbury at your side as the sun peeked above the horizon. As you tried to fall asleep, you decided that this seemed to be a never-ending nightmare

You were quickly proven right when a loud knock came at your door. You'd been up for a few hours, but you'd been too shaken to really explore Santa Carla. Or to try to make any money. The night had been slow, with you working on a few spells that you thought could help your reluctantly made allies. The knock had startled you, and you went to the door to peer outside. You left the chain on just in case. Standing there was Paul, a wide grin on his face. You hadn't even realized it'd gotten dark yet.

"Evening, sweet-cheeks. Miss me?" He asked, and you sighed. You undid the chain and pulled the door open another inch. You were surprised to see that it was just him, and a part of you eased. One vampire you could handle. "Now, did you have a dream about me too or was that just me?" When you stared at him and didn't reply, he sighed and shook his head. He pushed himself up from where he'd been leaning and said, "David told me to come check on you. Make sure you were still here." He said, almost sounding upset that you weren't willing to play along. But you were sure that he must've been used to his fair share of rejection by now.

"Well, I am." You told him, standing in the doorway and staring at the blonde. He arched a brow, surprised by your coldness. "Anything else?" You asked, trying to speed this up. The quicker you could finish their spells, the quicker you could leave Santa Carla. Paul sucked his teeth and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nah, not really. You finish my ring?" He asked, keeping his tone cool. Even if you could tell he didn't enjoy how quickly you were trying to get rid of him.

"Yeah, a little while ago." You told him. He glanced at the opening in the door, not so subtly asking. You sighed and pushed the door open. He grinned at the silent invitation, and followed you into the trailer. He closed the door behind him as you went to your bed, picking the piece of jewelry off of your makeshift work table. You'd meant to just turn around and give it to him, but Paul passed you to lay on the bed just next to the slab of wood you were using to place all of your things. He grinned up at you, staring at you from where you stood. You stared back, not looking half as amused as he did. His hair had splayed out behind him, and his mesh shirt had risen a bit. Showing off a sliver of skin. He grinned when he saw your eyes follow the movement of him pulling it down. You quickly looked away and went to sit on the bed on the other side of your table as Paul pushed himself up onto his elbows.

The boys had made you nervous yesterday, but now? You were tired, grumpy, and just wanted to be left alone. But Paul was the least intimidating of the bunch, even if you knew you shouldn't underestimate him, and he was insistent on staying and amusing himself by touching all your things. He reached out to touch the herbs and jars you had on your table, and you lightly shooed away his hand. The gesture only earned a grin from him and he teased you by reaching out again. When you sent him a glare, he responded with,

"You're really cute when you're angry." And you rolled your eyes. You tried not to let it chip at your resolve, but you could feel your cheeks heating up. You handed him his ring, a silver one with an eyeball on it, and you watched as he slipped it on. No burns. He grinned, playing with it and examining it. "So, what will it do?" He asked, and you waved your hand lightly as you spoke, calling a cup of tea towards you.

"It's just got some light protection on it. It'll warn off bad entities and help keep you safe." You said as you paged through your book, taking the cup from the open air and taking a sip. You didn't see how Paul watched the action, and you flipped the page. You were trying to find a spell that could protect all of them, or their space. You'd been consider the idea of warding wherever they slept during the day, but you were hesitant to suggest that. You didn't necessarily want to walk in a vampire den, allies or not.

Paul didn't move to stand, even after he had his ring. He hung around, even if he was just watching you read. He played with his ring, turning it on his finger, and the pair of you chatted here or there. Finally, he said,

"Did you- Did you do the dream thing?" He asked, and you looked up and responded with a confused hum. He looked surprised by your confusion, and quickly looked back down at your ring. "Oh, just- I really did dream about you and we don't usually…" He trailed off, and this time your eyes didn't leave his face. He'd looked away, and you could tell he was trying to figure something out. In fact, you thought he almost looked embarrassed. You tilted your head, the edge of your lips tilting up as you watched him. "Nevermind. How does your floaty thing work?" He asked, and you laughed and nearly choked on your drink from his description.

"My telekinesis?" You clarified, and he nodded. He was smiling, and it lit up his entire face. He was quick to reply,

"Yeah, that." And you found yourself staring for a moment. You knew vampires were supposed to be attractive. Most supernatural creatures were. It was a part of their appeal, like a venus fly trap. They pulled you in with their beauty and their charm, just to snap around you and eat you while you were still alive. But the way Paul's smile lit up his face? How easily he laughed and, while you could blame this on herbal substances, how he just seemed the slightest bit slow? It all made it seem as if he wouldn't hurt a fly. You smiled to yourself and said,

"Uh, what do you mean?" You asked, and Paul was leaning in, nearly making your work table tip over.

"Like, you can move things with your mind, right? So, is there anything you can't move or like- y'know?" He asked, and you swirled the spoon in your tea. You thought about it, and then shook your head.

"I mean, I don't use it all the time. I don't really think there's a limit it's just, like, how concentrated I am. But, I guess, I get tired when I use it too much." You told him. You didn't know why you were telling him these things, but you supposed he was good company. Better than you talking to Salisbury. If you were honest, it was probably the fact that it'd been a long time since you'd talked to anyone. And anyone that was as attractive as the blonde.

"Could you use it on me?" He asked, and you saw the glint of mischief in his eyes. You let out a scoff when he lifted his eyebrows suggestively, and you waved him away.

"In theory, yes." You told him, and he rested his head on his hand then. He gestured to you, as if encouraging you to do it. You gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on. If I knew witches were as uptight as you, I-" And you flicked your wrist. He was pushed back and his wrists were pinned on either side of his head. A surprise noise left his mouth, and you watched as he struggled. You pushed your work table out of the way, moved to sit besides him, and looked down at him. Your face was only a few inches away from his, and you watched the way he tried to pull against the hold. But, the grip was solid and his wrists didn't move an inch. Gently, you grazed your fingertips against his jaw to gather his attention,

"Happy?" You asked, and you watched as his gaze lifted up to you. He was watching you carefully, but, as the grin grew on your face, a smirk grew on his. You watched as a fire in his eyes grew, and the heat of it threatened to burn you.

"Extremely." He said, biting his lip and raking his gaze over you in a way that didn't hide at all what he was thinking. You didn't need to be able to read his mind to tell. You laughed, tugging yourself away from him just when he started to lean up, and you flicked your wrist to let him go. As you sat back, he followed you. One of his hands went down to yours, his cool fingertips reaching to hold your hand. "Is there anything else you can do?" He asked, tilting his face close to yours. Your breath hitched and you leaned back, and you tried to find a way to make your mouth move. To ignore the flirting in his tone. To ignore the way that, if you didn't know what he was, you would've already pulled him in. You tried to remind yourself. Vampire. Not to be trusted. Not to be underestimated. You'd forgotten that Paul could hear you, and the next moment Paul was tsking and saying, "You think too much." Just before he leaned in to close the gap.

***

When Paul approached the boys with a pep in his step and reeking of the witch, David arched a brow at him and asked,

"Well?" And Paul gave him a lazy grin.

"She won't be a threat." Paul said easily, and Dwayne lifted his eyes to give him a glare. Paul lifted his hands up, giving the brunette a look back. "What? I did what I was supposed to. Her telekinesis is strong, but she gets tired if she uses it too much and she didn't do the dreams. There, happy? And," He said. He went to sit on the railing, just next to where Dwayne was standing. He was slipping the ring off of his finger to give himself something to play with as he continued, "I figured she wouldn't be a problem if she actually liked us." He said, and David watched him for a moment. For how dumb the blonde usually played, sometimes he wasn't dumb at all.

He'd sent Paul to scope her out, to figure out how strong she was, and to more so see how she'd react to just one of them. If she'd try to make a break for it or surrender herself to the situation. It seemed she'd picked the latter. And the blonde was right. It would help if she liked them, even if Paul had a specific type of like in mind. Marko landed a soft punch on Paul's arm, and affectionately said,

"You're such a dog, man. We sent you to get information, you ass." But it seemed nothing was going to dim Paul's mood. He shrugged and said,

"I did. I just answered a few of my own questions." He said nonchalantly. Star and Laddie were off somewhere, so it was just the four of them on the boardwalk that evening. They watched the crowd for a moment, before Marko finally asked,

"How far did you get anyways?"

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

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potter-imagines · 4 years

Text

Sunday Morning (George Weasley)

Pairing: George Weasley x reader (y/n)

Prompt: George and Y/n have been dating for sometime now but hardly anyone in Hogwarts knows much about the couple. Everyone loves to make assumptions and imagine what it’s like but only the two of them truly know how wonderful it is.

Disclaimer: if you consider making out and kissing light smut, then this would be light smut lol also I will be posting more Tuesday from previous request !!

Warning: implied smut, mainly fluffy

Word Count: 4.9k

No student in their right mind enjoyed waking up before noon on a Sunday morning at Hogwarts. Saturdays were reserved for Quidditch matches, late night parties, trouble, and day trips to Hogsmeade. Sundays were reserved for recovery. And this morning was no different.

A handful of students were scattered about the Great Hall munching on the delicious food before them. Despite the colorful and bright breakfast lining the tables, the mood was dull and tiresome. Small whispers were heard as well as the pages of a book being turned, otherwise, it was quiet. The Gryffindor table was bare- well almost.

Each table had at least seven students or more but at the Gryffindor table, there were only two. The previous night had brought a never ending line of drinks and laughter. The Gryffindor common room was still buzzing even after the sun had risen. A nail-biting match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had taken place Saturday night. The tension was thick but the win tasted oh so sweet. Everyone was running on a high after the game. As a result of their victory, the fourth-year students and up decided to have a ‘little’ celebration. It could be assumed nearly no one went to bed the night fully sober, not even Hermione Granger. Fred Weasley had coaxed her into trying his beer after spending three hours following her around and pestering her with amusement. The same two Gryffindor’s sitting closely to each other at breakfast were the same two students who turned in for the night at 9pm and fell asleep in a sober state.

George Weasley and Y/n Y/l/n had been a couple for about a year and a half and seemed to only grow more infatuated with each other as the time swayed on. They were a more reserved couple, which surprised most. Fred and George had a large reputation at Hogwarts. Every student, as well as professor, knew their name. Even the ghosts and portraits would greet them by name!

The twins were outgoing, popular, chatty, and loud. They walked the castle with confidence like the prankster kings they are. That didn’t mean they weren’t two totally different people.

Fred took the lead in most situations and George followed after him with explanation. Fred acted on impulse and George put a bit more thought behind decisions. George was also more sympathetic than his twin. It was in these differences and more that Y/n fell for George and why they connected so perfectly. She was similar to him; outgoing, but still solemn and secretive. Happy and bubbly, thoughtful and caring.

When word spread about Y/n and George dating, everyone expected the two of them to be showing off their relationship with fireworks, bright lights, and confetti. Though the pair walked calmly into their class, holding hands and giggling to themselves as they whispered. They didn’t feel the need to show anything off to anyone or prove a single thing. Besides, Y/n didn’t want the whole school knowing her personal business. It felt a little more personal when they saved it for behind closed doors.

This doesn’t mean George wasn’t affectionate with Y/n in public. He always had his hand on her, typically laced within her own. He’d walk with her to every class, leaving her with kiss on both cheeks, her forehead, then lips. He’d flirt with her in class through notes and tease her endlessly. Everyone knew they were a couple deeply in love, they just didn’t know as much as they wanted. Gossip was the devil’s music and almost every student had their radio volumes on high. But George and Y/n refused to give them anything to talk about. It was admirable in the way. Their love was crystal clear, everyone could see that, but there was so much more beneath the surface their eyes were blocked from, and the couple loved that.

George and Y/n spent Saturday night in George’s dorm room, having their own little party. They mingled and socialized with their friends for a good two hours before sneaking away to the boy’s dormitory tower. Y/n managed to swipe a large carton of pumpkin juice to share then chased behind George. A smile kissed her lips when she noticed her boyfriend was having the same ideas as her. In his hands was a stack of cookies, and a bag of crisps.

“Great minds think alike.” He smirked and reached his hand out, eager for her touch again. She accepted the offer and delicately tugged on his hand. George glanced back, curious at her gesture. A gleeful flash crossed her sharp features. Y/n grabbed a fistful of George’s black robes and slammed his body towards her. George gasped slightly at the movement, clutching the food in his arms as to keep himself from dropping them.

Y/n matched her lips with George, dragging the tall Gryffindor down for a kiss. Bent at the knees, George leaned back so her body could rest against his. Y/n’s grasp remained on his chest but her free hand yanked at the back of his neck, deepening their already heated make out. George allowed his hand to slip down her back, the other still holding their snacks. Resting right at the small of her back, George began to lift his head, a signal for Y/n to pull back. A childlike pout seeped on her face while she let out a huff. She knew they would continue with this in his room but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to get a special sneak peek. A chuckle emanated through the grinning redhead. He was still shocked by her boldness- not that he minded. Not in the slightest. George leaned forward and painted a trail of kisses all across her face, not missing an inch of skin. The young witch retaliated the attack with a jab to his side, then a full-on tickle war. Loudly yelping, George attempted to grab her hands, but she was too quick. This was a typical moment between them, but not when they were somewhat in front of their friends. Not that they were paying any attention at all.

The partygoers seemed far too engaged in the music and talk that they missed the sweet entanglement. What a shame, George thought, it was what they had been waiting for after all. Something to talk about. Although the party was sure to give other chatter and topics for the next week to discuss. Y/n slowly stopped, still buzzing with laughter. George shook his head and leaned into the wall, still trying to recover from his girlfriend’s torturous wrath. His warm brown eyes were trained on her. They had been together for a while but sometimes, he still thought it was a dream. George left one last kiss to her forehead whispering against her skin, savoring the moment.

“I love you, darling... you’re so beautiful.”

“Stop it Georgie, you’re making me blush.” Y/n squealed as George grabbed at her waist and gave me a small twirl. Her flats landed back on the stone stairs with a clank. Leaning up, Y/n left one last kiss to George’s pink lips.

“That’s kind of the whole point, you’re adorable when your flustered. Now can I have another kiss, darling?”

“You’re going to have to catch me first!” With a quick giggle, Y/n turned on her heel and sprinted up the steps of the boy’s dormitory. The staircase was spiraled making the chase more difficult. Y/n was well aware she wasn’t going to win, but that was part of the fun. George being much taller took two steps at a time with ease, rapidly catching up to the young witch. This was their game, George could easily pull her back and get a kiss himself, but it wouldn’t be as exciting this way.

Y/n stopped at George’s door and looked behind her only to see George nearly towering over her smiling. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for the pair to enter. Luckily, all his roommates were still wrapped up in the party and wouldn’t be up for a few hours. George led Y/n to his bed, snatching back the covers and practically shoving her on the mattress. Y/n’s glamorous laughter filled the emptiness, warming George’s heart.

Pulling his wand out, George muttered a privacy spell, not wanting anymore to hear your sweet noise that would soon be coating the walls. He set his wand on his nightstand then focused back on the girl laying underneath him. She looked so pure, so dreamy just lying there. George moved forward, unable to resist the gravitational pull. This kiss was different than earlier- more serious and compassionate. Y/n wrapped her hands around his face, desperate to have as much contact with George as possible. They spent the rest of the night tangled in his bed sheets and howling with laughter. They watched the stars outside the small dorm window and held each other for the remained of the night. George’s roommates hadn’t even noticed the pair passed out in his bed when they turned in for the night.

Fred walked over, excited to tell his brother about his snog fest with Angelina but stopped short. His twin was sound asleep, arms secured around the smaller frame in front of him. It was a good thing Fred liked Y/n, otherwise he surely would’ve kicked the girl out. Although he didn’t have the heart to do so when he saw the couple. Y/n’s hands clutched her boyfriend’s grip as her head rested against his chest, buried in a deep slumber.

“Oi’ Fred, leave ‘em be. They’re in love.” Lee, still buzzing off the flowing drink, was stumbling to his bed, tearing off his school uniform in the process. The lights were dim and the rising sun began to break through the dorm windows.

Fred walked towards Lee Jordan’s bed and started rummaging through his dresser drawers. He was in search of something, Lee wasn’t even sure. Soon enough Fred came back to his bed and sat down with a camera in his hands. Lifting the lens to his view, Fred snapped a line of photos of the sleeping couple. Lee chuckled with a roll of his eyes. Fred always loved harassing his twin about how in love he was with their friend. Lee and Fred were happy it was Y/n and not some other girl.

The pictures slowly processed but Fred’s interest had moved on. Lee was already tucked into bed, his eyes closed as his drunk snores shook the room. The alcohol was wearing off and the desire for sleep was settling in. Fred threw on a pair of red pajamas and climbed into bed. He was in another dream land before his head could hit the pillow, which brings us back to breakfast Sunday morning.

Y/n and George enjoyed the lack of life in the dinning hall. They shared a similar group of friends and loved them very much, but it was a special moment when they were able to bask in the light of each other. George’s company was like a never-ending hug. His smile conflicted with the fearless butterflies fluttering in her stomach. No other man had ever had this effect on her. She was weaved into his very soul.

Sitting and chatting amongst themselves, George had an arm thrown loosely around his girlfriend, admiring her morning appearance. Her hair was still messy, needing a brush through. There were tiny lines under her eyes from the lack of sleep she had been getting. George knew she slept best when they shared a bed so he always tried to let her sleep in as late as her vivid mind would allow. For Y/n, sleeping in until 10am on the weekends was considered a treat. She hated feeling as if she has wasted her day away by sleeping. George on the other hand would stay in bed all week long if his professors allowed it.

