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aoida-blue · 7 years

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Death Debts (Jaydick) Part 1/2

For Jaydick week: day 7 Talons/Court of the Owls. Part 1/2.

A/N: Think of this as a rougher first version, there are still some revisions to come before it gets posted to AO3 (so feel free to hang on till then) but this is me, diving in to hit jaydick week. This part is 15k. Theres is possibly another 5/6k more in the last part. Bloody hell this was supposed to be a oneshot.

Having his own prisoner was never in Jason’s plan to get the hell back to his own universe. Having that personal prisoner be a Dick Grayson, a screwed up Talon obsessed with his (un)death?

Oh yeah, Jason was having so much fun.

Helmet torn off, Jason scrubbed at his face, peering at the screen in front of him. No amount of blinking could ease the white screen light that burnt against his eyes. No amount of blinking could change the results on the stolen laptop screen either.

The data didn’t lie. Meteorology activity in the place Jason had woken up, electrical disturbances, blackouts… the whole package. And damn it all if Jason wasn't too familiar with what that meant.

He’d universe hopped again.

Jason shifted in his chair.

Fucking metas. Sure, for a couple of vain moments after the blast of green light, Jason had thought he’d just been knocked out. A hope that gutted out when Jason’s nearby safe house was occupied by a young family, then his second safe house was home to five cats and an old man. The final straw had been the disappearance of all his emergency stashes around town.

It was blind luck he'd found this apartment, an empty penthouse apartment, dust collecting on every surface, but a macbook hidden under the bed.

There were only two outcomes that could get him home. One, that the Batman here was just as crazy prepared as his and had worked with Zantana on the Bat Universe-Corrector (god damn Bruce and his naming abilities). or that two, someone from his universe noticed he was gone, linked it to the meta and then… somehow found their way to him.

Shit and fuck.

“Who are you?”

Jason jerked, falling off the chair and into an easy crouch, hands snapping up his guns by his sides and aiming them straight at the voice.

But only one person stood there and Jason breathed out a giddy laugh, relief knocking through him. For a second he thought it was the meta.

“Thank fuck its only you.” Jason said easily, eying his visitor up on reflex, “Nice getup.”

And it was.

Armour platted, ribbed in gold feather like patterns, high collar and weapons accessible from any angle he wanted to grab them. It wasn’t really what Jason had pegged as Dick’s style, way too cool for him and too many weapons, but hey, different universes, different Dicks. Jason might even like this one better.

But there was something about the armour…

“A bit too much like the Talons don’t you think Dickie?” Jason asked with a notched brow.

Dick stood there, half-wreathed in shadows, face pale and warping down in a frown. He paused, statue still, and Jason felt a prick of unease at the back of his neck, his warning signs kicking off as the blank staring continued.

“What, you don’t recognise me?” Jason tried with a grimace, great maybe in this universe Bruce had left him in the gutter-

Dick moved.

He whirled, spinning, a whistling metallic song as blades materialised in Dick’s grasp. Their sharpened points flashing straight at Jason’s jugular.

It was only instinct, moves drilled in Jason’s DNA, that saved him. Jason lunged backwards, feeling the brush of wind as a blade skimmed past, then grabbed forward as soon as he was able, seizing the armed hand. But Dick was fast, and already another knife from his other hand was slicing up and Jason had to release him to knock it off course. There a microscopic hole in Dick's attack and Jason used it, barreling forward and taking Dick to the ground.

Shit. Dick didn’t just look like a Talon.

Dick hit the ground hard, armour creaking as he didn’t stay down, twisting as if to push himself upright again. Jason didn’t let him, pressing his weight fully Dick, struggling to keep Dick’s rotating wrists from snapping free from his hands.

“Look I don’t want to fight you.” Jason spoke quickly because heck, maybe he was still Dick under that Talon garb, maybe he just needed proof, “Your name is Dick Grayson, you come from the Flying Graysons and-“

An inhuman screech tore its way out of Dick’s lungs, and Jason was bucked off, pushed to the side and Dick rolled on top of him, blades raised high. Death reflected in everyone of those glittering daggers, and Jason moved quickly, he jabbed forward, heel of the palm straight into Dick’s exposed stomach, and when Dick dived down with the blades he was off balanced. Off balanced enough, Jason could force his arms wide as they came hurtling down.

One blade imbedded into the floor beside Jason's ear, reverberating hard. The other almost caught his shoulder, and Jason could feel it pressing against his jacket. And fuck it all, if this continued, Jason was going to die again. He wasn’t a match for this Dick, and Jason knew it instantly. He needed Dick distracted. Luckily-

“When you were very young your parents died in an accident-“ Jason spoke light and fast, desperate to find the word that could be his opening.

There had to be some weakness, some similarity in Dick between Jason's universe and this one.

Dick’s face twisted like there wasn't, like nothing Jason could say would break him. In fact, they made him look more murderous.

“You’re dead.” Dick spat, back arching high like a hissing cat, hands still locked on the dagger handles either side of Jason’s head, “You’re dead-“

Arguably true, at least in the past tense.