“Did you hear Lee last night? I heard him trying to get to the bathroom and when he was going for the door, he tripped over Fred’s school bag and took down his nightstand with him! Fred screamed so loud- I can’t believe you didn’t wake up!” Her musical laughter sent tingels through George’s body. It was like a dose of dopamine, his eyes couldn’t resist glancing down at her. George had almost every little centimeter of Y/n’s grinning features memorized in his skull. Although there were pictures to taped to his walls of you so of course that played a role as well. But he often found himself staring at her- sometimes not even noticing the diversion of attention. Most of Snape’s class George spent daydreaming about his future with Y/n. He’d think of their wedding, buying a house together, starting a family, celebrating holidays together, seeking out new adventures and everything in between. He found himself eager to leave Hogwarts for good and move out so you could start that chapter of your life together.

Squeezing Y/n shoulder, George pulled her closer to his side,

“No, I slept like a baby next to you. Can’t believe you’re thinking about other guys while you’re laying in my arms, that’s just heartbreaking-“ “George!” Wide eyed, Y/n smacked her boyfriend’s side. George erupted in a fit of chuckles, rubbing the side of his arm she had attacked. “I’m only teasin’ you, darling. Wish I would’ve seen that though, I’m sure Fred will give him hell for it.”

“It wasn’t a pleasant sight at all. Poor boy just laid there, didn’t even get up for another few minutes.” Y/n took a bit out of her toast absentmindedly. Her thoughts were still on last night and the tumble her friend had taken. It was pretty funny, but she was too tired to humor the moment. Not to mention the moans of pain Lee let out as he squirmed around on the floor. It was an odd method to rid the pain, not that it seemed to relieve anything.

“Sure it hurt his massive ego more than anything.”

Y/n was about to change the subject when the sound of footsteps made the couple turn. By the entrance of the Great Hall was half the group of Y/n and George’s friends. Fred, Lee, Hermione, Harry and Ron found their way to the pair as they entered for breakfast. Ron was visibly excited at the menu for the day. He plopped himself diagonal from his older brother in front of a mouth water mountain of pancakes swimming in syrup and crisp strips of bacons displayed on top. The ginger wasted no time digging into his meal. Hermione squinted her eyes at him but took the open seat next to him regardless. She was across from Y/n and gave her close friend a sweet smile and ‘good morning’. Harry sat next to Hermione and Lee crossed the table to occupy the spot next to Y/n. She looked at him knowingly and before she could ask how he was feeling, the Chip to George’s Dale greeted them,

“Good morning, love birds! Have we missed out on any adorably puke worthy moments yet?”

“Hello Fred- and everyone else.” Fred swung his leg one at a time over the long bench, shoving himself in-between George and Y/n. This earned a harsh shove from George causing Fred to bump Y/n. Her juice splashed onto the table, wetting the front of her notebook. The girl glared at the twins, annoyed by the shift in company. George muttered an apology while Fred simply shrugged and leaned into her.

“How are you feeling after your little accident last night, Jordan?”

“Oh god,” Lee face palmed immediately while Fred started to laugh at the recollection, “Please don’t tell me you were awake.” He said embarrassed. Y/n nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I woke up when I heard you talking about the bathroom then I saw you get tangled in Fred’s bag and fall onto the floor. You also knocked over your stand I believe. Then you just laid on the floor and I reckon you were gonna end it all, felt sorry honestly. I would’ve gotten up but I was too tired to help.” This caused the whole table to laugh in unison at her statement. Lee scurried to explain and calm down his friends,

“You would be right- it’s not funny, guys! I was piss ass drunk and couldn’t tell my right foot from my left.” The giggles continued on for a while as Harry and Ron asked Lee to explain. He told the his side of the event, which created ever more rambunctiousness. Hermione was holding to Harry’s shoulder for stability as her body shook with humor.

“Speaking of last night, you two cuties seemed to have a fun time alone!” Fred sounded a bit too happy for either of the couple’s liking.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Fred?”

“Don’t ask-“ Lee was swiftly interrupted by a gleaming Fred.

“Glad you asked!” He cheered. Lifting himself up, Fred reached into the pocket of his robes and retrieved four square slips. He held the small card like squares in one hand and, much to his brother’s disbelief, wrapped his free his arm around Y/n’s shoulders. George’s eye narrowed at this. What was his brother up to? The mischievous smirk returned to Fred’s face as he looked between Y/n and his brother. It was so hard for Fred to get something good to tease George with. He practically gave him nothing!

Fred turned the squares around flashing the contents to the four friends sitting infront of him. Hermione was the first to react, gasping as she took one of the squares from Fred. Her hand was covering her mouth as she awed. Ron looked… disgusted? It was hard to tell. He looked pleased with the food on his plate and in his mouth, but bitter towards Fred’s surprise. Ron waved his hand, signaling to Fred that he didn’t care.

Harry just smiled then glanced up towards George, then over to Y/n. By this point, Y/n had enough of the mixed emotion stares from her friends and yanked Fred’s arm back so she could see what the pictures were of.

Suddenly, the Gryffindor felt her mouth open in shock as she examined the photo. George mirrored her actions and looked at his twin in confusion.

“You creep! We were sleeping.” Y/n screeched at the image clutched between Fred’s fingers. George attempted to snatch the pile from his hands but being twins, Fred saw that one coming. He pulled them back, there was no way Fred would allow George or Y/n not have the pictures that quickly. Lee Jordan had a similar smirk as Fred, it was amusing for a Sunday morning. Saturday hadn’t given much news for the week so of course their friends were bound to fall back on the topic of George and Y/n. Fred had struck gold with this one. It was harmless of course, but it made the couple flustered to deal with the teasing.

“I told him to leave you guys alone, but knowing Fred, this is nothing. Actually quite a cute little moment-“ Hermione interrupted Lee with an excited voice,

“Oh my god, Y/n! This is so adorable. I have to show Ginny!” She flashed a grin to Y/n and exited the hall with a speed walk. Y/n let out a groan. Hermione would show Ginny plus some, Ginny would show Alicia plus some, and so on. She didn’t care so much as she was annoyed to have attention drawn to her relationship with George. It happens to a lot of couples at Hogwarts. It’s a big school, but the students are close. Couples get a little more attention among the students. Watched with more scrutiny by students praying for drama, sadly there was an overcrowding of these students at Hogwarts. Talk spread like wildfires, and in the process, words get manipulated. Rumors ensue and drama explodes. Y/n and George were happy- in love. The last thing they wanted was talk around the castle.

“Girls…” Ron mumbled and shook his head.

“Really, Fred? You know I’m going to make it my goal to get a picture of you snogging Angelina. At least people know I’m dating Y/n, wait until they get ahold of you and Angelina! The gossip! I can already hear it.” George’s threat came with a devilish smirk to his lips. On the other side of Fred, Y/n felt her body calming at George’s words. He was cracking playful taunts and was somehow enjoying the situation.

“Ah it wasn’t that bad, relax. I’m just giving the people what they want! You two are so secretive- everyone wanted to see more! I mean, you guys are basically the topic of everyone’s discussion lately. It’s sickeningly adorable so chill out. You don’t need to take it that far.”

“For once, he’s right, George.” Y/n squished Fred as she leaned across his body causing him to move back so she could squeeze George’s hand. “I think it’s cute. You look so soft and peaceful when you’re asleep!”

The four boys watched hesitantly. There were rare instants like these where they got a glimpse into the layers of the couple’s ways. This also means they had a feeling where this was about to turn, and none of them wants to deal with any sappiness before noon. Just as predicted, George slides his hand from Y/n’s up the side of her arm to her neck, where he held a half grip for composure and control. Nudging her forward by the back of her neck, George linked his lips to Y/n and kissed her with his twin still leaning back. This time, Fred did not want to sit in the middle of them. A chorus of protests could be heard as Ron threw a piece of bread at George. Harry stuck his tongue out in an overexaggerated expression of disgust. Hands secured around his face. Lee opened his fingers to peek through waiting for the heated embrace to wrap up.

“Well how could I not when I have the most beautiful girl in the world laying in my arms?” This was their favorite game to play. George would over play his cheesiness until his friends would lose interest and demand the cuteness to stop.

Y/n batted her eyes up at George, bathing in the reactions of her friends. They made her and George uncomfortable more times than she could count so it was self-rewarding to turn the table on them.

Fred place one hand on Y/n’s shoulder and the other on his twin, shoving them apart in one motion,

“Okay, ew.” A grimace covered Fred’s features. He found himself wished he had stayed in bed instead of coming to breakfast. It was far too early to see this much love. George’s plate was nearly empty, and he was finishing up the last bit of his omelet. His coffee cup was bone dry, having been that way shortly after they sat down. It was no secret he had a bit of an addiction of caffeine. Y/n sipped from a small glass cup. The dark blue liquid was sweet and smooth. Blueberry juice was a rarity she had only stumbled upon at Hogwarts. She could recall the look of cluelessness her muggle cashier had given her when she asked for a gallon from a supermarket near her home.

Y/n chewed on the last piece of her toast while George gave his brother innocent eyes,

“What? I’m just giving the people what they want, what they’ve been dying to talk about! You said it yourself, Freddie.” Fred shot sharp daggers at George for his wit. He knocked him on the side of the head a replied,

“Okay, I take it back then. I’d rather not know, and you can go be all lovey dovey in private, away from me please!” Lifting his hand, Fred started shooing his hand and motioned towards the staircase outside the large doors.

Harry and Lee paused their side conversation and Ron sat down his fork for a moment. Ron grasps his chin and slides his lips to the side of his mouth, as if deep in contempt. He then remarked,

“Agreed.” Harry and Lee chuckled and shrugged.

More students had started to flow freely into the dining hall. Y/n figured the more Gryffindor’s that swept into the hall, the less occupying the common room. The gentle brown orbs of George found their way to Y/n’s every few seconds. When their gaze met, her bottom lip drew back as she bit on the skin subconsciously, George noticed this. He shifted forward not realizing he was leaning in towards her. Fred shouted a quick ‘no’ not wanting a repeat of the previous scenario. Y/n made kissy faces at Fred, mocking his displeasure. At the same time George brought his finger up to his twin’s head and delivered a hard flick. Fred reached for the side of his head, glaring at George.

“C’mon, George. I think we have some business to attend to, in private.” Y/n winked at her boyfriend who had a cheeky smile plastered to his lips. George sprung up from his seat and quickly got off the bench and extended his arm. A light tint popped on Y/n’s cheeks as his thoughtfulness. Wrapping her arm around his, she accepted his help and climbed over the seat.

“Couldn’t agree more, love.” George and Y/n started walking away from their friends and heading for the common room. They hadn’t made any plans for the day anyhow so spending it next to the fire or in his room sounded more than appealing. George stopped their pace just as they reached the massive doors of the Great Hall. Bending slightly at the knees, George pressed a feather like kiss to Y/n’s forehead, then on the tip of her nose, earning a wave of giggles from the girl. It was his favorite sound. George attached his arm around hers once again and set back off for their destination. Before they could make it out free, the familiar voice of Fred shouted across the hall,

“You better keep it on your side, George! And not on my bed or I swear to Merlin I will hex both of you!”

George waved back to him, giving him a thumbs up with a less than confident expression. His hand trailed down from her back to the curve of her ass and started to grab at the skin until she swatted it away, feeling the pairs of eyes glued to them. It was bold, undoubtably hot, but there were far too many students in the hall for Y/n’s liking to continue it there. His touch creates a pit of warmth in the bottom of her stomach. They didn’t show any of this in front of their friends, so it was exciting in a way but worrisome at the same time. Y/n had no intentions of turning a PG-13 situation R in the Great Hall with most of her friends and a bunch of second- and first-year children trying to enjoy breakfast. Didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling a bit frustrated and wanting to throw that feeling back on him. Fred scowled but sat back down. They were twins, he knew George wouldn’t but that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed by his mockful antics.

“Not nice, George. You’re so mean to poor Freddie. I think I should go talk to him and make it up to him… for how rude you were.” Her words dripped with witticism and a sweet passion burned in her eyes. George knew that look; he absolutely loved that look.

“No, you’re not making anything up to him. You’re mine, not Fred’s or have you forgotten? Now go up to your dorm room and meet me in mine in twenty.” There was a difference to the twinkle in his eyes. Darker than before, more fired up. Y/n’s hand shook at his words, noticeably flushed and taken aback by his strong words. They had only recent started being intimate a few months ago so they had been finding out new things about each other every day. This, this was definitely new. And Y/n found herself weak at the knees by it.

These moments were not too common, but she loved them. It was fun to see George getting worked up by just her teasing words alone. He shifted as he picked up the pace. The material of his jeans growing constrictive and uncomfortable with every step. Y/n was practically being dragged down the long hall until George came to a halt, then abruptly turned to head back in the direction of the Great Hall. Before walking off completely, he left one last peck to Y/n’s warm cheek, then dart off.

Lost at his change, Y/n furrowed her brows in question, “Where are you going?”

George’s body swirled around at her request. He didn’t stop his pace, now walking backwards towards the dining hall. Shoving his thumb to his back, he gestured to their previous spot,

“I’ve gotta tell my roommate not to come back to the dorm for a few hours. We’re going to be quite busy, darling. It seems there’s a lesson that you’ve forgot. I’m going to have to teach you and knowing how stubborn you are, it could take a while.” With a wink he rushed into the hall and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need to be told more. She started walking again- or rather running towards her dorm room to freshen up. Based on his words, she knew it would be one hell of a morning.

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Note

What is Bondarev (BSB ver) actually like in the novels? In my WIP, I’m trying to be as close to the lore as I can with certain parts, so it’s hard to write in a character that I have no clue what his personality actually is like. Also does he have a full name? Is Bondarev his first or last name? I noticed Herzog has a full name thanks to the Fandom wiki you and Hectab are working on :3

Ask and Ye shall receive. (very long post below with allllllllllll of the stuff you asked for.)

VERY HANDSOME

This was a man who was a sight to behold, handsome and straight, with iron gray hair neatly combed back and styled with hairspray, and a muscular body that was defined and supple. Many would describe him as sexy. The sentry had seen such handsome young officers in Moscow, but this one was too unbelievable. He was actually wearing only military shorts and sleeveless undershirt, sweating in the -10 degree wind. The man fished out a lighter from his shorts and lit it with aplomb, the sterling silver case etched with the words "70th anniversary of the October Revolution".

The sentry could not refuse this kindness and went over to light the cigarette.

"Here you go." The man tossed the lighter to the sentry, "In such a cold place, you need to use aviation kerosene with low freezing point, you should save that for the summer."

The sentry then realized that he still had the unlit lighter in his hand, the man's insight was actually keen to this point. Furthermore, people should be eager to find a warm place to rest at this moment. This also shows that he still has energy left for skiing in such extremely cold weather. The man took out a dark gray officer's uniform from his military duffel bag, and after a few moments, he finished putting it on and solemnly pinned a "Red Flag Medal" on his chest. A minute ago he was a skier, a minute later he had a frown of determination, a young man of power from Moscow.

"KGB Major Bondarev, I'm from Moscow." The man pulled out his papers, "Take me to Dr. Herzog and tell him that this is the moment of survival."

"Yes! Comrade Major!" The sentry saluted.

The man stated his identity in the simplest terms; he was an envoy from Moscow, a key member of the secret intelligence service. In the days of the Tsar, such a man was called a "minister".

********ICE PROOF*************

He pressed the detonator in his hand, after a short dull explosion, the marble base in the snow was blown up, Lenin bronze statue slanted in the snow. The noise of this micro-acoustic thunderstorm was so small that it was muffled by the wind within a few steps. The Black Swan Harbor is notoriously heavily guarded, but the most important aspect is the extreme cold, and standing outside for ten minutes on a night like this can lead to severe frostbite. Because of the blizzard, visibility was less than five meters. The soldiers did not expect anyone else to dare to move outside, and they ignored the fact that Bondarev had an extraordinary tolerance for the cold.

-----

"I sometimes think that people who like to drink can't be bad. So I like you a lot, you know vodka." Dr. Herzog removed the Makolov pistol and handed over a cold glass.

A light struck down from above, enveloping the Doctor and Bondarev. The glass reflected the light, as clear as the most expensive crystal glassware, but it was carved from a whole block of solid ice, pure ice, without any air bubbles, with cornflower patterns carved on the outer wall. The two men gently clinked their glasses and drank the wine in one gulp.

　　Bondarev played with the ice carved glass: "It's wonderful, the spirits wrapped in ice, as moving as a stunning young woman under the appearance of an iceberg. I think my hands will freeze and to it."

　　"Usually people who drink from such an ice glass have to wear leather gloves, and only people like you, Major, who are not afraid of the cold can hold it in their hands. It is carved from old ice in the -30 degree strata and also kept at -30 degrees, making it the coldest drinking vessel for the warmest of wines." The doctor said, He said so, but he was also holding the glass with his empty hand, his slender hand was stable and did not tremble at all because of the low temperature.

****** SUPPOSED ROYAL FAMILY and EXTREMELY RICH ***************

　　"Bondarev, a KGB major, from Moscow, these are the truth. I only concealed from you the name of my great-grandmother, her name was Nastasya Nikolaevna Romanova." Bondarev slowly pronounced this long, awkward name, like a magician reciting a forbidden spell.