But Jason didn’t really want to debate semantics when Dick was distracted.

Instead Jason took his distraction, cuffed Dick under the chin - it wasn’t a good move, Jason didn’t have any power from that angle- but it disorientated Dick enough, Jason could launch up, toppling Dick to the side. Jason went with him as Dick hit the ground, rolling so his legs locked against Dick’s and pressed an elbow tight down his windpipe.

Dick lashed out, jolting and jerking against the hold, but he was unsettled, unbalanced and quickly loosing air.

Jason clung on, ignoring the pain from Dick’s nails as he sunk them deep into Jason’s arm, but finally, finally, Dick went loose. His eyes rolled back in his skull as he passed out.

He held for a long breath, then Jason pulled back quickly, pressing two fingers to Dick’s pulse to check he was just out and not dead. Cause yeah, Jason didn’t want that on his conscience. Even if it wasn’t the Dick he knew. Even if this Dick was totally and utterly a Talon.

Who had certainly killed some one before if that attack was anything to go by.

A strong pulse beat under his fingers and Jason released a fearful breath. Then, aching all over Jason collapsed to the side, huffing out at the ceiling.

“I already hate this world.” Jason muttered to the ceiling.

-=-

Jason was nursing an icepack to his head, a bandaged arm and a hell of a grudge when Dick finally roused again. And when he woke up, it was freaky.

One moment Dick was shifting against the rope, small unconscious twitches, just enough noise Jason had time to look up when Dick’s eyes sprung open and his entire body tensed. It was as if some sort of live wire ran under his skin and it had just been flicked on.

Dick’s eyes snapped to him. Nothing in his gaze but wild instinct.

Jason glared at him, icepack pressed firmly to his head.

Dick’s eyes shot around the rest of the room, then his eyes slipped a bit, relaxed a bit, and Jason was met with the cool disinterested gaze that was so… talon like it made Jason flinch. It looked so out of place on Dick.

How he had ever thought this was His Dick.

And wow that sentence never sounded right.

“That was clever of you.” Dick spoke finally, words a manufactured drawl.

It was a spoken like a threat.Which was clever of him because yeah, Jason had ropes and chains and handcuffs on Dick so managing to sound threatening while bound like roasting hog? Impressive.

Not that Jason would give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Dick flexed lightly, visibly testing the bonds, and tilted his head. Jason was dead confident in his tying skills, but seeing that movement didn’t stop a small fission of alarm to go chasing down his spine.

“Cloning or advanced mask…” Dick rolled the words in his mouth, “Doesn’t matter. Jason Todd were sentenced by the court. You will die.”

That was a good little information nugget. Jason in this reality had been sentenced by the court. Go this universe’s him. Jason hadn’t accomplished that back home, maybe he would have if the Joker hadn’t gotten to him. Also sounded like this universe’s Jason definitely did die with that death sentence. Which. Least the universes were consistent.

Fuck the universes.

“That’s nice.” Jason said, insincere as he could manage, “Charming really Dickie. Don’t really care.”

Dick twitched a bit in the ropes and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

“You have been sentenced to die by the Court.” Dick said again, like a terse reminder.

“But Mr Bird Fetish,” Jason rest his head in his hand, let his words drag like an unimpressed school kid, “I actually don’t give a fuck about your court right now? Like honest to god that is the last thing I care about at this moment.”

Seriously Jason had a list of Things He Cared About. Right now, Evil Talons Brainwashing Dickie was not even on the list. As far as Jason was concerned that was someone else’s problem. More important on the list were matters like, well, you know, getting back to his own freaking universe. Finding Batman before any other former family members wanted to reveal their own tragic universe counterparts.

Jason had to just remind himself: this wasn’t his shit.

Talon Dick just stared at him, narrowed eyes and creepy as all hell, “You were sentenced by the court. You will die.”

Jason sighed. Yup so not going down that route but-

“I thought I was already dead.” Jason reminded Dick.

Dick’s shoulders jerked, like a whipcord of tension had snapped across them, and then Dick’s head tilted and his eyes widened.

“You were.” Dick spoke clear and even, factual, “But the sentence still stands.”

Jason took a moment to process that. Definitely fuck the universes. Then he stood, dusting off his pants, and drawing the ice off his head with a wince.

“So I have to die twice. Wow that sucks. What did I do to piss you off?” He shrugged, brushing off the thought, he was not going to get bogged down, he wasn’t, “But don’t care, doesn’t matter, more important stuff to do.”

All true. Jason had a fact finding mission to run. He needed a Batman, a Bat Universe Corrector. So Bruce Wayne was going to be his port of call and Jason didn’t need a fancy bat cave computer to find out details about Bruce Wayme. Jason dismissed Dick with a wave, grabbing his stolen laptop and setting up camp on the couch, legs chucked up on the table.

So if Jason Todd had died, and Dick Grayson was a Talon, it really made Jason curious to see what the hell had happened with Bruce. Probably more of a nutcase. Likely more of a nutcase.

Jason opened Google, but like a niggling fly, buzzing around his head, he could feel Dick’s stare drilling into the side of his head.

“What? I’m sure as hell not letting you go so you can grab some buddies and come back – also Dick, your buddies used to be Tim, Damian and Babs not Talons.” Jason played it light and glib, ignored the tiny pit of dread that had opened up his gut about what the heck had happened to them here if Jason and Dick…, “your standards have gone.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dick said, “They will still find you and-“

“Kill me, wow you don’t say.”

Bruce Wayne. Plugged into Google. Enter and Jason was blinked at the billions of results that filled the screen, flicked over to News and-

Now, this universe was officially the worst.

Bruce Wayne had been missing for ten years since the Wayne Manor Fire. A fire that had started under ‘mysterious circumstances’. No body had been found.

Another quick search and. The Batman sightings were either very old or very odd. Given the existence of Talons… it wasn’t hard to work out what had probably happened.

Jason clenched his fists.

No. This wasn’t his universe. That wasn’t Bruce. Just like that wasn’t Dick tied up across the room. Just like he was still alive and not killed by the Court. Okay. He released his fists, found the cold rationality in him.

The Batcave had been fire proof. And Bruce’s equipment wouldn’t have just vanished with the old man’s death. Alfred was still listed in a sentence as still alive so he’d have them, and Jason would bet anything he’d have gone to the nearest ‘family’ member. So Jason just had to find out where who that was, if there was anyone, and if not, just had a track a unremarkable old man in Gotham’s swarming population.

So yes, maybe this bit would have been easier on a Bat computer. Damn it all.

-=-

Jason had a lead and a 3 am start didn’t seem so bad when he was getting out of apartment had thus far only had disappointments, computer work and near murder for him. He shut the computer with some vigour and turned his gaze on Dick.

“Stay.” Jason told him, setting his hood back over his head, and managed an extra dose of patronisation, “Good Talon.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, “You have been sentenc-“

Jason closed the door quickly, cutting out the inevitable and rolled his eyes. Imaginative this new Dick was not. But then no one had ever accused Court Brainwashing of being the secret to creativity.

Actually Jason didn’t know anyone who’d come back from brainwashing. The thought made Jason hesitate for a moment, pushed up on to the rail, grapple out.

No, Jason reminded himself harshly, this wasn’t his world.

Jason threw himself into the air, grabbing on to the next roof top and hauling himself up and started running again, jumping and leaping over the next roof.

He kept an eye on the streets below, in case different reality meant different street names. But fourth connected to Fifth connected to Old Donell’s to Grey’s, and it was all so familiar. Too Familiar, Jason faltered briefly when it came to make the turn, his feet urging him up toward Ghost’s Corner, near where his old old safe house was, but Jason hadn’t come for that, and his safe house wasn’t in this universe. Instead, Jason made the sharp turn.

Gradually the buildings started to grow higher. Sleeker looking structures took place from crumbling brownstones, and drunk stragglers thinned on the streets below.

It had taken thirty minutes on the sky high route Jason had taken, slower than the cars below, but it gave Jason a good lay of the land around one of the city’s tallest skyscrapers and his target.

Jason crouched a block from it, the tall financial building he was on required some scaling and it wasn’t even two thirds the height of the apartment block next to it. If he wanted to get up to the penthouse of that place Jason was going to have grapple that high balcony and even that was beyond risky. Through his magnifying lenses he could see that fine red line sensor barely noticeably under the edge of the windows and the railing.

Someone that paranoid in a penthouse would probably have pressure sensors.

Add to that, if this was the home of who Jason thought it was? There was bound to be fifty more terrifying surprises.

Jason swallowed.

He was going to have to do it anyway. Set off the sensors, try not killed and then bargain for the piece of equipment he needed. Hopefully, he had it. He was the most likely of everyone in this wretched universe.

Fucking screwed up timeline.

Jason readied himself, reposition himself to a proper crouch and getting ready to leap over the gap when something sharp and cold touched against his neck, finding the very bare crease between hood and neck armour.

Knife or sword, it hissed as it rubbed under the hood.

“Explain your presence.” A voice demanded, sharp and sudden.

Didn’t even need to jump, his meeting had come to him. Jason almost laughed, then quickly decided against as he felt the sword still. Placating, Jason raised his hands, and turned his head slightly, just so he could catch a glimpse of this universe’s Damian Wayne.

Something akin to revulsion and regret twisted in Jason’s stomach at the sight of him. Damian was wearing dark armour, complete with mask, that looked near identical to what Batman wore, but tailored so carefully, and so disturbingly to his small frame. It just made what Jason knew about this Damian feel all the more terrible.

“Speak or I’ll take your head.” Damian’s words were no mere threat.

This was an Assassin and Jason had to treat him as such if he wanted to survive.

“Not here to fight.” Jason said keeping his words light and damn him, quick, “Just to propose a trade.”

Because if he was right, then this world’s Damian had never known Jason before he was killed off - and even if he recognised Jason it wouldn’t be a great trust boost since Jason should have been dead. But, if Jason could get him to agree with a trade… Jason could get the device he needed, and he could trade on the information that was more common knowledge in his world than was here. Like, for instance, the Court of Owls.