　　The doctor was stunned: "Was it the last royal daughter of the Romanov dynasty?"

　　Nastasia was the last princess of the Romanov dynasty, the last dynasty to rule Russia until it was overthrown by the October Revolution in 1917. in 1918, the last Tsar Nicholas II and his entire family were secretly executed by the Red Army. Nastasia was the youngest daughter of Nicholas II, and although she was young, she was given the title of "Grand Duchess", which made her more honored than other royal princesses in Europe at the time, and princesses were required to curtsy and address her as "Your Imperial Highness" during their audiences. It was rumored that she was the only one who escaped execution, and that her name Nastasia meant "resurrection".

　　"Since there is still me, the grandson of the emperor, I can't say that she is the 'last' royal daughter." Bondarev smiled.

　　"How do you prove yourself?" The Doctor asked.

　　"I saw Rasputin's signature at the end of the tunnel, and that heretic who had been canonized had been here before, so I should say he was the one who found this cave, right?"

　　"Yes." The Doctor said, "This cave is his legacy."

　　"Then you must know that Rasputin was a guest of the Tsar and a close friend of Princess Nastasia. The fact that I could find this place means that I have Rasputin's secrets, secrets that he told my great-grandmother. This is the proof of my status as the last royal grandson of the Romanov dynasty." Bondarev held his head up proudly.

　　"So, what were the secrets that Rasputin revealed to Her Imperial Highness?"

　　Bondarev smiled slyly: "I think there are certain things I know that you do not know, and of course there are things you know that I do not, so we might as well exchange information about each other. Then we might be able to sit down and talk about cooperation."

　　"After you." The Doctor raised his muzzle.

　　"This matter begins with my great-grandmother's escape. A Red Army bullet did go through her heart and her body was thrown into an abandoned mine, but three days later she awoke and the wound miraculously healed. It was then that she remembered what Rasputin had told her, that Rasputin said he was willing to share the secrets of the world with his great-grandmother because she, like himself, was God's chosen one. Like Rasputin, she had an unparalleled power of life and could even return from hell. She later married a Red Army officer, and in those days the only way she could gain refuge was to marry a Red Army officer. My great-grandfather, who later stepped into the high ranks of the military, was a very good man and always protected my great-grandmother from revealing her identity. Great-grandmother would sometimes wake up in a dream and shout, 'The Red Army is coming with guns,' and great-grandfather would reassure her, 'I am the Red Army, and as long as I live, the Red Army guns will only protect you.'"

　　"Touching love." The doctor said faintly.

　　"Great-grandmother decided to give up her past identity, so she rarely talked about the past of the Romanov dynasty, with the exception of one thing. She bade her great-grandfather that there were relics of God in the north of Siberia, which the saint Rasputin had told her about. That saint found the cave where God created life on the shore of the icy sea. But he did not announce it to the world, but sealed the miracle with iron water, because the miracle had degenerated into the cradle of the devil, and inside it were hidden fallen angels. Generations of our family descendants have to be on guard against the reopening of that cave, and the day it reopens, the end comes with it."

　　"So you are here to check if we are guarding the miracle properly?"

　　"No, no, my great-grandmother was a good and devout Orthodox Christian, but I am not. I have a great curiosity about everything, and after I inherited the secret, I am bent on finding the miracle. If I were to find it, I would definitely open it and take a look. Not long ago I found an engineering map from the ruined archives." Bondarev drew out the map roll and rolled it along the ice toward the Doctor, "It marks the elevator that leads deep into the tundra."

　　The Doctor scanned the map, "It's not the original map, someone drew it from memory."

　　"It was drawn by a madman who used to be the engineer battalion commander of the 13th Konrad Infantry Division and was ordered to participate in the excavation of the tunnel, after which he was brainwashed by drugs and became a regular in a mental hospital. All he remembered was that he was engaged in a big project on the northern coast of Siberia, and the project was to dig a cave. Suddenly I realized I had found a breakthrough. But as the investigation progressed, I found that the matter was becoming more and more mysterious. Many years ago, the army had built a port in the almost unnavigable northern part of Siberia, about which there was no information, and even the coordinates had been erased. Below that port, sappers had dug through the hard permafrost and opened a long-closed cave. So I decided to come and see for myself. As a KGB officer, I easily applied for a charter to investigate this mysterious port, so that I could drive in as the 'Minister of the Admiralty'. Sure enough, I found Rasputin's signature at the end of the passage, and I finally arrived at the place I had dreamed of since childhood." Bondarev looked around, "But it doesn't look like there's anything interesting here."

　　"I'm sure you noticed when you came here that the closer you got to the door where Rasputin signed, the more bones there were in the tundra, and they all crawled out through a gap in the rock wall. It was those things that Rasputin was talking about when he said this cave would breed demons. But now the cave is dead, and the mysterious forces in the cave have dissipated."

　　"I don't think so. If this cave was no longer valuable, you would have left long ago."

　　"If this cave was really valuable, I should have shot you and monopolized the secrets of this place."

　　"Wait a minute! I have brought you a gift! Won't you take a look at the gift before shooting?'' Bondarev took an envelope from inside his clothes and slid it along the ice toward the Doctor, by which he showed that he had absolutely no intention of resisting.

　　The doctor tore open the envelope, inside was a Swiss bank cashier's check - a cashier's check for $200 million.

　　"This is a rare and large check, what do you want to buy from me with this check?" 'Doc asked.

　　"Not a purchase, just a gift." Bondarev smiled, "We believe this gift will be useful to you. Your research has been going on for decades, consuming huge amounts of state funds every year, and it must not be finished yet, right? But now that the Soviet Union is about to split, your backers have fallen, which means you no longer have access to funding to complete your research, and no one to help you keep it secret."

　　"It does sound like I'm facing a lot of trouble." The doctor said.

　　"Then why not work with my family? We know politics, we know technology, and we know war, and we're willing to invest in this cave as long as its secrets pay off. We can continue to support you in this project and share with you all the benefits it brings. I have already shown my sincerity and told you everything I know. Shouldn't you also tell me what I don't know? After that you will still have time to shoot me."

　　"You are very calm, Comrade Major. You think I won't shoot you if you produce this $200 million cashier's check, don't you?" There was a hint of sarcasm in the Doctor's tone.

　　"There are not many people in the world who can refuse two hundred million dollars." Bondarev smiled, "And killing me wasn't the best option. If I do not return safely to Moscow, the family will know that something has happened to me, and they will not spare you. At that time the secret of Black Swan Harbor will be made known to the world."

　　"Ten times." The doctor threw the cashier's check back to Bondarev.

　　Bondarev froze: "What did you say?"

　　"Your family needs to increase the bid tenfold. I need three years and two billion dollars to complete this research. At that time we will share the whole world."

　　"That amount is beyond my expectations and not easy to raise even for my family."

　　The Doctor laughed coldly: "It seems you really don't know the secret of this cave, in front of which two billion dollars is too small a figure, what is here no one can afford, it is priceless! Your family should be proud to offer this two billion dollars."

　　"Everything has a price, weapons, women, secrets, even souls." Bondarev said.

　　"But who can put a price on God?" The Doctor asked.

-------

The Lenin's mooring is only 40 kilometers from Black Swan Harbor, and they will be here soon. This new flare is so great that American spy satellites will recognize it as an aurora borealis." Bondarev said.

　　"You had said that the Lenin would not come." The doctor said.

　　"Moscow is not prepared to send the Lenin to Black Swan Harbo, but we can, and now the Lenin is at my family's beck and call."

　　Black shadows rose above the sea level, the roar of a giant bee on its wings approaching at high speed, snow dust twisted into a tornado by the helicopter's rotors, red five stars flashing in the white tornado. It was the "MiG 26" heavy helicopter, codenamed "Halo", one of the pride of the Soviet military industry. The helicopter hovered over the cast iron dock, the searchlights broke through the haze of the night, the hatch opened, and five captains lined up, saluting Bondarev. The communication lights below the belly of the plane blinked up, signaling greetings to Bondarev in Morse code.

　　"Glad to see you're safe and sound, Your Imperial Highness!" The doctor read out the greeting.

　　The fact that they called Bondarev "His Imperial Highness" instead of "comrade" meant that the helicopter and the Lenin on the icy sea were no longer loyal to the Soviet Union, but to the heir to the Romanov dynasty. The name Romanov is about to shine again after almost a century of obliteration in history, and with the power of the Dragons, it is not impossible for them to re-establish hegemony on Earth.

　　Bondarev handed a letter to the Doctor: "This is a letter I wrote to the family, please read it."

　　The Doctor scanned it and handed the letter back to Bondarev.

　　"If things go well, we will be able to relocate within a few weeks." Bondarev handed the letter to a captain who descended down the zip line, "We will build you a brand new research base in the warm and pleasant Baltic Sea, along with a vacation villa."

　　The captain placed a mouthful of boxes at the doctor's feet, containing a case of aged Red Label vodka.

　　"A small gift, so you don't have to worry about running out of booze until we leave Black Swan Harbor." Bondarev said.

　　"I guess I picked the right partner." The Doctor smiled.

***** HE VERY STRONG AND CAPABLE ***********

Bondarev looked alert, his muscles bulging under his uniform. He was a highly trained soldier, capable of breaking a wolf's neck with his bare hands, and had no need to fear this delicate boy, but not daring to take it lightly in the presence of something supernatural, he adjusted himself to a state of immediate danger.

------

Bondarev noticed a transparent figure flashed from his side. It was just a short blink of an eye, a fraction of a second, but Bondarev was trained to the rigors of the KGB and he was absolutely certain it was a person!

-------- IS A HYBRID THAT HAS NO ISSUE KILLING PEOPLE, INCLUDING KIDS ------------

The lieutenant on duty in the boiler room collapsed on the duty desk, a bottle of Red Label vodka still in his hand. A steel-core bullet had penetrated his heart, and Bondarev stood behind the lieutenant with his Makolov pistol.

---

At that moment the doctor heard the wind change behind his head, and the beam of the searchlight struck him. He turned sharply and saw huge black shadows hovering in the air, their rotor blades churning the snow into a flurry. It was Halo, the heavy helicopter from the Lenin, which had ventured to Black Swan Harbor in such bad weather.

　　"Didn't you say Halo couldn't fly in a snowstorm of this magnitude?" The Doctor froze. Something hard pressed against his back, it was Bondarev's Makarov pistol. One by one, the steel-core bullets pierced the Doctor's chest, tearing the aging heart into a million pieces. The Doctor spat out a mouthful of blood, mixed with fragments of his lungs, which had been destroyed in the process. He braced himself and turned his face to look at Bondarev, his eyes filled with shock.

　　"You can't complete the research without me ......," he hissed.

　　"We didn't even try to finish your research." Bondarev's pupils swirled with a gorgeous gold.

　　"Who the hell ...... are you?"

　　Bondarev held the Doctor in place and injected him with adrenaline using an air needle, "Hold on one more minute for the most magnificent scene."

　　The Black Swan Harbor suddenly trembled up tremendously, the sound of a series of explosions spread upward from the ground, but it was not a vacuum bomb detonated in advance, if it was a vacuum bomb, a square kilometer around would be leveled to the ground. A fire rose, and countless pieces of frozen earth spilled onto the frozen sea.

　　"Engineering explosive mines?" The Doctor asked in a hiss.

　　"The new engineering burst mines, even 10,000 years of permafrost, as long as the right eye is chiseled can be blown up. Now in a place you can't see, there is a huge hole with a depth of 180 meters, leading to Rasputin's cave, where we will use the laser to cut through the ice and take away the precious collection that originally belonged to you." Bondarev said, "You have been isolated from the outside world for too long to know the progress of engineering, it is no longer difficult to cut through the tundra in an instant today, once I probe its location."

　　"You ...... want to take that dragon!" The Doctor understood.

　　"Yes," Bondarev replaced the magazine, walked over to the sled, and fired four bullets into the chests of each of the four children.

　　The children died without a struggle from the potent hypnotic drug. It was pure carnage.

　　"You are not the only one who is willing to sacrifice human lives for a great cause." Bondarev pressed his chest in silence for the children he had just killed, looking reverent.

#Dragon Raja #Lore Post #Major Bondarev

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hxlyhead-harpies · 4 years

Text

The Last Dream of My Soul pt. 3 (R.L.)

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friends Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.7k

Hi everyone! I am really proud of this part and how it turned out so I hope that you like it!

Part 1, Part 2

Now that you spent more time with the Marauders, you finally got to go to Hogsmeade with Lily again. Just like old times you and Lily walked around arm in arm. The only difference now though, was that her other arm was linked around James’s. It must have been an odd sight. The three of you strolling through the village together, attached at the arms. But you didn’t care. You finally had your time with Lily back.

“Oi (Y/n)!” Sirius shouted. You turned towards him, smiling.

“Yes?”

“You make an absolutely fabulous third wheel. Even better at it than me, I reckon,” he said with a laugh. You dislodged your arm from Lily’s and began to walk in step with Sirius.

“I would say that it’s still a pretty close contest. I haven’t forgotten when you went along on a date with them,” you said jokingly. Lily turned to look over her shoulder from in front of you.

“And I haven’t forgotten yet either, you git!” Lily shouted. Sirius let out a deep belly laugh.

“I’m sorry Evans! I swear,” he shouted back. You laughed along with the two of them, struggling to remember a time when you had felt this happy. You were finally starting to understand the appeal of larger friend groups. You couldn’t feel lonely when you were surrounded by friends. You turn to look over your shoulder to see Remus and Peter lagging behind you. Peter had dropped his scarf and had begun to chase after it when it got caught in the wind. While the snow on the path to Hogsmeade had been shoveled, the sides of the roadway had not. So as Peter kept attempting to run through the shin-deep snow, he kept faceplanting into it. Remus stood behind him, safely on the road, with a wide grin on his face. His face was flushed red from the cold and he kept shouting after Peter, attempting to direct him to the scarf. The scene made you smile softly. You felt a nudge against your shoulder. You turned to face Sirius who was giving you an odd look. His expression made you almost believe that he knew something that you didn’t.

“What?” you asked him.

“What’re you staring at?” he inquired. You gestured to Peter struggling to get up from a mound of snow, sputtering out a string of curses.

“Peter’s lost his scarf,” you answered simply. Sirius smirked at you.

“Are you sure that all you were looking at?” he responded in a teasing tone. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean Sirius?”

“Oh nothing,” he responded cheekily. You frown, confused at his answer. Before you had the chance to further push the question the lot of you arrived at the Three Broomsticks.

James pushed open the door, causing a blast of warm air to hit you. You sighed contentedly. James and Sirius ran off to the bar to grab a round of butterbeer.

“A hot chocolate for me!” you yelled after the two boys, sliding into the booth next to Lily. Sirius turned around towards you and saluted in affirmation. After you and Lily got settled, removing the layers of hats and scarves from your body, Remus and Peter stumbled through the door. They were both smiling wide with red faces. Peter was huffing and puffing but held up his red and gold scarf above his head triumphantly. You and Lily cheered loudly from your table, drawing the attention of a few of the other patrons. They made their way over to the table, grinning the entire way. As they made their way over, James and Sirius also arrived at the table, beverages in hand. James slid in next to Lily while Peter sat on his other side. Remus gently slipped into the spot next to you, while Sirius began handing out the drinks.

“Okay then. Butterbeers for all of the normal people, and hot chocolates for Moony and (Y/n),” he said factitiously. You and Remus both reached for the same mug, accidentally brushing hands. You pulled back your hand quickly, muttering a quick apology, and attempted to hide the heat that had risen to your cheeks. Ever since that night in the common room where Remus had revealed to you that he didn’t like the idea of romance, you had done everything in your power to squash your crush. You tried your best to sit far from him at meals, you made sure that you were never alone together, and you found yourself talking to him less. But alas, none of this helped to quell your infatuation. All it took was merely seeing his face or hearing him speak for you to become a stuttering mess. None of your efforts conceded in stopping butterflies from erupting in your stomach every time you were near him.

The table talked about random, trivial things for a while. Topics such as “who had finished the charms essay” and “why were the first years acting extra annoying?” After a few minutes though, side conversations began to break off. Sirius and Peter appeared to be in a heated conversation, while Lily and James looked at each other all lovey-dovey, exchanging gentle touches to each other’s arms. For a moment you and Remus sat in silence, sipping your hot chocolates. After a second Remus cleared his throat.

“So I’m really enjoying the book so far,” he said.

“Good, I’m glad,” you replied with a smile.

“And I have to say, your annotations are quite entertaining,” he teasingly said. You groaned, putting your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry about that. But you can’t say I didn’t warn you,” you replied. He shot you a grin before taking another sip of hot chocolate.

“Well-” he placed his mug back down on the table- “It definitely makes reading it more fun,” he said. You smiled at this, humming in agreement.

“I suppose that could be true, I do tend to write pretty idiotic things in the margins,” you said with a laugh. Remus laughed along with you.

“I wouldn’t say idiotic… Though they aren’t the most insightful comments,” he teased. You playfully nudge his arm, ignoring the way that the touch made your heart skip a beat.

“But I do have to say, my favorite part is seeing the lines that you underline. You pick good favorite phrases,” he said earnestly. You smiled, tracing the rim of your mug with your forefinger.

“It’s one of my many talents,” you respond. Remus hummed in agreement before returning to his hot chocolate. At that moment Sirius began to tell a story detailing his latest rendezvous and you turned toward him to listen. You and Lily made faces at the moments where he bordered on disrespectful, sending him warning glares, while James high fived him from under the table.