Damian could be very business minded and Jason had placed his bets on that.

“A trade?” Damian asked, a touch of archness melded with the cold in his voice, and the sword wasn’t moving, “You were going to break into my home were you not?”

“Look…” Jason trailed off suddenly unsure, he didn’t know if Damian went as Batman or not, and if he used Damian… but surely he’d know that Jason would know his name considering the location… ugh, it was too much so Jason avoided the nouns all together, “I have information on the Court of Owls. Put up as many defences as you like, but you’d like to know what I’m going to say.”

There was a tiny breath from behind him and Jason knew that his hunch was right. He had him.

“And what did you want in return?” Damian’s voice did not give away anything.

Ah the tricky bit.

“To borrow some of your equipment.”

“Which equipment, and how do you know I have it?” Harder, more suspicious.

For all Damian knew, Jason sounded like he was probably looking to make a nuclear bomb.

Jason smiled tightly under his hood, well, the nuclear bomb would be easier than trying to dimension hop.

“You are wearing his old armour -almost,” Which was better than saying you probably inherited it from your dead father, “and I’m not looking for anything weaponizable. More. Scientific.”

“Odd request.” Damian said finally.

Right then Jason’s knees were really started to hurt from the constant crouch.

“You would not even believe my story.” Jason joked lowly, “But the info will be worth it and you can supervise me every step of the way with the device.”

“Assuming I have it.” Damian offered lightly.

This time Jason did move, twisting so he could face that creepy bat-like mask and stare up at him.

“Well.” Jason said dryly, “I’m gonna need to check that you do have what I’m looking for before I tell you anything.”

Damian hummed, a low mocking note.

“Tell me exactly what it is, and I will tell you if I have it then.”

Would Damian help a dimension stuck stranger or just his universe’s stranger? Would he even believe Jason if he’d never gotten to the wacky space-magic part of the Robin internship? What if Bruce didn’t even have it in this universe? Too risky.

“Not that I don’t trust you.” Jason couldn’t help but say, sarcasm dripping from each note, “But I’ll need to see it with my own eyes.”

“What?” Damian asked archly, “Let you wander through all my belongings? That’s not particularly tempting.”

“Yet… if you want the information.” Jason dangled.

Damian laughed, mirthlessly.

“You are in no position to bargain. I have what you want and you have, I’m assuming, no other way of getting it. You will tell me the info, and then and only then will I get you the item you are after and only if I approve of you having it.”

That succinctly put Jason well and truly in a bind. Fuck.

“That involves a lot of faith from my part.” Jason sniped.

Damian smiled, thin-lipped, “You’ll have to trust me won’t you?”

Son of a-

“I think not.” Jason returned dryly.

Damian shrugged.

“Come back at 8pm, and we’ll do this in more comfort in the apartment.” Damian looked at him with something disturbingly predatorily for someone who was half of Jason’s height, “I need to set up my defences.”

Why did it suddenly felt like Damian was going to kill him tomorrow?

Well, this Damian hadn’t had Dick’s or Bruce’s no-killing regime but according to Jason’s research he still had Alfred.

Military trained Alfred.

“Sure, sounds peachy.” Jason agreed, thinly, because there was no choice.

He was going to wear so much extra armour tomorrow. Which fuck- he didn’t actually have because it was all back in the wrong universe.

“Good.” Damian pulled his sword back with a flourish, “Now you were leaving.”

Damian jerked his head at the side, at the hundred foot drop and the closest grappling building out of range. Jason lips pursed, cause, yeah, Damian was so fucking funny.

“Yeah, I was.” Jason sneered, stretching upright, and god, he swore his knees creaked up on the way.

He wasn’t that old, but jeeze, did it feel it then.

Damian was smiling that awful half-smile like he knew how uncomfortable that had been and Jason really wanted to wipe that expression off his face.

Because Jason was a truly an amazing human being, he didn’t. Instead, Jason pulled himself up to his full height and felt some sort of valediction in the fact that yeah, he was still taller than the brat. Damian’s smile dampened a bit like he noticed this too, and that right there, was a perfect farewell.

Jason gave him a jaunty salute, “See you tomorrow Mini Dark and Brooding.”

Damian frowned but Jason took a leap off the roof before he could respond.

He flew through the air, actually making use of his grapples of the way back, looping a long winding track around fourth and fifth until he was sure his black shadow was left behind before he dropped down onto an alley and waited a little more.

All clear and Jason finished his way back to his… stolen apartment. Or something. Whatever the owners hadn’t come home so either it was someone Dick had killed and… done something with the bodies, or they were on holidays. Either way the bills were overdue and everything in the fridges and cupboards was off. So until otherwise, home was were you left your bound Talon prisoners.

Jason cracked the door open, stifling a yawn beneath his fist and kicked it close behind him.

“You miss me Dickie?” Jason called through the apartment, “You’re probably hungry so I should bag a couple of mice for you and a hunk of piz-“

There was a creak and then something whistled through the air and Jason jerked to the ground, narrowly missing a kitchen knife. A kitchen knife currently imbedded dead into the door behind him.