After about an hour of reveling in the warmth of the pub, the group headed back out into the cold, ready to make the journey back to Hogwarts. As you exited the pub’s doors you felt yourself gasp in delight. While you were sitting inside, it had begun to snow. You practically ran outside, sticking your hands out to try and catch snowflakes. Lily and the Marauders watched you from the doorway, all of them smiling. You turned back to look at them with a jubilant expression.

“Guys,” you exclaimed breathily, “it’s snowing!” Lily ran out to join you, immediately sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes. James followed behind her closely, putting his hand on her waist. Sirius spent no time crafting a snowball and chucking it at Peter’s stomach. The boys began chasing after one another, attempting to stuff snow down each other’s hoods. Lily squealed with delight when James picked her up by the waist before plopping her down into a snowbank.

“Potter!” she shrieked, “You’re going to pay for that!” She made a snowball as quickly as she could and chucked it at her boyfriend, earning a chuckle from the group. You watched from the side, content catching snowflakes in your gloved hand and watching them disappear. After a moment you sensed someone walk up beside you. You looked up to see Remus who was smiling down on you. You smiled back, your stomach churning. His eyes looked down at your gloves which had an array of snowflakes melting on them.

“Here,” he said, moving to stand in front of you. He grabbed your hand lightly, turning it so your palm was facing the sky. He waited for a snowflake to land there before muttering a quick incantation and pointing his wand at the flake. It froze in place, his spell stopping it from melting. You looked at it with wide eyes, admiring its beauty. The small, crystalized, symmetrical shape was extremely beautiful. You felt awestruck. You looked up to thank Remus, an impossibly large grin on your face.

“Thank you,” you breathed out. He smiled at you before responding.

“You’re welcome. I thought you’d enjoy it,” he said, his breath fanning across your face, reminding you of your close proximity. You flushed, stepping back an inch.

“I did,” you replied shyly. The moment is broken when a snowball exploded on Remus’s shoulder. He sputtered for a moment, knocked off balance. He reached for your shoulder to steady himself before scanning the scene to identify his attacker. Sirius and James grinned at him cheekily, more snowballs in hands.

“Oh you two are dead!” he yelled at his best friends, kneeling down to create his own snowball. The snow war waged on for a few more minutes, you eventually being pulled into the battle. And you use it as an excuse to distract yourself from replaying the moment that you just had with Remus.

After your small moment in Hogsmeade, you felt a slight shift in your relationship with Remus. He seemed to purposely seek you out to talk to you; topics of discussion ranged from books to the upcoming holiday break to random tidbits of gossip. (Remus was a notorious gossip but he would vehemently deny it if anyone suggested it). The way he spoke to you appeared to be softer, more gentle, and when you’d find yourself alone with him in the common room late at night, the conversations seemed more intimate and vulnerable. But despite these factors, you refused to let yourself think about it too deeply. You knew Remus’s stance on romance and you didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing. Despite this though, you still reveled in each conversation, soaking up everything that he had to say. You were content just listening to him talk, hearing the melodic tone of his voice. And while late at night you fantasized that he’d confess his love to you in the same way that the leading men from your books did, you were just fine being his friend. At least that was what you told yourself.

At some point, you and Remus had formed a habit of reading together in the astronomy tower. It was almost always empty after dinner, so you and Remus would head up there and settle down next to each other to read. You would mostly read in silence, occasionally breaking the quiet tranquility to discuss something happening in your respective novels. But it was a comfortable silence, the kind of silence you had only ever experienced before with Lily. It almost scared you how fast Remus and you had become close. You thought that you had a good understanding of one another, despite only knowing each other for a few weeks. You knew that you didn’t know everything about him, but you felt that you truly knew him nonetheless.

On this night you were reading Persuasion, another muggle romance. Remus was still reading your tattered copy of A Tale of Two Cities. You had been reading for about half an hour when you began to peer over the edge of your book at Remus, something you caught yourself doing quite often.

His eyes were slightly furrowed in concentration, his thumbnail caught between his teeth. His messy hair was beginning to fall into his eyes which were sweeping across the page in front of him. He looked absolutely beautiful, and you felt as if you could spend your whole life watching him.

You eventually let your eyes fall back to your own book, attempting to avoid being caught admiring him. You spent a few more moments reading, envisioning yourself and Remus in the shoes of Anne and Captain Wentworth until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turned to look up at Remus, who was smiling gently.

“I think I’ve found your favorite part,” he said quietly. You felt yourself smile and straightened up.

“Really?” you asked excitedly. Remus nodded, shifting around so he was now facing you fully. He cleared his throat and before you realized his plan he began to read the passage out loud.

“To none. No, Miss Manette, to none. If you will hear me through a very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul,” he read. You felt yourself beam as he uttered your favorite line. It had somehow become even more romantic in his voice.

“In my degradation I have not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this homemade such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that I thought had died out of me. Since I knew you, I have been troubled by a remorse that I thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me upward, that I thought were silent forever. I have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down,” he paused to take a breath, looking up at you with flushed cheeks.

“But I wish you to know that you inspired it,” he said, finishing the paragraph. You felt yourself swoon from the combination of the romantic words of the text and Remus’s eyes boring into your own. You smiled softly at him before turning away, unable to handle the eye contact. You played with the hem of your skirt for a second, though you still felt his eyes on you.

“You guessed correctly,” you muttered, “that is my favorite part.” Remus hummed, nodding slightly.

“I can see why you enjoy it so much,” he said. From the corner of your eye, you saw him tracing his finger across the words you had underlined.

“Really? You? Mr. unromantic?” you teased. You lifted your head to look at him again. His cheeks were tinted red and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well… maybe I’m beginning to see the appeal of romance,” he said ashamedly. You furrowed your eyebrows and attempted to slow your now racing heart.

“Oh?” you said softly, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Well fictional ones at least,” he said quickly. You felt your face crumple at his words, quickly attempting to cover it up.

“Oh I understand what you mean,” you replied, trying to keep your words light. “At least now you have so many more books you can read,” you continued. Remus chuckled from beside you.

“I suppose so. Might have to borrow them from you though,” he said. “I’ll miss reading your annotations after I’m done with this,” he continued, flashing the cover of the book towards you. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and shot him a small smile.

“Well don’t worry. I have hoards of books with silly little notes in them that I can lend you,” you said with a giggle. Remus laughed with you for a moment before you turned back to your own novel. Quickly, you became engrossed in the story. So engrossed that you missed the way Remus continuously traced one line in the book. A line that had been underlined many times, in an array of colors. A line that had kept you up at night, fantasizing that someday, someone would think it of you.

“I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@goosegorl @serenefreakgeekao3 @blueflame2778

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pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years

Text

HSMTMTS 2x11: Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents... the reason for my next mental breakdown

I can't believe myself, honestly. Oversleeping on the one day of the week that I've got something exciting to wake up for? Oh well, I'm up now and I'd better go ahead and do this before my dashboard has showered me with spoilers. I mean, I have never really minded spoilers, but when it comes to this, somehow I do. Though I do wish something had forewarned me about last week's snap ending (get it, 'snap'... I'll see myself out). I'd better dive in already.

Yes, Mr Mazzara, that's what I've been saying for a while! Ok, maybe I haven't been very vocal about it, but it was in the foreground of my mind that they should have asked for Mr Mazzara's help re: transformation! I'm just glad he pointed it out. Not that he could have done much while he was busy playing therapist for his beloved Miss Jenn. Oh well.

Were those Ash and Ricky doing actual paired-up warmups? That is what they should have been doing for weeks now. That and having actual off-stage interactions, too. But I still subscribe to the theory that the gang had some good rehearsals off-screen — otherwise there's no way they could have been this good on stage as we saw in the previews. I said it last time and I'll say it again — not everything is for us to see.

Wow. The one time our leads are in unison, and it is about both being injured. The East High drama club must be cursed — they can't have one production run smoothly and without what can only be described as pure unbridled chaos.

They don't have any understudies? That explains some things... but also how? But also, I'm so happy Ashlyn is going on. No way she would have missed her first (first of many, right?) chance of being the lead because of some 'minor' injury.

Ricky and Nini still can't talk to each other properly. Oh well. Take your time. It's not like I care about this pairing anymore.

Did EJ just use the word 'dig'? Boy, the boy's got it baaaaaad. Also, what is it going to take for these two to realise they're in love? For all we know, they might have that big kiss we're all dreaming of and still be like 'nah, it's nothing, we're buddies'... give me a break! But I mean, at this point they might just be turning into Redlyn 2.0, where even a kiss doesn't define things. But hey, if they do follow in Redlyn's footsteps, that only means good things in their future, right?

What did that fake French git do to my boy Carlos? He's not supposed to look this inanimate until right before the climax of the play! Well, I mean, at least Seb serving as his interpreter means that Seb gets more lines for a bit. Too bad he can't go on for someone with more lines in the play.

Miss Jenn's 'words of inspiration' were less than inspired... yeah, this show's going down. Or it would, if it depended solely on her. Let's hope the kids do better. I mean, I know for a fact they will... at least for about 5 minutes of the thing. There is still room for things to go wrong and I'm scared.

Oh, my sweet boy... I wish I could jump in there and do something to help him feel less nervous. Thing is, if I were there, I'd probably be the most nervous of them all, even if I were playing Townsfolk #3 or something, and everyone's nervousness would rub off on me, and I would be making things worse instead of helping. So yeah, I'm kind of glad I'm not there.

Ahhhh who called it? @redlyncentral was it you? Ash got flowers for her Biggie! And there's a card whose contents we've yet to see. But that doesn't seem to be helping either. My sweet, sweet Reddy... I hope and pray he'll be alright.

Well this is awkward! Who told Mike to show up and shake everything up right now? Miss Jenn is literally on the brink of exploding, and now she's stuck in this completely unnecessary love triangle. She needs some space. And a quiet place to breathe, thanks Mr M for suggesting it.

'Did we forget to build a mote around the school or...' Yeah, you tell her, Rick! That girl whose name I never want to pronounce (because it makes me think of much nicer people and she's making me hate it) has no business being there. She's not... being given a redemption arc, is she now? Some people just don't deserve it. And if hating her is an unpopular opinion now, well, I never did care much about having popular opinions. I can live with that.

'Lily, scram!' Yes, thank you, Natalie! I've always wanted someone who would voice my thoughts in a way that the characters can hear them. Make this girl a main next season, won't you? (Just so we're crystal clear, I mean Natalie, not the other one.)

OMG Mr M is in the play! In a way... I love that!

I love, love, love the way they did the prologue. 'Repulsed [the prince makes an over-the-top gesture of repulsion] by her haggard appearance [the witch shows off her face to the audience]...' I love this. I would pay a lot for a chance to see their entire play, you know?

Oh dear, somebody give my boy Reddy some sort of... medical aid against all the throwing up! I've got a nice pill that helps me with my bad cases of motion sickness. Hey, so maybe I could have helped if I were there after all. Great, now I feel bad. But also, is all the throwing up an excuse on the writers' part to keep my boy off-screen for the majority of this episode? Because it's a really lame excuse.

Gina's 'Many questions' continues to be a mood. What exactly is Miss Jenn expecting from the kids? Last-minute adjustments? No way. This spells disaster.

Was Carlos on vocal rest or something? Because he shines like the star he is... despite all the very obvious nervousness backstage. I mean, I wouldn't have it any other way, but... oh well, I wouldn't say it's unrealistic. In my personal performing experience, the most nervous ones perform the best. (So... what is that saying for my boy Reddy? Good things only.)

I've already had the opportunity to geek out about Be Our Guest yesterday, but... I mean, just look at them! Carlos doesn't need actual candles to be on fire, Ashlyn is stealing the scene without any lines in it, Gina is absolutely gorgeous, and don't even get me started on EJ and Big Red looking at their girls in absolute awe! This is everything!

Aww, look at them! Gina and Ashlyn dancing together, I mean. They're sisters and it really shows. And I love them both so much.

Kourtney is an absolute show-stealer! I'm still upset about some casting choices (one of them is in this scene, doing his absolute best with the crumbs he has been given), but she is absolutely perfect. I think I'll rewind and watch this entire scene again before moving on with the rest of the episode.

I'd just like to point out that Frankie's voice in his lower register is everything!

'You absolutely dusted that stage'... Not EJ making a pun so punny even I could not have thought of it... boy is absolutely smitten!

Not me tearing up when Jordan Fisher appeared as Gina's brother... like, I knew it was happening — I knew it even before it was announced. And I still teared up because, well, it's emotional in-universe and out.

Awww, my boy Reddy is so in love with Ashlyn... I mean, who wouldn't be... but — not Ricky saying Lily might not be as mean as they thought. Especially not to Big Red of all people. To him, she was just as mean as they thought.

'Side hustle project in the south hallway'? Ooh, what is it, I want to know now!

Why do I feel like things are a bit too awkward between Kourtney and Howie? Not that I'm too invested in their relationship, but if it bothered me, imagine how it must feel for the stans.

No, Ash, you absolutely do not need to add any fancy riffs to the song! Especially not just because L... well, that girl did it. You're unique and lovely and a literal Disney princess inside and out. That girl? She's just a wolf in a sparkling golden dress.

Awww... Big Red literally lowers Ash's blood pressure! Those two are such an amazing couple! (Full disclosure, though, he kind of does the same for me too; the other night I had this horrible nightmare, and I woke up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, and then... ok, getting too personal there.) The point is, if even the fantasy of a Big Red hug makes me feel better, imagine what his actual presence would do for Ash at that moment. Where is my boy? Everyone seems to be looking for him.

Oh... guess they took my advice to give the poor boy something for his vomiting issue. Good for whoever thought of it.

And we're back to the Porter siblings... forgive me if I still can't wrap my head around calling Gina's brother Jamie. I don't know about you guys, but thanks to my lovely new friend Paz he will always be Theodore to me. I guess we can headcanon that as his middle name. Anyway, I love it that they made a joke about the hilarious height difference between him and Gina because, well, it's the only thing I can think about when I look at the two of them. It reminds me of me and my little cousin who has been taller than me since she was 10, and is still growing taller now at 13. But, I mean, it's not very hard to be taller than me, since I'm so, so short... ok, this is not about me. Moving on.

Was I the only one who actually laughed out loud at Ricky drinking from the bowl as the Beast? I mean, that part has always made me laugh in the original movie, but something about Ricky's take on it makes it even funnier.

Meanwhile, my girl Ash is absolutely killing it as Belle. Not me having the very same expression as Big Red while watching her... gosh, I love both of them so much! Also, no offence to the rest of the cast, but Julia really is the best vocalist out there. Out of all of them. I said what I said.

My apologies to Ricky, but his voice is just not it when it comes to playing the Beast. Still, with the other option being him putting on that fake deep voice from the audition, I'm glad he didn't.

Ahhhh Portwell nation you ok guys? Since we didn't get them singing Something There, this is very much the next best thing... and boy, is it good!

Those glances between Kourtney and Howie, on the other hand... what on Earth is happening there?

Ok, so you all know just how strongly I feel about Seb's casting as Chip, and yet... boy had one line and absolutely ate it up! Give him an actual singing role next time, Miss Jenn!

EJ being starstruck by Jamie not because he's a big music producer, but because he's Gina's brother... excuse me while I sob!

Excuse me, what!!!! 'A big brother figure'? Boy, this didn't turn out the way I thought it would... now I'm scared.

Way to ruin things, Jamie! And I don't even mean the fact that his name is not Theodore. It doesn't matter what his name is anymore. He might just have put a spanner in the works of Portwell, and they were just doing so well! Ugh, I'm so frustrated. I wish I'd never boarded — what did I call it — 'the majestic S.S. Portwell'. What if it doesn't set sail now?

And there goes another disappointment... Carlos' 'the orchestra hasn't vamped this much since Bop to the Top' line had nothing to do with Seblos, and everything to do with what might still be the downfall of this show. I am not ready.

No. Miss Jenn did not just say that. She did not just tell Ricky — who, may I remind you, not that anyone's forgotten, just fell off of a high place last episode — to 'jump off of something high'. I realise she's under all the pressure, but that is not an excuse. Well, at least she heard herself.

Oh my gods... Nini — well, Nina, actually — did not just call him 'Richard', did she? That's it, that's the point of no return. And well, I kind of wanted them to reach it.

Told you, didn't I? I told you that-girl-who-must-not-be-named was evil! I always follow my intuition and it has not once deceived me. Redeem that, if you can! Guess what? You can't. We've just reached another point of no return.

Wait, a bloody cliffhanger? I cannot handle this. I physically cannot handle this. If you need me, I'll be sitting on my bed in shock, trying to process everything that happened. I'll need a while to get a grip on myself.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #ricky bowen #nini salazar-roberts #gina porter #ej caswell #ashlyn moon caswell #big red redonovich #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew-smith #kourtney greene #hsmtmts miss jenn #hsmtmts mr mazzara #hsmtmts howie #jnk

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Our little paradise

Request: Anonymous. Hello! I was wondering if you could write something about Cevans having a panic attack or just feeling sad and the reader comforting him and then him thanking the reader and falling more in love. 🥺. That’d be so sweet. Because we know he cries a lot and doesn’t hide his emotions.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, End of holidays.

Word count: 905

A/N: This is a little bit short. I’m sorry for taking so long to respond to requests / Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Suffice it to say that there was no other way of dealing with the facts. It had been the most insanely wonderful two weeks you had spent together. The island of Ko Phi Phi Lee had captivated you, its beaches of crystal clear water, its culture and above all its tranquillity, had made you feel as if it really was a paradise, and if it wasn’t, it was very close to being one. The limestone cliffs, which rise to over a hundred metres above sea level, and its Maya bay, were your favourite tourist destinations to spend hours walking around watching the sunset.

There were no worries, no stress, no negative aspects, everything was peace, happiness and love between the two. It was a time to rediscover yourselves, to know more deeply the person you had by your side. There was nothing and no one to stop you from being who you are, so you let yourselves go by forgetting the past and focusing on the present, on the moment you were living.

But the search for tranquillity also left time to enjoy the many activities that this paradise provides. You visited most of the islands in the Phi Phi archipelago and were dazzled by Monkey Beach, a word inhabited by hundreds of monkeys where you snorkelled, realizing that neither of you were experts in the field. However, that fact did not stop you from enjoying the aquatic life of the islands and visiting the coral reefs. At night the island changed, although you took advantage of the nightlife of the island to pick up your small bungalow, it was interesting to attend the fireshows that were offered in different parts of the island.

In short, you had created your own little universe, but like every beginning there was an end. It was the last sunset on the island, the next morning a flight would take you to Los Angeles, making a stopover in Australia. Inside you could assume that they had been the fourteen most romantic days of your whole life. This was how a halo of melancholy covered you as you watched the sunset from the Mayan bay.

You were sitting on the sand in Chris’ arms, who was depositing small kisses on your bare left shoulder. You felt the roughness of his beard against the softness of your skin and that, together with the delicate coastal winds, gave you sweet pleasure. You closed your eyes so that you could expand your senses and gently leaned against Chris’ chest, who changed the destiny of his kisses to your head.

“What if we forget everything and everyone and stay here and live forever?” you asked, concluding with a sigh.

In response Chris took your hand and kissed your fingers delicately.

“We could buy a small cabin and come here to enjoy these sunsets,” you added. “We’d bring Dodger, I’m sure he’d find that a good idea too.”

Chris didn’t answer again, he just kissed your hair and let out a little sigh against him. Curiosity invaded you and with subtlety, without letting go of his embrace, you turned your face to look at your partner. Chris’ cheeks were red, partly because of the time you had spent in the sunshine those days, but partly because he was emotional. When it dawned on you, you turned your whole body around and knelt down in front of him holding his face in your hands.

“Hey… what’s going on?” you asked delicately looking into his blue eyes.

Embarrassed, he smiled at you and looked away.

“Is it because if we stay here you couldn’t have your favourite pizza?” you said jokingly, trying to find his look. “Don’t worry, I’d take care of that, I’d have a plane loaded with pizzas from Leone’s.”

Chris exhibited a small laugh as he looked into your eyes again, circling your waist with his hands and causing a closeness between the two. You discovered that he too felt that melancholy inside, it had been a very special journey and in a few hours the dream would be over.

“You know that even if we return you won’t get rid of me easily,” you arched an eyebrow.

“And I thought I was rid of that red nose,” Chris brought his nose up against yours, causing you to complain about the sting of the shock because you hadn’t put on enough sunscreen.

“Hey, don’t mess with my nose,” you put a little kiss on his nose. “You’re going to have to put up with it for a long time.”

Chris filled his lungs with air and released it as a sigh, resting his forehead on your chest. You took the opportunity to caress his naked back and kiss his head, you could be in that position all your life.

“You know I love you, don’t you?” you whispered. “And these days have been perfect with you in this paradise. Well, the truth is that even if we had gone to the worst place in the world, it would have been perfect if you were there.

You felt Chris smiling at your chest, and then approaching your neck and kissing him, making you close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Your words were sincere, anywhere he was would be perfect, and he believed them with respect to you too.

Tag list: @imerdwarf @mycosmicparadise @lavendertales

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

#chris evans x reader #chris evans #masterlist #one shot #fluff #request #y/n #imagine chris evans #marvel #mcu #ff #fan fiction #fanfic

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

Text

Prey on the Heart

Summary: Valtor is on the hunt when his hound makes an unexpected discovery - Griffin is on the premises and defenseless against his rage over her betrayal. Valtor has to decide what catch he’s after - her head or their love. AU.

CW: Blood, dog bites, injury neglect, non-graphic violence and sex

This has been an outlined idea for almost 11 months. It was supposed to be an entry for Whumptober last year but I managed to turn it back into romance instead of torture somehow. I never got around to writing it unti today the universe conspired to bring it into existence and I am so happy to have finally finished it!

Love Again by Dua Lipa is giving me feels for this AU so give it a listen if you want.

The tufts of yellowed grass barely rustled under his feet as he followed the hound south. A little further and they'd leave the borders of the Coven's estate for the uninhabitable wasteland his mothers hadn't bothered to purchase even at the low cost of Obsidian land.

The rainless summer had left the otherwise infertile ground dry and cracked, no prints marring it's hardened surface. The hound was relying purely on her animal instincts and despite the boost from his magic, his senses couldn't catch up. He was barely keeping up with Violet herself glancing around for a trace on the foliage of what she'd sniffed.

He caught a strangled scream without the need to strain his ears. It was loud and clear despite the attempt to muffle it. He'd thought it was an animal the hound had shot after but that scream... It was a human voice. A familiar voice.

He followed the sound, steps hurried and heavy on the ground to chase away any game in the vicinity but he'd have his prize regardless. Unless he was dreaming or under one of mother Lysslis' illusion spells.

He called the dog back to lead him to where she'd left her victim. He'd seen Violet do her thing under Lysslis' training. Whenever she got her teeth into something, it wasn't getting away before she let go. And it wasn't getting away after that either.

Violet's teeth had a wet red tint to them, muzzle damp with blood and saliva as her nostrils expanded voraciously with every breath from the heavy copper smell. She circled him frantically and dashed forward only to run back to him in an attempt to prompt him to catch up with her speed. At least she was happy with her find.

An unusual circle of trees formed a perfectly lined up clearing in the forest. Stepping inside it left him face to face with a lone tree in the middle that was keeled over and charred. It must have been stricken by a lightning but its sturdy, forked roots had grounded it deep in the soil to make it the only thing standing in the clearing.

Leaning on the other side of it, partially concealed by its thick trunk, was none other than Griffin. Her hands trembled as she tightened the knot on the bandage she'd wrapped around her bleeding calf. She hissed when the dirty rag she'd torn from the hemline of her tattered and muddied dress constricted the tender wound Violet had left in her wake. And to think Griffin had been the one who'd gifted him the hound when she'd still been a pup that had fit in the palm of his hand. Valtor had even named her after Griffin, the striking shade of her hair coloring everything from his sketches to the very dreams his subconscious concocted. If she hadn't left so soon after presenting him with the puppy, Violet may have remembered her scent. Not that that would have given her a chance against Lysslis' conditioning of all hunting dogs, including Valtor's personal hound.

Griffin's eyes pinned the hound where it was pacing from one side to another behind Valtor's legs with her tail wagging and her labored breaths filling the silence of his own lungs. The sight of him had Griffin's whole body tensing as her hands hit the tree bark behind her back and she scrambled to her feet.

Her movements were lagging from the pain and panic dripping from her hunched form. Her hair fell down her back matted with red where she'd brushed it back with bloodied hands. Large chunks of unrefined obsidian crystals were strapped to her wrists with clumsy threads of silver into bracelets that ran up her arms under her sleeves.

She'd made those herself–in a hurry–her magic pulling the crystals and metal straight from the core of the planet. They would have impeded any other witch considering his own mothers' magic was notably subdued by the large deposits of obsidian under the planet's surface but not her. Crystals were one of her areas of expertise–and the reason why she'd walked into his life–yet even her knowledge had failed her along with her luck. She'd made it to the very edge of the territory controlled and owned by the Coven under the protection of the black crystals she'd adorned herself with to ward off dark magic but still not far enough.

It had been fear cutting off her magic to prevent her from fashioning herself a bandage the way she'd crafted her protection charms. Her golden eyes were wide like pits of inextinguishable fire and her chest wasn't moving to push the ample cleavage her dress left exposed into the forefront of his mind. She'd had an easier time drawing breath with the weight of his head nestled over her ribcage, over her heart beating steadily with the promise of her presence.

Valtor's step forward echoed like a gunshot in her body. Her back pressed into the tree, muscles pulled taut with compressed energy readying her to pounce.

"Run." His first word to her. He could have lost a bet that it would be a vile curse in a lost language only she could understand. "I dare you." She'd turned her back and left unprompted. If she still abode by that logic, then she'd have to stay.

Griffin swallowed. "You're going to hunt me down like an animal?" Her teeth gritted as she strained against her eyes slipping from his form.

His fingers clenched to white around the cold metal of his shotgun. Her jaw would have been dust in his grip where he wanted it to tip her head back and pin her gaze with his. She'd forced him to endure far greater pain being the one left behind. She hadn't earned the right to writhe and scream in agony.

"Violet here is an animal," he extended his hand and the hound pressed her head into his open palm. She always obeyed his calls, never running off where she wouldn't hear him and come back. "She is loyal and dependable which is more than I can say about you." He may have named the dog after Griffin but he'd raised Violet to never follow in her footsteps.

"So I am less than an animal to you, too?" Her gaze darted to the dog and back – to the piece of herself she hadn't stolen from him.

Valtor frowned, hand stilling between Violet's ears to make her rub it in his fingers insistently. He ignored her.

"What do you mean to me too?" Once again Griffin took precedence. Over his hunt, over his dog, over his own heart. Only his stomach sank from the prediction of what he'd hear from her mouth.

"You think I came here on a picnic with only the dress on my back?" Griffin stood steady on her feet, her tenacious nature breathing life into a smirk he had to bite back.

He hadn't given thought to the circumstances of their meeting. Her aching form in front of his eyes was everything. One blink and she'd melt away, swept up into another one of the portals the locations of which she was best at estimating. Indeed her presence on top of her disheveled state posed multiple questions he hadn't paid mind to. He was making it too easy for her to deceive him again.

"Your mothers chased me down and electrocuted me to the point of nearly frying my organs," her arms crossed over her belly to raise alarms in his head. If anything gave him the strength to best mother Tharma, it would be the rage over touching what was his. Griffin was a central part of that even if revenge was all that was left between them. That and the truth she spoke. "They kept me locked up for weeks in a tiny shoe box where I couldn't even stand up straight and only let me out last night. Right as darkness fell for me to read on the star-filled sky that it was the first day of hunting season."

There was disdain in her voice instead of the fear everyone else held for the way his mothers took beauty and strength and twisted it into despair. They had taken her love of astronomy and turned it into the herald of her death sentence. Just like they'd repopulated the area around their estate with hunting game only to have their fill of murdering unsuspecting animals.

Griffin's eyes burned so fiercely he half expected the tree behind her to catch fire. "They let me out to be your prey." And she'd dashed for the quickest route out of there. She hadn't come back for him.

"You betrayed me."

Violet sat down on her hind legs, body taut like a string and tail beating harshly into the dust. She would leap at the smallest shift in him.

Griffin was like a rock in front of him. His fire wouldn't touch her and his bullets would bounce back at him. "They are enslaving people and I didn't know I was helping them."

He hadn't told her. All he could have given her had been the illusion of a choice. She never would've picked him if he'd let his mothers force her to lay the world at their feet. It had been the only chance the two of them had had to be together.

"I had to put an end to it."

"You betrayed me!" Valtor raised the shotgun, his hands shaking too violently to aim it more precisely than just in Griffin's general direction as he stalked closer. Violet was growling on his left to keep his flank safe. "I gave you my everything. You were all I had and you left!"

All the riches flowing into Obsidian under his mothers' direction and Griffin's accurate calculations of opening portals to other planets were resources for the Coven's needs, not for his personal use. He wasn't even allowed in certain rooms of the mansion. The magic in his very veins had been embedded there by his mothers' efforts and lessons. Griffin had been the one building a little home with him in the room they'd come to share, she'd been the one putting a heartbeat in his palms only to leave him clutching empty sheets with a cold blade sticking out of his chest.

"Bursting your heart into atoms is exactly what you deserve." He stalked closer, the cool barrel of his shotgun and Violet's razor-sharp teeth were his only defense. The obsidian on Griffin's wrists weakened his magic and the shine of her eyes had obliterated his resolve to chase her down even from his memories.

Griffin's eyes hardened, hands balling into fists. "If you're going to shoot me, do it!" she grabbed the shotgun and pressed it into her bare skin.

The force threw him off balance and he stumbled forward, pushing the stiff metal into her sternum while her breath invaded his mouth with their faces inches apart. "Do not. Tempt me," he growled, his fingers twitching from her audacity to wrap around her throat and force more breath from her.

"Do it!" Griffin was still gripping the shotgun close to her heaving chest unafraid of the fire that could burst from the contact. "I knew this–seeing you again–would be the end of me. But if taking the shot is what will take your pain away, then I'm ready to go. As long as it will let you live." Her eyes lost focus and her head lulled, a small smile tugging at her lips and his heartstrings as her gaze dropped to Violet.

The dog was pacing behind him to no reason or direction. Her nose was lowered into the dirt in defeat.

Valtor forced Griffin's head back with the barrel of his shotgun until their eyes were locked together. "Do you think I'm that dumb? That I'll believe you after all your lies?" He had to watch out for the hands. One wrong move and they'd be in his chest again. Or his would be in her hair under the clink of his forgotten shotgun to draw a moan out of her that would melt him in a puddle at her feet.

"It doesn't matter what you believe, what either one of us believes." Vulnerability was sealed in her eyes like they were amber preserving history. Bullets wouldn't work on them. Shattering them would only spill the truth of his own wrongdoings. "It will not change the fact that I love you." A gasp came – from him or from her. "You can cut me open and reach inside me to feel it if you need to. It will still be there once my heart has stopped. Not even the planet can absorb it."

His hands shook as the shotgun trailed back between her breasts. The dry ground would soak up her blood instead of water and the forest would claim her body but the energy pouring from her wouldn't disappear in the well in the planet's core. Obsidian absorbed negativity from all over the universe to cleanse it and Griffin had thought it fair to trade protection for resources borrowed from other planets when it had little to no of its own. But she was offering her life to him for nothing in return. She was offering the purity of her love and that wasn't something the planet could protect from or swallow.

Valtor licked his lips. His mouth watered in her proximity for her to plant her deception into it. Yet his tongue hardly moved with his words in the breeze her breath was on his taste buds. "You're playing mind games. This is nothing more than manipulation." She could be an inch from his face and hop into a portal to the other end of the universe in the blink of an eye. And he hadn't been able to follow despite the pull in his heart.

"Nothing's stopping you from pulling the trigger. Or taking your hunting knife and carving out my heart." The blade weighed on his chest from its secret pocket as her voice reverberated through him. "Go ahead! Eat it like I always knew you would. And once its in your system, so will be my love." Her hand slid down the barrel of the shotgun, her fingers bathing his in their heat. "It will be a part of you, flowing through your veins and making you mine forever. Death by your hand does not scare me. I'll never die inside you."

The metal burned in his hand. Or that was the love for her that had never gone out. Not even at the look of the vast blackness of the sky where she could have disappeared forever. "You know I won't-"

"I know you want to." Griffin's hand slipped on top of his, colder than the blade of his knife over his heart. "But you won't. You pull that trigger and you lose me forever. You're not going to cause yourself that pain. Not even after I ran away." Her skin was like stone grinding against his to chip away his resistance. She knew him to his selfish core. Having her love forever inside him where he wouldn't be able to touch it wouldn't be enough even if she wouldn't be able to leave again.

"How could you bring my heart back after you fled with it?" It was right there clasped between her teeth. A kiss would free it and tugging at it with all his might would rip it to shreds. It was a miracle Griffin hadn't chewed it to bits when Violet's teeth had sunk into her flesh.

"Because we belong to each other. With each other." Her heart trembled in her pulse point for him to see. "No portal between worlds can change that. Not the one that took me away and not the one that brought me back."

How could he kill her when simply hating her would pull her out of his arms? Taking a step back would make him crumble under his self-loathing. He couldn't be the one to take her away from himself. Not when she was right there like a vision. One only she could make come true.

"Would you have ever come back if my mothers hadn't dragged you here?"

"Does it matter?" her voice was like a gunshot in his ears, like the weapon in his hand had gone off pressed into his own chest rather than hers.

The metal clanked as it hit the ground where he threw it and a shot echoed through the forest on accident that had Violet barking frantically. It could have been Griffin's magic wringing the bullet from his shotgun to drop him dead – he didn't care. His fingers had the freedom to tangle in her purple tresses again and a moan greeted him on her lips when he pulled her to his mouth.

No. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what could have happened when she was in his arms, chest pressing into his with her ragged breaths. She returned his kisses, teeth sliding over his lips to mark her territory like her life depended on it although she could pick up his shotgun and leave a hole in his chest. All she had to do to get away with murder was part with several hairs and blink back the tears from having them torn away in his death grip. Yet, all she was grasping at were the lapels of his coat to hold him in the reach of her kisses. She was still giving him everything she had with the threat to her life gone. It was all the proof he could want.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted her against the tree. The bandage on her calf was wet with blood under his fingers but she was pulling him closer like she'd lost her mind to love and couldn't understand it was impossible to push herself into him more. Her magic would be no use for healing in her state and his would be no use at all.