Oh. Fucking-

Jason looked up and saw Dick come charging at him, hands still bound but another kitchen knife in his grip. How the heck-

Jason rolled onto his feet and and jumped back at the slash, then stepped quickly to the side at a stab, and grabbed the handle of the knife when Dick went to swing it a him again.

“You have been sentenced.” Dick gritted out, “And you will-.”

“How did you even get out??” Jason hissed between his teeth as he tried to overpower Dick for the knife.

Dick was strong though, too strong and that was leading nowhere, then Dick’s eyes flashed and there was a leg around Jason’s middle and he hit the ground hard with Dick right on top of him.

As if he was mocking Jason’s earlier take down of him. Fuck there was Dick’s warped sense of humour still in there.

The jerk had loosened Jason’s grip on the knife, and Dick yanked it totally out of his grasp, slashing the inside of Jason’s hand in the process and fuck that hurt- but Jason didn’t have the time to think because Dick had the knife raised in the air pointed right at Jason’s jugular.

“Die.” Dick whispered.

Dick started to bring the knife down and Jason’s eyes jerked wide and he reacted, whipping his forearm up to hit Dick’s chest and rolling them with a jerk of his hips.

“No thanks.” Jason bit out, insincere as he could.

Dick hissed, inhuman and terrifying as they rolled, the knife clattering out of his hands and rolling across the floor. Jason quickly gripped the handcuffs still locking Dick’s wrists together and held them pinned on the ground but Talon Dick played dirty and threw up a knee to hit right between Jason’s legs.

Jason bit hard down his lip and thanked god he had been wearing a cup that day. Still he’d been expecting a Damian sized hit, not a Dick sized one.

Before Dick could try that trick again, Jason knocked an elbow against Dick’s middle, winding him, and rolled them again so he could get a decent leg lock on him.

Dick thrashed against his hold but it was too tight, too strong for him to do anything but wiggle.

“You’re trapped-“ Jason started, going for the old logic route.

Dick cut that idea pretty fast.

“And you’re dead. You are dead.” Dick cursed, seeming more human than he had the entire time.

He was really hung on the idea.

“Yeah well, the court may have killed-“

“I killed you.” Dick spat out and all of Jason’s organs shrivelled up in his body, “I held your teenage body down as it stopped struggling in your pool of blood and they didn’t let me forget it. They made me kill you and they let me keep that memory so you are dead.”

Dick had-

In this universe Dick had killed him.

“People don’t always stay dead.” Jason said, but it was numb, a reflexive retort Jason had used in so many situations.

It felt numb. Jason felt numb. Trying to imagine the bundle of cheer and brooding Jason had known as the young Dick, the sweet Dick Grayson, killing him when Jason had still been a ungainly kid-

It was like a switch had been pulled somewhere in Dick’s head. The Talon froze, body stilling against Jason’s grip. Which was just as well because Jason couldn't feel his own hands too well at that moment.

“They do.” He breathed, and Jason had basically released his hold on Dick but Dick wasn’t moving, hadn’t used the extra space, “They do unless-”

Then Dick just went dead in his arms. Muscles loosing all their tension and relaxing sudden and hard, his head lolling back. Like he’d been switched off.

Jason reflexively checked his pulse, feeling it under his hand. It was like Dick had fainted but his eyes were wide open, still blinking slowly, and his chest was still moving.

Slowly Jason released him.

Dick stayed down.

“Are you…” Jason started.

Dick didn’t move.

This was his chance, the pragmatic side of Jason insisted and he moved.

Jason quickly got up, dragging him back over and tying him to the chair again, doubling the rope, tightening the handcuffs.

Dick just stared into space.

Jason sat back for a moment, staring at him. It was as if he had fallen into some sort of trance.

He had killed Jason. In this reality Dick had killed Jason.

Jason’s stomach flipped strangely and he felt cold and hot all at once, skin prickling.

-=-

Jason couldn’t sleep.

He sat staring wide awake, staring at ceiling, thinking of the boy that would probably try and kill him that night. About the the man across the room who apparently already had. Really made Jason wonder about what Tim, Steph and Cass had gotten up to. If they had plans to kill him too.

At the moment that wouldn’t surprise him.

Still it wasn’t him that Dick had killed, and he wasn’t the Dick that Jason knew.

Jason rolled over to his side , grabbing the pillow and clenching his fingers in to it.

It all wasn’t his problem, none of this was. It didn’t matter how much shit this universe had gotten into because it wasn’t Jason’s responsibility.

But-

But.

The wood floor creaked under Jason’s steps, echoing and making his presence known to about everyone in the apartment block as he made his way across the room.

Jason didn’t know what drew him there, didn’t really think too much about it, but Dick was still bound, bells added on, still safely locked away.

Dic- no- The talon was staring at the ground, eyes blinking, eyes shifting across the floor boards like the most intense staring contest. Clearly he’d gotten back from… whatever the fuck kind of state he’d been in. The Talon’s fingers fluttered at his sides, not trying to escape, but just – moving. Like there was a keyboard Jason’ couldn’t see.

He must have heard Jason, how could he not with that noise and with his training, but Dick just continued.

“What happened to you.” Jason asked, blunt and point blank, falling back to lean against the wall.

Dick’s eyes shot up to him and there was a strange sort of caution in his expression.

“I am loyal to the Court.”

Jason arched a brow.

“Yeah, no, not what I asked.” Jason replied dryly.

Dick’s head titled, and he looked strangely lizard like in the low light. All dark shadows and narrowed eyes.

“Isn’t it?” Dick drawled, “I know what you are.”

Okay this was totally not the conversation Jason was trying to have. Jason frowned.

“You do.” Jason repeated, a little slowly.

For some reason, Jason doubted that he was going to say Dimension-hopper next.

Dick looked away back to the ground, but his gaze was still on the same spot in the middle of the room, and he looked oddly… subservient.

“I am loyal to the court.” Dick repeated, and this time it sounded almost prayer like, “I am their talon in the dark, their weapon in the night.”

Creepy.

Also unhelpful.

“Great.” Jason opined lightly, “So I guess then you are never getting out of those ropes.”

A muscle in Dick’s face twitched.

“If that is what the court requires of me.” Dick said, low, “I live and die at their leisure.”

Dick thought-

“Woa there.” Jason blurted, standing up, “I’m not with the court.”

Dick didn’t look up, kept his head down. Like he didn’t believe him.

“I’m not.” Jason repeated, “I mean no way in hell would I ever join that creepy gang of shadow elitists-“

Vaguely Jason thought he should have stopped talking, should be using this knowledge to his advantage and boy he needed some advantage in this world. But it was too many shades of wrong.

Dick looked up, slow as molasses, something strange in his expression.

“You’re alive.” Dick said like it was his own death sentence.

Jason raised his hands, “Yes but that was a different universe and had to do Ras Al Ghul and a secret society and a Lazarus pit and maybe the world or universe or something being punched but I don’t-“

Dick’s expression could have been the textbook definition of disbelief.

Jason sighed explosively, “It’s true!”

“Its what you remember?” Dick queried lightly, not outright denial, but there was something odd about the way he asked.

“Yes!” Jason agreed, and maybe, maybe they were getting somewhere.

Dick’s expression shuttered off and he looked away.

“They can change memories.” He said, and he sounded bitter.

Arguing with a wall had probably a better success rate.

“Look I don’t care,” Jason dusted his hands in the air, “Believe what you want.”

Jason turned on his heel and threw himself on the couch, rolling to show Dick his back. It was childish and a little foolish, he knew, but the act gave Jason the tiniest bit of satisfaction.

He remembered only when he hit his borrowed bed again what he had wanted to ask Dick in the first place.

Didn’t move.

-=-

Jason dropped an energy bar on Dick’s lap the evening, didn’t say a word and didn’t look when Dick bowed his head his direction. He had more important things to worry about, but Jason still hid the kitchen knives and locked the door from both sides.

It was stupid, because Jason now held no illusions that Dick was at all trapped in that apartment, but still. Just in case.

He felt distracted on the way to Damian’s penthouse, thoughts drifting back to Dick, regardless of what he did. That was dangerous, Jason knew, because he was about to enter a high stakes Poker game with one of this universe’s most dangerous kids.

Fun times ahead.

Damian was standing out on the balcony , arms crossed and mask pushed back. Jason stepped unevenly on the rooftop when he saw that, saw the blatant disregard for his identity but Damian didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to put it on when Jason landed.

Deliberate.

Damian smiled at him, and it was the sort of smile Jason thought crocodiles had.

“Good Morning.” Damian said with a all-encompassing gesture, “Come inside for refreshments.”

Jason hopped down from the balustrade, eyeing Damian.

“Sure why not,” Jason said with a shrug, and copied Damian’s gesture at the door with as much mockery as he could manage, “After all I hate to be murdered outside.”

Damian smirked, looked him up and down and hummed.

“Funny, I thought you were already dead.”

And Damian swept inside, without even a look behind him, showing Jason his back without any hesitation.

Jason froze, watching him go, because Damian couldn’t know, he couldn’t. Jason reached up and brushed his hood to be sure it was all still opague, but it was fine and… and Jason had dawdled out here too long. He swallowed hard and forced his legs to move.

Inside the Penthouse was just as lush as outside. Big marble spaces, with white furniture and gold trimmings everywhere. Damian sat at the head of the long wooden table in the centre of the space, files at his fingertips, a coffee at his elbow and one placed across at the seat to the left side.

Jason could read so much into that placing, but he inside decided to focus on the fact that the coffee was steaming. The Damian he knew, couldn’t boil water, couldn’t make coffee, so assuming this one was the same, meant Alfred was definitely around.

It was a bit silly, but that made Jason feel a little less like he was going to be murdered. Also made his heart feel a little bit lighter but Jason was ignoring that.

Only a little less. Damian was still here, in this room, unsupervised.

“If you are going to insist on standing there, doing nothing, then I think any future deal we will have will be off.” Damian offered dryly.

Jason grimaced under his hood.