Her skin was still soft despite the odd chilliness that had fallen over it and broke under his teeth on her collar bone to let him have her blood. Her wet flesh welcomed him as he entered her once he'd pulled all the fabric of her dress and underwear out of his way. His fingers dipped under her neckline to find her breast but brushed over dried mud instead. The rough surface of confusion threw him back into a questioning stare aimed at her.

"My chest was pierced by the Obsidian belladonna your mothers pushed me on." Obsidian threads from the land ran through the plant to claim each part of it and give it a crown of crystal-edged petals. The black crust was like a blade that cut through the flesh to release the poison of the belladonna directly into the bloodstream. Only Griffin's magic had saved her life from the toxins rushing from the roots to the petals of the plant. "The blood from the wound would draw the dog to me for sure in case my deep frozen state interfered with my scent." She didn't have to tell him it had been mother Belladonna's idea and magic to do all of that to her.

Valtor ran his hands over every inch of her in his reach. Her skin had remained cold after a full night of running. He had refrained form startling her with his magic but the heat of it passed from him into her to leave her body all his to claim with Belladonna's frost retreating from it. Griffin was burning now, hot moans dropping from her mouth with every thrust as she reached a hand under her dress to stroke them both further into the heights of pleasure. His open-mouthed kisses to her neck let him feel every breath and his tongue leaving a warm, wet trail over the column of her throat had her gasping. He'd cover her all in himself to erase the horror they'd been subjected to.

"We have to get you out of here." His mothers would finish the hunt themselves if he came back to the mansion without a trophy for their walls.

"Get the dog out of here." Griffin's voice wavered as she moved her palm under his shirt to brace herself on his abs. She let out a shuddering sigh, eyelids falling over the suns of his world. "We don't need public. She already saw enough." Griffin licked her lips, head falling back to thud against the tree trunk lightly with every push of his hips into her. Her back would be bruised with reminders of the movements they'd shared like they were one.

Valtor's whistle had Violet's attention and he sent her to keep the perimeter clear. His mothers wouldn't dirty their hands right away and she could hold her own against any other Coven member to buy him and Griffin time to talk.

He'd spend eternity watching Griffin's face scrunched up in concentration as she grabbed at her pleasure, hips matching his motions, but they had no more than a couple hours. "We need a plan."

Griffin knit her eyebrows at his interruption. "I had one right before they dragged me out of my life. I found a small island of pure amethyst orbiting an uninhabited planet." Energy currents turned all kinds of crystal structures into mini heavenly bodies. Someone with her talents had no trouble finding all the curiosities of space. "I was going to go there. Live on the planet and meditate on the island to clear my thoughts and overcome my grief." Amethyst was good for that. Just the shade of her hair cleansed his mind from agony to leave him clutching harder at the purple strands to keep them from slipping through his fingers.

"I wasn't dead." Abandoned but not dead. Not yet. He'd retreated into the dreams of a sky set ablaze in violet by a rising sun. They'd become his poison and his cure until she'd come back to put his heart back together.

Griffin's eyes snapped open, tears gleaming all over their gold. "I was dead to you."

"Not dead. Never dead." His fingers slid over the top of her breast to the wound she'd closed with mud to make her the one shivering. Her cold, lifeless body stuffed in his mind would force him apart at the seams.

"I was hoping there I would come up with a strategy for future action," Griffin continued to distract him. She rolled her hips into him and gave him a moan to ensure her success.

"Good." He leaned in to pant against her ear. "You continue according to plan then." His mothers would never look for her there. The only resource they'd ever pursued was human lives. His job had been to keep her distracted so she'd do the groundwork unknowingly.

"What about you?" He could hear her frowning over the pain of her nails digging into his abs.

He grabbed her wrist and pressed it harder into him so she'd be branded over his body. "I can't come. They'd put everything into finding us. It'd be more dangerous."

Griffin pushed her body flush against him, all of her weight falling on his muscles with her back barely brushing the tree. Her teeth were gliding over his neck but she pierced him with her voice instead. "You can't go back without my corpse."

He kissed her forcefully, tongue stuffing her mouth to trap the words there. They'd suffocate with no oxygen and Griffin yielded to him for a moment, pulling him closer until they were out of breath.

They fell back on the tree and a whimper was forced from her lips. Their mouths were just an inch away, breath mingling between them in perfect harmony. He had to be the one to speak first and keep the magic alive.

"You left once because there were people who needed help." Because he'd lied to her that that wasn't the case to keep her to himself. Her heart was bigger than his and he'd tried to cut it down in fear of the difference between them.

"Valtor-"

"I'm not losing you again." Because her heart was so big, he had a home. And she could give the same to others, too. "Once you have a plan, we end this once and for all and you'll never leave my side again." He had to let go of her hand to slip his fingers between her legs and drive her wild with his love for her.

Griffin was the one grabbing his wrist now. "I don't want to leave you with them again." Her fingers clasped his in a firm grip despite the trembling of her body. "They'll pay you back for not bringing their plan for us to fruition."

"They can't. Without you they need someone else to open portals for them." He'd picked up enough from the time they'd spent together to do that job without giving her perfect results. No one else could fill that role for his mothers' plan and the punishment for letting Griffin escape hadn't been nearly severe enough thanks to his usefulness. "You already gave me a weapon against them." He stroked his fingers over her arousal. It was only his place to be the source of her shaking. She deserved all the pleasure she could stand.

"I've made you a weapon for them," Griffin arched into his touch to escape the guilt she was trying to pile on herself.

Valtor thrust into her with all the vigor she'd given him to make her eyes roll in the back of her head and her thighs quiver around him. "They won't get to use me long but you're the only one who can find out how to stop them. You have to be protected." If his mothers wanted her dead instead of brainwashed and turning Obsidian into their empire of slavery, then she was dangerous enough to bring them down. "I'll come for you. Now come for me."

"Valtor."

It was not a scream of passion. It was an uttered love confession that made him weak in the knees. Supporting her was the only thing keeping him upright through his weakness. She was still bleeding – not just from her calf, but from her chest, too. If having his heart hadn't mended the wound he'd left on hers with his lies, he had to give her more. He had to send her away to heal so that the world could become a home for them again.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #au #prey on the heart

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supercantaloupe · 3 years

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@dimension20alphabet prompt fill #4: dreams

title: Following Signs - campaign: Fantasy High: Sophomore Year - 1141 words - set leading up to s2e7.

For as long as Ayda can remember, she has dreamed of something.

For her whole life -- or, at least, this incarnation of it -- Ayda has dreamed of something. As a young one under the watchful care of Garthy she couldn’t place what it was exactly, despite feeling it gnaw and tug at her heart inside her all the time. She’d feel it when she would see Garthy laughing, chatting, schmoozing, charming effortlessly the patrons of their beloved Gold Gardens, and the familiar faces with whom they seemed to get along particularly well. Ayda studied them so closely from her table in the corner, instructed to eat her dinner and not wander off (lest her little eyes see something they oughtn’t yet), taking notes in a journal with a quill plucked from her own wing. The ink dried almost instantaneously with this pen; she crossed a lot of things out as she wrote, correction after correction after correction.

She wondered at first, perhaps, if her dream was to have a home as lively and hospitable as the Gold Gardens. But she already had a home: that grand library up in Crow’s Keep she’d already spent lifetimes curating. (Her notes said so. Garthy said so.) But it was as an adolescent when she first began to understand what she dreamt of.

At 12, she took an interest in the divination books of her extensive collection of wizard tomes. More than any other school, they fascinated her. The words on these pages told her that with diligence and study and practice, she could divine the nature of the universe, of prophecy, of dream. She poured over her books, and began writing a new one of her one: a journal, always slung safely from a belt round her hip, close at hand when she sleeps perched in the rafters to write anything and everything she can remember of her dreams.

At 13, she discovers her Friendship Section. The year’s worth of subconscious thoughts and scrambled attempts at deciphering their meanings scratched into her journal now focused into crystal-clear understanding: this was her dream. This was what she’d been dreaming of, not just in this lifetime but before, too.

She could run her fingers along the rows and rows of books that neatly lined the shelves here, and read them all cover-to-cover over the next five years, yet never make any new progress. She could study Garthy’s interactions again, but failed utterly and miserably to replicate their successes when she tried for herself. She could ponder for hours and hours over every dream -- for she still had them most nights -- to unwind their meanings, what they were telling her. They had to mean something. They had to be foretelling something. She’s been studying divination, too, and she’s quite good at it now. Not just in dreams, she can see it, but there are signs everywhere: the drift of the city under the stars, the leaves of tea swirled in the bottom of her empty cup.

One day as Rawlins sweeps up sand on the floor of the observatory, she screeches for him to halt and flies down. “Wait!” she commands, very carefully maneuvering her landing so as not to blow any grains astray. The old pirate grunts his confusion as the wizard bends over the messy floor, intently staring down, memorizing the patterns in the sand. It spells out something, she can just feel it. With another screech, she takes off again and flies up to her perch, producing her journal and immediately opening it to write something.

“Mistress, the sand?” Rawlins croaks.

“Back to work, Rawlins!” Ayda commands again, not looking up.

Her dream, last night, something was different about it. The leaves in her tea that morning had been strange. Now, the sand, swept across the floor in patterns that couldn’t possibly be mere coincidence. She combs through her fortune telling books, trying to divine what is meant by it all, what is coming. All she can tell is that something is coming, and soon, something big.

That night she stays out til dawn, searching the sky and all its stars for answers. She feels her heart stir, and wonders if this is her dream.

Being up all night, she naps through the morning on her perch in the observatory. She doesn’t dream this time; odd. Something is up.

She’s awoken from her sleep by the sound of unfamiliar young voices. She screeches awake and takes off, landing in a flourish of flame before the group, and looking them over. Strange-looking adolescents, like her.

They chatter and giggle among themselves as though she cannot hear. “Guys, guys, I think this is the creature Arthur Aguefort made for me.” “No.” “No!” “This is a full person. This is a full, sentient person.” “It was kind of wishful thinking!” “Fig, you should feed it.” “What are you, I , excuse--”

One of them holds out a hand of food. Ayda stares at them. “Do you offer this food to me as a gift?”

The person blinks. “Yes.”

“Then I do not accept. I will be in no one’s debt as a wizard.”

“Oh, okay.” They shrug and eat the food themself. Ayda cocks her head to the side, perplexed.

“Are you now in your own debt?” she asks.

They chatter amongst themselves again. “Are you eating birdseed?” “I owe myself.” “Aren’t we all in our own debt?”

Ayda’s eyes widen slightly and she nods curiously. “Oh, are we all in our debt?” Something in her chest begins to burn a little. The patterns in the stars, the sand, the tea leaves, there is a resemblance here, coming back to the front of her memory.

They are noisy, and they are rowdy, and they are rude, and very confusing and overwhelming. But more than anything else, they are compelling. And Ayda watches them jabber and jostle and stumble over themselves to talk with her and she sees in them what she has always been missing, what she has always been dreaming of. And her longing for it burns more brightly now than ever, with it so close.

“150 gold pieces and I will honor this favor for my friend Garthy O'Brien and give you the spell,” she offers to the group, after a frankly ridiculous amount of distraction and tangenting for one conversation. The blonde elf of their group hands her the money and Ayda leads her off into the library. Her friends spread out to explore other sections on their own, but as they walk together, the elf talks lightly about what she and her friends are here for, about their quest and her magic.

When Ayda gets her settled into a study space with the necessary books on Sending, she leaves her be to work alone. As she goes, she produces her dream journal and makes a note. Check back later -- this is your dream.

#d20alphabet21 #fantasy high #ayda aguefort #fantasy high sophomore year #fanfic #dimension 20 #dimension 20 live #let the poet bless this round #oh no help me these keep getting longer #no proofreading we die like men

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

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Fortune’s Rule, Part Four

And here it is, the final section of Fortune’s Rule! I hope you enjoy! I don’t know, maybe “enjoy” isn’t the right word for this story. You’ll see what I mean.

Part One, Two, Three

Pairing: Damian Priest x OFC

Word count: 2,615

Content advisory: smut, dark/ supernatural themes, brief references to drug addiction

The next night, you have a narcotics anonymous meeting before work. There are two new people and normally you like to know what spurs a person to come here, quietly hoping that one of them will have a story as horrible as yours so that you can finally confess to someone.

You need to get it outside of you.

Damian’s voice has been echoing in your head since you left him last night. Although he didn’t specifically say that this meant confession, you don’t know how else it would work. Would that even work, though? Just because you tell your truth, does that mean that it’s no longer locked up inside you? Or does it get locked back in and just hang like a toxic cloud over everyone you tell it to. It’s not like it’s safe for you to chance it.

You know that certain people are required to keep your secrets. And technically speaking, you don’t know that you’ve done anything illegal. Immoral, yes. Plus there’s a chance that someone is looking for the money you carry around your body like a lodestone.

You want to tell Damian. Part of you wonders if you even need to tell him, or if he knows your sordid story already. He knows something. He knew something when he put his face between your legs last night. He knew you had a bad story attached to you but he still said that you deserved to feel relaxed.

What you want most of all is to see him again. Your body hasn’t stopped buzzing. Even when you slept- much better than usual- you dreamed of him, of his touch and dark eyes, of him leading you forward through foggy ground, leading you out of the woods where you’d been trapped.

You stay quiet during the meeting, lost in your thoughts, and leave as soon as things are officially over. Often when you have a meeting, you’re a few minutes late for work because you chat a little with the other penitents. This time, you’re a few minutes early.

It’s not a busy night, so you find yourself staring across the street, waiting for signs of life. They never materialize. A few guys hang around until late, one of them obviously trying to chat you up, but by about quarter to two, they go on their way and you can lock up.

You drag out the closing process, looking out the window frequently to no avail. Finally, you have to leave in order to stop yourself from spending the whole night sitting in the dark and waiting for him to arrive.

In a last, desperate move, you dart across the street and ring the doorbell.

“Damian,” you call softly, “it’s me. Can I come in?”

But there’s no answer. You feel like he’s in there somewhere, like his dark energy swirls around you like a vortex. Nothing but silence.

So you trudge away home. Tonight, your body feels heavy and cumbersome. The electricity that’s been coursing through you for 24 hours dissipates into a deep ache. You drag yourself to bed feeling old and broken down. Your ribs are sore. Your back is sore. Your legs are sore.

Your head pulses and it feels like there are bits of sand or glass pressing into your scar, as if it was still an open wound. Sleep comes at you thick and dreamless. You’re aware that you are alone in the dark, steeling yourself for your monsters to approach, but in the end you’re alone, oppressed by the quiet and loneliness. In a way, it’s worse than the nightmares.

This is not restful sleep. You try to take a nap the next day but it doesn’t quite happen. So you drink too much coffee and spend hours jittery and anxious. You’re early for work again because you need something to do and you tell yourself that you can keep your eyes off the shop across the street, even though you know it’s a lie. Even when people start to arrive, you’re cutting glances out the window. Around 11:30, the sign flashes to life and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from throwing all your customers out immediately so that you can see him.

Be good, you tell yourself. He’s there and that means you can see him again.

A number of people pass in and out of his shop and you hate every single one of them for getting to spend time with him while you’re stuck here. It feels like hours before the place empties out even though it’s only one. You clean up faster than you ever have before and sprint across the street.

The doorbell is answered immediately when you ring and you feel such relief when you step across the threshold that you want to cry out. But then it’s immediately supplanted by more anxiety.

Damian appears with a thin bohemian looking woman, his hand resting affectionately on her shoulder. The look she gives you makes it clear that she hates seeing you there as much as you hate seeing her. Damian ushers her outside, leaning through the door so that you can’t make out what he says to her nor if he touches her as they say their good nights.

He steps back inside, locking the door and heading back to the cash without acknowledging you.

After a moment, he glances up, grinning and rubbing at his chin.

“Another satisfied customer,” he purrs.

You stand there, dumbfounded, staring at his pleased expression, wishing that you could melt like a candle on the spot. He fiddles with his cash register, counting out some bills and putting them in his pocket. Finally, he looks up at you, his expression confused, like you’re behaving very strangely.

“Something the matter?” He asks casually.

“I didn’t realize…” You’re at a loss for how to continue. It hadn’t occurred to you that there were other women in the picture. It hadn’t occurred to you that what he did to you was just something he did. It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had been eager to see him because you’d felt that something special had happened between you.

“You thought that we were a couple?”

“No,” you insist, “that’s not it. I just didn’t know it was something you did for everyone.”

He laughs. “Well it’s not something I do for everyone. But if that’s what’s needed then it’s a service I’m happy to provide.”

“A service,” you repeat dumbly. “I guess maybe I should pay you, then.”

“I told you it was on the house.” He quirks an eyebrow. “You’re really mad.”

“No. I should go.”

“Stay,” he purrs. “Come in back with me. We’ll talk.”

“Talk.”

He pulls aside the curtain to the back room and leans against the door frame. There’s something feral about him, and you have to admit that part of what makes him so intensely desirable is that he gives off this untameable air. So you bow your head a little and once again enter the red-lit room where he first put you under his spell.

He strolls over to the bathroom and you see him swig some mouthwash before he comes to join you. Most men would make some effort to conceal what they’d been doing or what they expect to be doing with you but Damian clearly couldn’t care less. He walks over to where you’re seated at his divining table and places a long hand at the side of your head and leans down to speak.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispers, his lips fluttering against your skin.

He takes his place on the other side of the table but there are no cards, no attempts to see your palm, no crystal ball.

“I guess I thought maybe I was special,” you grumble.