“Call it healthy suspicion.” Jason opted, and strolled over the table, wanting to take his time in getting there, “I mean yesterday was swords at throats, today its coffee…”

“Yesterday you were a stranger.” And Damian looked far too smug.

“And today?”

“I…” Damian paused, for effect like the little drama queen he was, “know more.”

“Do you now.” Jason said, mouth on auto pilot.

The seat was pulled out to the left of Damian, and Jason slotted in easily, but instead of sitting on the chair like Damian obviously intended, he turned at the last moment, sat on the table instead, body angled toward Damian. Predictably Damian’s face twitched.

“I do. But if you want to be coy about it, by all means, we can come back to that later.” Damian stood up, no longer dwarfed up Jason, “What is your proposal.”

How did he know and what. Jason had no idea but-

“As I said, simple, info for the lending of some equipment.”

“How do you know I have this equipment?” Damian asked, and it wasn’t a question, Damian just wanted to confirm what Jason already knew.

Jason leant back a bit, hand on the table behind him and watched Damian closely.

“Because it was part of Batman’s old equipment.”

Damian didn’t so much as flinch.

He had to know Jason was connected somehow. Narrowed down the list of people he thought Jason was then.

“Not very specific.” Damian said simply.

“What I need is very specific. Scientific, you could say.” Jason rolled the last word, he couldn’t reveal his hand, not yet, caution was the wiser move.

“You mentioned. And assuming I had whatever it was,” Damian hand-waved lightly, “How am I supposed to find a scientific specific something, I’m sure there would be a great many items that would meet that description in such a collection.”

And here was the next part of the gamble.

“You’re not. I am.” Jason kept his voice level, “You take me to Batman’s old equipment and I’ll know it on sight.”

Damian arched a brow, took his coffee cup off the table and sipped at it. Taking the moments to ponder, to think, when really Jason was sure, so sure Damian had already made his mind up.

“You must be very sure of what information you have-“

“What I have will be worth it.” Jason injected lazily.

“-and it will require great deal of trust.” Damian continued easily, “Especially someone that’s seen me without my mask, and is still wearing theirs.”

Jason smiled thin-lipped, tapped the hood.

“Sorry, this stays on.”

Damian sighed, like he was such a bother.

“Well if that’s it-“ Damian said slowly, clearly looking to close this up.

He needed some bait.

“I know Batman, Bruce Wayne, was killed by a Talon and I know the Court.” Jason injected, stating what he thought Damian suspected.

Damian froze, and something twitched in his face. Quietly he pulled his hands together and met Jason’s eyes.

“Do you have proof.” Damian said, short, succinct.

But his face was white.

Shocked.

Jason knew it like a kick in the ribs, Damian hadn’t really known Bruce had been killed by the court. The news had made it seem like Damian had been searching for Bruce, but Jason had been so sure that Damian know he was already dead. Particularly if Alfred was here.

And yeah, Jason totally felt like the world’s biggest jerk right then. It hadn’t been hard to piece together that Damian had been looking for his father. Easy to find out about Bruce’s death as a second hand comment from Dick more focused on Jason’s own murder.

Damian however.

Hell, it hurt Jason to think of.

What Damian must be thinking-

He had to get home.

“If you want more, we need to have a deal.” Jason said, and god he was going to be the nicest person in the fucking world to make up to Damian for this (even if it wasn’t his Damian).

He was such an absolute shit right then.

Damian looked young, so young, face suddenly vacant and staring at the ground. It was obvious he trusted the words - but why-

Then Damian looked up, his face a mask of cold indifference that started to shatter the moment Damian put it on.

“Yes, now leave.” Damian demanded, voice trembling.

He felt like something awful, something rotting scrapped on the floor and not worthy of anything, but Jason left, pretended not hear the shattering of ceramic as he launched himself off the rails.

-=-

Dick was exactly where Jason left him that evening. Folded over his chair, staring emptily at the ground. The power bar left unopened on his lap. They both knew Dick could at least get one hand free. But he hadn’t even tried.

Jason rolled his eyes, dropping the hood on the table with more force than he probably should have considering the explosives Jason still had in it. But screw it, he felt like shit, if he blew himself up in his carelessness he probably would have deserved it.

And Jason had even less time for Dick’s dramatics.

“So that’s your plan now?” Jason asked, annoyed more than anything else, “Just starve yourself?”

“I live and die at the Court’s pleasure.” Dick said, low, and subservient.

“Well then, eat cause the Court hasn’t issued your death sentence recently.” Jason snipped and hit the crouch, slumping hard against the pillows.

Guilt kicked in when Jason landed, and he managed to ignore it for one sullen moment. Then he sighed, and rolled over and stared at Dick, still bound, still looking sadly at the ground.

Fuck him.

Jason stood up, with knowing he was going to regret every moment of this, grabbed his combat knife from its sheath and cut through Dick’s binds. Dick didn’t immediately jump up, or try to grabble the knife off him and shank him - which was good- but he didn’t really do anything else either. Instead he just sat there as the ropes fell to the ground around him.

Jason stepped back, hands on hips and waited.