“You are special.”

“You know what I mean. Special enough that you might want to focus on me for a bit.”

“Who says I don’t?”

“Ok, this is going nowhere.”

“Your scar is brighter.”

“What do you mean brighter?” Reflexively, you touch your hand to your forehead and are a little surprised at how the mark seems very cold to the touch.

“It looks brighter when you’re hurting. It didn’t have any kind of light in it when you left the other night and I was hoping I did a good enough job to spare you at least a few more days of pain.”

“It’s just a headache,” you answer, noticing for the first time that your head is hurting quite a bit.

“You know that’s not the kind of pain I meant.”

“Right, you’re concerned about the pain in my soul.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not at the moment.” The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes until something simply comes out of you unbidden. “I think I lost my soul in the accident.”

Damian raises his eyebrows as if he’s shocked, although somehow you get the feeling he isn’t. “Was the accident your fault?”

“No,” you tell him, shaking your head to emphasize your point, “definitely not. It was stupid that I was even around. I shouldn’t have been there.”

“So why were you?”

“I don’t know,” you groan. “I was with my boyfriend. I just sort of did whatever he did. I didn’t think much about it.”

“But he’s not the reason you think you’ve lost your soul.”

You shake your head, memories of the woods, the sound and the smell of the river, of how cold and wet you were, of how heavy the satchel of money felt whenever you tried to move, all those memories push in on you with all their weight until you feel tears leaking from your eyes. You hug your bag with the remains of your fortune, Cynthia’s furious appeals for help ringing off the inside of your skull.

Your vision is blurred and so you don’t notice that Damian is in front of you until he lifts you to your feet and kisses you, his tongue licking the tears from your lips. You shouldn't give into him so easily, but it’s like his kiss makes you feel alive again and the heat of his body dissolves the heavy chill that’s settled over you.

As the two of you pull apart, you see his eyes flash towards a corner of the room that has another curtain.

“Is that the inner sanctum?” You joke quietly.

“That’s where I sleep.” He strokes along your jaw, tilting your head back to face him. “Would you like to see?”

“Am I allowed?”

“You are when I invite you. And if you want to.”

You nod and his lips are on yours again, more passionate and energetic. He guides you to the part of the room hidden behind the thick tapestry and gently pushes you down on the enormous bed which is practically the only thing there. He lights a few candles that are in the windows before crawling over you, one hand roaming under your shirt and up your chest until he catches your breast, pinching and lightly twisting the nipple as he plants a delicate string of kisses on the underside of your jaw.

“You sure you want this?” He asks, his voice deeper than ever.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

He slides your shirt off and licks at your nipples while he reaches down to rid you of your skirt as well. You kick off the worn boots you have on as he sheds his own shirt. You’re almost unable to move as your eyes hungrily admire his carved, tattooed body, but your fingers fumble their way to his belt buckle of their own accord, working with him to loosen it and remove his pants. He’s wearing nothing underneath and so you’re immediately greeted by his cock, a few shades darker than the skin of his body, long and taut like the rest of him.

You lean forward to take him in your mouth, reveling in the earthy taste of him, the drops of precum that oil your tongue while you sigh and him around him. He lets out a series of low, lusty sounds before grabbing your hair and pulling you off him, throwing you back against the bed.

The second your back hits the mattress, it’s like you black out for a second, it’s like you fall right back into your brain, into the memory of your night in the woods, so vividly that you feel that same buzzing sensation through your whole body as you fell asleep there, of how aware you were of the too-bright moon fading to darkness over your shivering form.

Then you’re back in Damian’s bed with him, the steady flames of the candles putting stars in your eyes. The man pins both your arms with one of his and draws his prick through the soaked flesh of your sex.

“You ready for this?”

“Yes,” you whine.

He pushes in hard and rough, biting down on your throat and the insides of your arms while he pounds into you. It’s almost enough to be uncomfortable. Almost. You can feel the orgasm building inside you with every stroke and touch, building for what feels like an impossible length of time. It’s like your body is rising and tightening as it approaches the threshold of ecstasy like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Damian’s gorgeous body is damp with sweat but he shows no signs of tiring. In fact, it’s like he gains energy the longer and harder he fucks you.

“Do you feel that?” He pants, his dark eyes gleaming, the candlelight reflected in their depths.

At first, you don’t know what he means but then you feel the orgasm break over you at the same time as he releases inside you. But that’s not all. He continues to move and the feeling of your orgasm goes on, not in waves but at a constant pitch until you’re so sensitive that the movements are as painful as they are pleasurable. He too appears to plateau indefinitely, his sounds and movements increasingly wild and bestial.

He presses a heavy hand over your face, pushing your eyelids closed.

There you are under the moon in the forest, crouched on the ground. You’re staring at your own form, wrapped around the bag of money, taking shelter behind the fallen tree. It’s like seeing yourself while you sleep but that’s not it. You can still feel the pain in your limbs but it’s fading, your nerves going numb. You’re colder than you’ve ever been, freezing.

You sit there and watch your unmoving body, feeling the sensation draining from it.

Damian slides his hand down to your throat, squeezing lightly and bringing you back to him, just for a second. Then you’re thrown back to watching. And you stare as the body, your body, shudders and the air hisses from it. Blood drips from the wound on your head, onto the tree trunk and down to the ground, splattering the leaves beneath. You look into your own glazed eyes. They do not look back.

“Where are you?” Damian snarls, his movements finally slowing a little.

“I’m in the forest,” you croak, shuddering at the pain in your head and ribs, which feel like they’ve been crushed.

“Where are you?” He hisses again, licking your cheek and nipping the flesh.

The realization is like a blow. “Dead,” you rasp.

His movements still at last and he lifts himself over you, his entire eyes black with flames trapped inside them.

“Where are you?” He asks a final time.

You cry a little, afraid of what’s to come, but finally you speak.

“In hell.”

#damian priest fanfic #damian priest imagine #nxt imagine #nxt fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wayward wrestle writing

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icedthoma · 4 years

Note

Haunted Bakugo 😅 (still don’t know how to spell his name don’t at me. I just got into the explosive boy)

Don’t worry, you got it right ;)

Last concept request! I struggled so much writing this lmaO I’m not good at angst T-T @katsukiscaramel tsym for the help

Thank you all who requested, and all of you who dropped a comment or reblog! It all means a lot <3

Bakugou still remembers the day he made the biggest mistake of his life.

Much like a ship that needed spare cargo to be thrown overboard to move faster, the freshly graduated Katsuki needed to decide what in his life was that spare cargo, that dead weight that could be sacrificed to fulfill his goals.

And he foolishly, stupidly, mindlessly chose you.

“Dead weight, huh?” you say when he tells you that this, whatever this is the two of you have, will just get in the way of his dreams of becoming the number one pro hero. That it was fun while it lasted during high school, but the two of you are adults now, and things are different. Bakugou forces himself to ignore the way your eyes are shining and how your bottom lip is trembling, because he can’t give in to the part of him that’s irrational, the part of him that’s in love with you and not his career. “I get it. Have a nice life, Ground Zero.”

You don’t look mad as you silently pack your things, moving like you’re on autopilot. There’s a cold acceptance in your expression, almost like you had seen this coming miles away. That eventually he’d have to choose between you or his career goals.

It would hurt less if you had yelled at him.

But what he can’t tell you is that he’s doing this all for you. He’ll claw his way up to the top and become a hero you’re proud of, a hero respected by all.

A hero you deserve.

And if that means pushing you away to focus on becoming that, he’ll do whatever it takes to deserve you.

Years of missing you later, he’s standing on that stage, surrounded by the most talented pro heroes of his generation. The crowds are cheering and the lights are bright, way too bright, but that doesn’t stop him from scanning the audience for you.

Were you watching him?

After the hero ranking ceremony, he doesn’t bother to stay to mingle with the reporters or other heroes. The day had finally come that he had reached the top ten, so why was he feeling so empty?

“Hey, Ground Zero.”

He stops from where he’s one foot out the arena’s door, readying himself to turn down any requests for a pictures or autographs, because even though he’s been waiting for this day his entire life, all he wants to do right now is go home and be alone.

“Sorry, I-”

It’s you.

You’re just as beautiful as the day you parted ways, but there’s no anger or coldness in the way you smile at him. Despite all he did to you, for you, you still find it in yourself to smile.

He’s lost for words, a strangled sound leaving his throat as he steps back inside the arena. “You came.”

“Of course,” you say with a shrug. “This is the day you’ve been working your whole life for, right? You should be proud.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou says, infuriated with himself at his lack of eloquence. He’d imagined how this day would go in his head every single day you had been absent from his life. He’d explain that he never wanted to push you away, that he had missed you and spent more nights than he’d like to admit longing for your supportive voice and gorgeous smile.

Maybe...he’d tell you once more, that he loves you.

But now that you’re finally in front of him...he doesn’t know what to say. Or how to say it.

“I-” he begins, the three words half-forming in his throat, but he’s interrupted by a voice across the room calling your name. You turn around, tucking an invisible lock of hair behind your ear as an even bigger grin spreads across your face.

Bakugou watches you fling yourself into the arms of a man he vaguely recognizes from the eighth or ninth or tenth hero rank, stiffening at the way you kiss his cheek and hold his hand like you used to do with him.

“You were so good up there,” you’re saying, hugging Not-Bakugou tightly. “Did you get held up by all those reporters?”

The message is crystal clear: you’ve moved on.

He’s gone by the time you turn back around, those three words left unsaid haunting him all the way home.

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

Note

Chromeskull with a singer!reader who he meets at a bar while observing his next victim and her voice enchants him.

Chromeskull x Singer!Reader- Show me how you burlesque

Authors Note: I watched this morning the movie Burlesque 2010 and this idea struck through my head, so why not write it down since I have a request that has this type of plot. For a better vibe listen to the song by Christina Aguilera Show me how you burlesque.

Rating: Just some blackmail and Jesse being an egoistical asshole.

Words: 2.3k

Stalking and observing was probably one of the best things Jesse was good at, especially when it came to hunting piggies and fishies. He never rushed into abducting his next victim for his next game, in time Jesse learned that patience was the key to success and he was feeding on said success, be it of any kind.

The Cromeans manor was empty and silent, save for the shower that turned off, Jesse stepping out after he dried himself, taking a glance into the foggy mirror, observing himself. From the neck down it was the dream of every woman to have in bed, but from the neck up it showed his inner monster, despite the multiple plastic surgeries and face reconstructions, he was never the same and probably never be, but in time he learned to accept it. After all money, a nice car, and an impeccable suit could make any piggy fall to her knees and suck on his cock.

Jesse exited the bathroom and walked to the master bedroom to the walk-in closet, picking out a black suit; black just like death, because he was death. He dressed up, checking himself in the huge mirror, proud of the look.

He walked downstairs, the enormous house so devoid of anyone; it was just him. After losing his wife he accepted the fact that he was going to die alone at some point, just like everyone used to tell him back when he was a shy kid.

The saying was true; Money cannot buy really anything.

Entering the garage he unlocked his Chrysler and got in, exiting his house and driving into town, the more liveable part of Jacksonville where all the night clubs and brothels were. It wasn't random, Chromeskull never did things out of the blue, everything was planned out neatly with precision, like playing chess.

Recently, he stalked a young woman, who spends her time adventuring herself into clubs, looking for some fresh meat or better said a fat wallet to suck on. The typical piggy undercover.

'No! I don't sleep with rich men for their money.'

Jesse snorted at the words; every woman was disposable, he learned that when he was a broke teen and after he lost his face. Spending some genuine time with someone over some drinks and just enjoying each other's company was just an illusion, the world itself was prostitution, in different forms but it was.

You are either a pimp or a whore.

After arriving at the nightclub, he parked his car and got out, walking up the steps to the front entrance, the guys at the front with their lists, checking the people that wanted to enter.

Talk about exclusivity.

Oxford shoes walked up the steps to the entrance, the guys there a little intimidated by Jesse's height, a very big perk when you're 6'7, none dares to mess with you, plus the eyepatch that covered one of his eye was another plus.

"Umm...Name?" a guy asked, clearing his throat, trying to steady his voice and not let fear show, but he failed miserably.

Jesse pulled out his phone, typing in.

'Cromeans.'

The security guy's eyes widened at the name, gulping down and stepping aside to let him enter, not saying anything else.

Jesse smirked, stepping inside, knowing that only his name was a weapon good enough to make these sheep scrambles away to their dens. It was weird to go hunting without his mask, but wearing a chromed skull mask to a public place such as this night club where all the rich and blessed were, gossiping like it was a need to live like breathing.

Brown eye looked around the dim-lit place, looking for his target and his gaze stopped when he found her, sitting down on an old geezers lap, giggling and rubbing his chest. He could be his grandfather for fucks sake.

No surprise from a filthy piggy.

The place was full of people, but he managed to find an empty table, just his presence made the job done, plus the owner of the night club was trying to kiss his ass to get on Jesse's good side. Not that Jesse minded, he loved when people worshipped him like he was God.

He internally chuckled at the comparison....God, more like Devil.

As he sat down at a table in the back, his form enveloped by the darkness, a waitress quickly came to take his order.

'Whiskey. Best Brand. Make it quick.'

The girl gulped down and nodded, quickly walking away to bring Jesse his drink. That's what power feels like, everyone quickly coming to you, to please you in all forms. It wasn't respect. Respect doesn't exist, only fear can make one be what the other wants.

The drink came in less than five minutes, probably just two, but Jesse wasn't counting, taking the glass of liquor and waving the waitress off like she was scum.

Scarred lips pressed against the edge of the crystal glass, taking a sip of the strong alcohol, letting it burn his throat, then he pulled out a silver pack-box that held his Cuban cigars, pulling one out and lightening it, taking in the rich taste of smoke.

His gaze observed the piggy-target, his mind wandering to how he should start when the moment was opportune. Will he take it slow, fooling her into a sense of safety then break her whole world down? Or maybe he just takes it rough, with brute force and knocking some sense into her plastic brain.

Either way, he was going to enjoy it, very much. He could picture her face filled with horror, wet from tears and sweat, mouth full of blood, choking on it as he will take her life away like it was nothing of importance.

Before his fantasy could go into more detail, the music started to play, but it wasn't the usual music, this one was live. The club used to hire singers or bands to play from time to time, so this was a surprise they went to their old ways.

The lights on the stage turned on, the musicians in the background with their instruments playing, then a feminine, but so strong voice started to sing, catching every men's attention, even the old geezer who had the piggy on his lap, long forgotten, because of the beauty on the stage.

The outfit you were wearing could be considered very inappropriate, but that's how you pull the attention of the male audience, the females too, only to burn into envy; the black lace hugging everything just right, the dark make-up around your eyes sparkling and showing how passionate your eyes were as you singed, your red lips moving with every note, your body moving like it was ready to pull the males on a spell.

The tightening in the black slacks was very much getting uncomfortable, the piggy long forgotten and brown eye struck on your form as you moved, the imagination getting the best of Jesse, who only could wonder how your pretty red lips would look wrapped around something else than your mic.

His hand tightened in envy at the men who were too close to the stage, basking in your pretty little self, so confident, the type of confidence that makes you want to drown in it.

These legs, clad in black fishnets, he wondered how they would look wrapped around his hips, your hair into his fist as he takes you from behind. The gruesome scenarios about the piggy vanished only to be replaced with the erotic fantasies with you.

He felt like a kid in a toy store, finding a doll that he really liked and he would get it. Jesse licked his lips, adjusting himself into his seat as you turned around, wiggling your ass, that pretty little ass that he wanted to spank with black nitrile covered hands.

Finally, the show was over, your eyes sparkling with pride, luscious lips pulled into a grin as you waved your audiences, then finally disappearing backstage.

Finishing his drink, Jesse got up, stalking towards the backstage, wanting to take another glimpse of you and he did, only, it wasn't an image he was liking. Actually, if he had his knives with him, he would probably throw them at the guy who was hugging and kissing you.

"You did amazing, baby! You were stunning." the guy said, making you giggle and smile brightly.

"You always know how to pull me up." you said, kissing his cheek.

"That's what a husband should always do to his wife." the guy said, spinning you around.

Alright, the last sentence made Jesse's world crumble down, a bitter feeling setting in his gut, then he quickly walked away, stalking fastly out of the nightclub and into the parking lot of it, taking his phone out, fingers hovering over the digital keyboard, fury evident in his gaze.

He wanted to badly to kill someone, no matter the gender, he wanted to rip flesh and make the blood flow.

'You shouldn't feel jealous. She is not yours.'

The inner voice only spurred his anger more; not jealous, but territorial. If he wanted something he would get it, even if he had to make some unorthodox decisions, not like it would be the first or last time.

'Destroying a happy marriage isn't right. What would your dead wife think?'

Fuck his dead wife! She was no more. Fuck morals! His fingers quickly typed a text then send it to Spann.

'I've got some work for you.'

After 2 months...

It's like the world playing in every favor for Jesse, blackmailing your husband was the easiest job he has ever done and Jesse felt more than prideful when that punk divorced you. Of course, the hard part was seeing you cry and be a confusing mess, but that would go away, eventually.

When he got to the same night club he expected to see you on stage, singing, but it was another girl.

She was definitely doing playback and she wasn't as beautiful as you. His eyes landed on you, sitting down at a table alone, tight red dress hugging your body as you sipped on a glass of scotch, watching the girl, a bored look on your face.The singing ended and everyone went to their own discussion.

Time to step in.

Jesse walked towards you, making you look up with a cute face of puzzlement.

'Seat free?'

Your eyebrows raised up.

"Be my guest." you offered and he took a seat.

'I could only notice that you look a little lonely. Weren't you supposed to sing tonight?' Jesse typed on the electronic reader, making you sigh.

"Yes, but I wasn't feeling up to it. I'm here mostly for my friend. It's her first time." you explained, looking at your drink.

'Am I bothering you?'

"Oh no! It's just....personal problems." you muttered, taking a sip of your drink.

'Talking helps. I don't have anything else to do. I am all ears.'

You gulped down, the alcohol helping you express your problems to this stranger who introduced himself as you did too, getting aquatinted with one another, talking over all kinds of subjects.

Jesse had to admit you were a deep breath of fresh air, opening up so much too him, but he guessed that's what divorce does to a woman. You both talked so much that you didn't realize that people started to go away, one by one leaving the club to do their own business.

"I'm sorry if I burdened you with my problems." you spoke over a deep breath of Malboro smoke, blushing a little, an aspect Jesse was looking forward to doing more to you.

'Not at all. I enjoyed our time together, and let me tell you, if a man doesn't know what a beauty he has before his eyes and doesn't appreciate it, he should just drop dead.'

You laughed at his words, you were glad that after weeks of mourning yourself into blankets and watching drama movies, someone could actually make you laugh and smile.

"Thank you. For your time and everything. I'm sure you could have been doing something better than listening to a little girl's problems." you said, finishing your cigarette and taking a sip of your drink.

Jesse smirked, brown eye sparkling with mischief.

'I doubt it, sweetcheeks.'

You blushed and looked down, the pet name he called you making your stomach do all kinds of twists.

He got up and offered you his hand which you took, walking with him towards the exit. You were the only people left in the club, the owner probably sighing with relief that Cromeans finally left without causing problems.

As you exited through the double doors, you both were met by heavy rain. His car was just a few feet away, but the rain would probably make you both soaked reaching the black luxury vehicle.

Jesse pulled his black dress jacket off and put it around your naked shoulders, the piece of clothing enveloping you in warmness, obviously too big for your so much smaller frame.

"T-Thank you." you said, looking up at Jesse, whose gaze was centered on your lips, looking so inviting and delicious too taste.

He couldn't hold himself anymore, his face moving towards your, his rougher lips pressing against yours, the kiss starting so simple that it turned into a make-out session, tongues running against one another; the taste of alcohol so appetizing and the expensive male cologne he was sporting didn't help you either.

It felt like an eternity, but the kiss finally ended, your eyes looking into the deep pool of brown that promised so many sinful images and it consumed your rational part of your brain.

Fingertips typed on the phone.

'My place?'

"Yeah."

#Chromeskull #Laid to rest #Laid to rest 2009 #Chromeskull: Laid to rest 2 #chromeskull x reader #Jesse Cromeans #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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silverfootstepswrites · 3 years

Text

Eden: BLEACH [2]

ZERO / BLEACH (here) / TWIST / REVERSE / DYE / RED

++++

One lives in the hope of becoming a memory. - Antonio Porchia

++++

There was a knock on the open door. Sakura scowled before she even looked up.

“Go away.”

“You sound more and more like him with every day.”

Sakura finally lifted her head from the ancient manuscript. She lowered her magnifying glass.

“Headmaster,” she greeted Hashirama. The older man, who hadn’t aged a single day since she had first met him, smiled in return. He lingered in the doorway, well aware of the fact that she hadn’t actually invited him inside. She just blinked at him.

Hashirama sighed.

“You’re really just like him. I wanted to let you know that those spell books you requested last month are finally here,” he informed her. And then his eyes drifting to the pile sitting on her desk. “Oh… you already got them?”

Sakura paused. The truth was that she recalled in her long nightmare several days ago that these books would arrive. Just to be sure, she had popped into the library to check. And there they were. Labelled with her name and her department.

It was unsettling- if that was the right word for a situation like this.

Coincidences happened all the time. But was it a coincidence if so many of them piled up at once like this?

“How goes the research?” Hashirama then asked.

In response, Sakura extended her hand. She imagined the molecules in the air gathering into a solid surface. The shield expanded, shoving Hashirama all the way out the door. Hashirama examined the shimmering surface of the shield. When he poked it, static electricity crackled off the outside. He jerked his hand back.

“That’s a nice touch,” he commended. And then he waved his hand. “Alright. I get the hint. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Thank you,” Sakura replied, already turning back to her reading.

Madara cackled when Sakura recounted the encounter to him that night.

“Good. Keep that geezer far away from you,” Madara agreed, crunching a pistachio between his back molars.

Sakura thought for a moment. She turned away from the stove for a moment. It was her turn to cook dinner. “You’re no spring chicken yourself, Papa,” she reminded him. Madara frowned at her.

Sakura paused. She lowered her spatula.

“Sorry, was that too much?” she asked.

But Madara only smirked, leaning against the counter. He ruffled her hair.

“Don’t worry about that kind of crap, kid. We’re always fine,” he assured her. And then he pointed at the pan. Sakura went back to stirring the garlic before it could burn.

“Quit snacking on those. You’ll ruin your appetite,” Sakura told him. She heard him chuckle.

“Are you my grandmother? Quit nagging.” And then he crunched through another pistachio, grinding it to pieces between his teeth.

Later that night, Sakura laid on her bed, phone pressed to her ear.

“Are you sure you won’t come? The guys are cute. I promise,” Ino pleaded one last time. And then she added: “Sorry. It’s just… I haven’t seen you in forever. I miss you.”

And Sakura smiled at the ceiling.

“Yeah. I’ll sit this one out, Ino. I’m not feeling it,” Sakura answered. She heard Ino sigh.

Before Ino could worry too much, Sakura then said: “I do appreciate the invites, Ino. I know you’re just thinking about me. I’ll be at the next one.”

Ino’s tone brightened. “Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

“Take pictures so I can see them later.”

“Yeah yeah. I’ll drop by the shop?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Letting out a sigh, Sakura dropped the phone and rolled onto her side. She stretched her arms over her head. As she lay there, she could hear footsteps downstairs. She thought for a moment. And then her mouth opened.

“Papa,” she called.

No response.

She considered getting up, and then she extended her left arm. Pointing, she flicked her wrist as she called him again.

This time, the “Papa” traveled down the stairs, spreading through the third floor like mist. She could feel the way the word surged ahead, knocking walls and doors, spreading until she was sure that it could be heard everywhere.

There was a pause. And then she felt Madara’s magic wash over her in a wave. Soft. Just a little warm- as were the spells of most fire affinity casters.

What.

I’m bored.

There was a drawn-out exhale. Madara trudged up the stairs, his glasses dangling from the chain around his neck. He stood in the doorway, hand on his hip.

“What do you want me to do about that?” he demanded.

Sakura tilted her head to look at him.

“Dunno. I wanna eat something.”

Madara squinted at her. “We had dinner.”

Sakura stared right back at him.

He pushed off the doorway, already walking out of the room.

“You want toast?”

“With butter and jam,” she called after him. Hugging a pillow to her chest, she fell back on the bed again.

“Brat,” he grumbled, stomping down the stairs.

Sakura laughed.

They stood at the counter eating together, barefoot, scolding each other for getting crumbs everywhere.

Sakura loved the way the butter melted in her mouth, mixing with the sweet taste of strawberries. Madara even cut the toast into triangles, just the way she liked, even though she had never once asked him to.

It struck her, staring out the kitchen window, how fortunate she was. The people who had abandoned her had never written or called. She was sure that the Senju Institute and Madara knew of some way to get in touch with them. But she didn’t want to know.

Madara had taught her when everyone else said there was something defective about her. He had given her a place to belong. And as all these thoughts swam around in her head, Sakura let her head fall against Madara’s arm.

“You know…”

Madara looked at her as he took a bite of his toast.

“I really like being here with you, Papa. I feel happy here,” she told him.

Madara stopped chewing. He looked away.

“Then stick around, kid. It’s not bad having you around too,” Madara replied, not meeting her eyes.

Sakura beamed. She didn’t have to say anything else. They finished eating their late-night snack together. Brushing crumbs off their face and licking jam from their fingers once they were done.

++++

On the days that she wasn’t working at the dream shop, Sakura was working on her own research. Her thesis was exploring how magical barriers and fields interact with dreams. If shields and charms were cast in the real world, would those protections extend to dreams? (No.) Could they be manipulated to work in dreams? (Maybe- she wasn’t sure yet.)

Her undergraduate studies in abjuration focused mostly on shields and banishment. Shisui had laughed when she announced her major to them one morning at the shop. As Itachi and Sasuke both punched his arms, he tried to explain that it was a good thing.

Of course you would want to protect people. That’s just like you.

Everyone in the Uchiha family agreed that Sakura’s shields had a kick to them. They didn’t just block. They fought back when attacked. One of her favorite shields was one that she liked to call The Urchin. It looked like any other shield- clear but shimmering faintly under the right light. If touched gently, it had no reaction. But if struck with force, thousands of spikes rose out of the surface to stab the threat.

For Sasuke, who favored evocation magic, Sakura’s shields were a great source of amusement as he tried to find ways to break them down with fireballs and bolts of lightning. And Sakura in turn would then work to fix those weaknesses to render his attacks harmless. Neither of them ever admitted it out loud, but their playful competition was what had probably driven both of them to excel in their studies during their undergrad years.

Itachi worked almost exclusively with illusions. His ability to blur illusions with reality made him a fearsome sparring partner. It was no surprise that he had graduated at the top of his class in record time. Even now, his old professors joked that Itachi had walked into the school and then walked out with his diplomas.

Shisui was the only one among them that hadn’t gone on to college. But that didn’t seem to bother anyone- especially not his parents. Because as soon as it was legal, Shisui was scouted to work with the city’s observatory to test how celestial bodies and their positions influenced casting. It was a new field that not many people were familiar with. Shisui had a tendency to pack his car with his telescope and spectrometer and drive off into the mountains whenever the skies were clear. If his frequent absences irritated Madara, he didn’t say anything.

With so many people around her who excelled at magic, it wasn’t hard to find someone to assist her with research on most days. Even her friends from school, Ino and Naruto, were usually around to lend a helping hand.

But Sakura liked it best when Madara was the one to help her with her experiments.

“Because I ask the least amount of stupid questions,” he guessed when she told him so.

They sat cross-legged in Sakura’s room in the dream world. Madara looked around at all the crystals that filled the tall shelves. She had recently extended the height of her room just to accommodate them all.

“No. You just… you’re good at knowing how to help. You’re kind of a natural, Papa,” Sakura replied.

Before Madara could touch any of the dreams, Sakura made a sweeping gesture with both her hands. The room around them dissolved into a gentle blue mist. And when it reformed, they were standing in what looked like the city park. There was even a swing creaking gently in the breeze nearby.

Madara was sitting on a boulder now. He patted the surface a few times, nodding approvingly.

“The texture’s pretty realistic. You’ve got a good eye for detail,” he commented.

Sakura took a moment to smile before she closed her eyes and gathered energy into her palms again. This time, when she swept her arms, the particles in the air began to vibrate, knitting together. Closer and closer, closing the gaps until they formed a standard shield.

Madara picked up a small stone and tossed it at the shield. It bounced off.

“Well. Looks like it’s holding this time around.”

As he spoke, the smooth surface of the shield began to ripple. Like a soap bubble, it popped. Sakura’s arms fell to her sides. Her lips jutted out.

“Oh man, I thought I really had it this time,” she lamented.

But Madara just patted the empty spot beside him. Sakura made her way over. She climbed up on the boulder and plopped down beside him.

“I wonder why shields don’t work in dreams. It would be helpful for lots of people,” she grumbled. She pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Why’d you choose something so hard? No one’s ever managed to make abjuration magic last here. The dream world doesn’t follow the regular laws of nature,” Madara pointed out. And as if to drive the point home, he held up his pointer finger. A flame appeared at the tip. Only it was burning upside down.

Sakura copied him. She lowered the temperature of the magic until it turned a dull, almost brownish color. When she lowered her hand, the flame dissipated completely.

“There’s lots of people. Kids especially. Who feel scared. And maybe they didn’t have some weird artificer popping into their heads every night to make the nightmares go away,” she explained. When she met Madara’s eyes, he was smiling again. Sighing, he patted her head a couple times.

“You got a real heart of gold. You know that, right?” he commended. But the praise almost sounded a little sad.

Madara’s hand fell away.

“By the way, I wanted to ask.”

“Yeah, Papa?”

“You’ve been at home a lot lately. Something happen with your friends?”

It wasn’t like Madara to pry into her private matters. He hadn’t asked why she had started casting a barrier over their home every night before they went to bed. And he didn’t ask why she had suddenly started texting him every day while she was at work.

It was just a nightmare. One of countless ones she had dreamt over all these years. It still made her feel sick to remember the scene. So much blood.

She did feel guilty for not speaking to Gaara again. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But the image of him laying dead there next to Madara had felt too strange. Part of the reason she had chosen to minor in divination was because dreams and divination were often linked together. Dreams could be a warning of some events to come. And if Gaara was part of that ominous message, she didn’t want to involve herself with him in any way.

“Just been busy. Too tired to go out, mostly. Everything’s fine with my friends. Ino’s gonna drop by the shop tomorrow. I might get lunch with her,” Sakura replied, looking down at her hands.

They both looked up as they heard distant beeping.

“That’s your alarm,” Sakura told him, turning to Madara again.

He hadn’t aged a day since he had picked her up from the Senju Academy all those years ago. She knew that really talented casters who were constantly working with magic often lived much longer. Bathing in all that energy had a rejuvenating effect. She suspected that her aging would begin to slow soon too. It was rumored that Professor Tobirama and Professor Hashirama were centuries old- although no one would know from looking at their faces.

Madara nodded.

“See you soon, kid.”

He tapped her shoulder once before he dissolved into black mist.

When Sakura opened her eyes, she could hear the faucet running in the bathroom. Her phone was buzzing on her nightstand. She reached over to hit the snooze button. The faucet shut off.

“Papa,” she croaked half into her pillow.

There was a pause. When she pried one eye open, Madara was opening her bedroom door. There was a towel around his neck.

“Pancakes,” was all she mumbled.

Madara rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, Your Highness,” he complained, closing the door again.

++++

The peaceful days continued even as the weather grew cold. Snow fell on the city, but the inside of the dream shop stayed cozy thanks to an enchantment cast by Madara at the beginning of every winter.

Sakura didn’t really have to duck her head when she entered the store. But her cousins did. It was one of the few times when she was glad to be so much shorter.

She unwrapped her scarf and tossed it into the air. It hovered there. Waiting until she unzipped her coat and threw it too. Only then did the magic whisk them both away to hang on the coat rack.

“Morning,” Sasuke said from behind the counter.

“Hi. I’m freezing,” she replied. Nose red from the cold, Sakura rubbed her hands together.

“There’s still some coffee in the break room. Help yourself,” Sasuke told her. And when he began taking off his hoodie for her, Sakura waved his offer away.

When she approached, Sasuke turned the appointment book around so she could see the day’s schedule. Itachi was upstairs dealing with a client already. She didn’t have anything booked until after lunch today.

“Shisui?” she called.

“In storage,” came a muffled reply.

She found him digging through one of the shelves. To the side were rolled pieces of paper. She picked one up and opened it to find a star map.

“What’s this?”

Shisui’s head popped up.

“Ah. Weather looks real clear tomorrow. I’m gonna head out and get some readings.”

Sakura felt her knees buckle. She gripped the edge of the shelf as she remembered something else from that nightmare that had never faded from her mind.

“Shi.”

“Yeah?”

When she didn’t speak, Shisui straightened. Dusting off his shirt, he stepped toward her. When he saw the look on her face, he rushed the last few steps. He grasped her shoulders.

“Hey hey hey. What’s wrong?”

Sakura grabbed his forearms.

“Do you have to go?”

“What?”

“On your trip. Do you have to go?”

“Yeah, kid. Been planning this for a while. What’s wrong?” he said, slowly. He searched her face as he spoke. She hated the way his forehead wrinkled with concern. Hated even more the way Sasuke opened the door. Standing there with his fists held in front of him, as if getting ready to punch whatever had upset her.

“What’d you say, you turd?” Sasuke snapped. He shoved Shisui aside. He ducked to get a better look at Sakura’s expression.

“You don’t look so good. Let’s go sit down,” Sasuke suggested. He took her hand. Waited for her to slowly curl her fingers around his. As he guided her to the door, Itachi appeared. His face brightened as he spotted her.

“Hey. When’d you get here?” he greeted her.

The warmth in his voice made her burst into tears.

“What’d you two say to her?” Itachi immediately accused. He crossed the threshold to wrap his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. He patted her back as he went on with his scolding the others. “She’s tired enough as is without you two saying something stupid to her.”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

“I just said I was going on a trip.”

Sakura bawled into Itachi’s shirt. She didn’t have the energy to care how stupid she must look. She needed to tell Shisui not to go. Not go away. Because what if that awful dream came true and he disappeared forever again? And then Itachi would go too. And to imagine the sorrow in Sasuke’s face hurt more than all those other things put together.

“Sasuke, go get her something to drink. Shisui, go get a blanket out of the back,” Itachi was ordering now. And then he lowered his voice.

“There there. Cry it out. You’ll feel better once you do,” Itachi murmured, patting her back again.

#eden #fanfiction #writing #uchisaku #haruno sakura

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