“Well.”

Dick glanced up, blinking foggily.

Jason sighed harder.

“Go on, get up, I’m sure your bursting to pee I’ve had you tied up for a full day.”

Dick just continued to stare at him.

“I’m not holding your hand, get up.” Jason said and pushed at Dick’s shoulder.

Dick was blank.

And yeah, this was the bit Jason didn’t want to do.

“Okay, fine, the court brought me back, and they have instructed me to keep you alive and with me.” Jason said, insincere as possible and Jason knew no one in their right mind would believe him.

Then again, Dick clearly was not in his right mind. His gaze sharpened and he rose.

“I live and die at the court’s commands.” He said, almost sounding relieved.

Jason pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and Dick moved off, not shutting the door behind him of fucking course, but at least he washed his hands afterwards and came back. He didn’t even look at the window or door.

Then Dick stood at attention next to him, and Jason threw the power bar at him and grabbed the phone.

After the day he had, he needed pizza and beer. He had a card he’d pick pocketed off Damian, because Jason went full asshole, he went all the way, and was fully intending to use it.

Dick did and said nothing, waiting on Jason with a eerie sort of satisfaction on his face that Jason couldn’t bear to look at.

-=-

At some point after the beer and pizza and another draining circular conversation with Dick, Jason had fallen asleep. A fact that only became apparent when Jason was blinking sleep out of his eyes and the sunlight was sitting just right on his eyeballs.

“Eulfh” Jason said, unintelligently and sun blind as he pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the couch only to have them whack straight into Dick’s bended knees.

Dick? What was Dick?

Dick, Talon Dick, and Jason jolted back, recoiling his legs onto the couch, adrenaline pumping hard and fast. But Dick didn’t move after him, didn’t pull a knife, just tilted his head and watched him.

Or rather Jason thought, kept watching him.

With the same fascination he’d had last night.

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face because yeah, thats right.

“Please tell me you didn’t stand there watching me sleep all night.” Jason muttered into his palm.

“I…” Dick faltered, and Jason peaked out from behind his fingers because huh, that was different, and then Dick frown and shook himself, “No. I didn’t.”

It sounded like a lie. But it was an odd thing to lie about for someone that confessed to killing this universe’s younger Jason without a bead of sweat. Jason shut his eyes wearily.

God. It was too much five minutes after waking.

He chose to forgo breakfast in favour of two cups of instant coffee, and with a look at the clock with a clearer head, he knew Damian was expecting him sooner rather than later. He moved past Dick, who chosen to perch himself on the back of a ratty sofa watching Jason move about the kitchen, and stopped himself.

He was relatively sure Dick was not going to kill him, yesterday had proven Dick was sure he was a court member or another Talon or something regardless of what Jason himself thought. He was less sure on if Dick would leave or not to get in contact with the actual Court. Cause Jason knew that regardless of what Dick thought, the Court would think Jason Todd, dead teen come back to life, would be more ‘actual risk we need to remove’ rather than ‘yay new team member’ like it was to Dick.

“You aren’t going to leave are you?” Jason asked, and winced because god, what a weak way of wording it.

Dick blinked slowly, “There is no need to.”

And it sounded honest. But.

“I’m going to have to tie you up. Er.” Jason said awkwardly, “Because I can’t risk-“

Dick didn’t even looked phased, which yeah more than a little disturbing, just got up, moved over to his chair and sat down, arms behind his back.

“Anything for the court.” Dick said, like a prayer, and Jason tied him up quickly thinking about the million the ways he was going to say sorry to his universe’s Dick when he got back.

Or maybe he’d just buy him an enormous chocolate butt and leave it on his doorstep. That might work too.

He left before he could think about it any further.

Of course, once he left Dick, Jason thoughts turned to Damian, and when they turned to Damian they turned to the way Jason had broke his heart at telling him his father that he had spent the majority of his life looking for was already in the ground.

Oh yeah, this universe was so fun.

Damian wasn’t waiting for him at the door this time, nor was he hovering on the adjacent rooftop with a sword waiting for Jason. No, instead Jason landed, unmet on Damian’s balcony and was forced to awkwardly knock on the balcony door.

Damian opened it.

He wasn’t in his semi-batman garb, he wasn’t dressed like a rich princeling with daggers up his sleeve. No. This time Damian was dressed in dark stealth like clothes, loose and made to blend in.

“Hi.” Jason said shortly, “Are you-“

Damian looked at him, blankly, turned leaving the door open, and walked inside. There wasn’t anything else to do, so Jason followed. Damian took them to the dinner room, and where yesterday had been clean surfaces was today organised chaos. Newspaper cuttings, hand-written letters, photos, all arranged across every inch of the long table.

It wasn’t the work of one night, Jason saw instantly, it was the work of years. Too much information, too many likely and different sources given away by the tells of all the varying forms, the fluctuating quality from a blood stained napkin to official police reports.

In the mess, Jason saw Bruce’s name repeated over and over, both in alias and in truth.

God.

“Explain.” Damian said, short and sharp and when Jason flinched up, Damian was staring at him, “I can work out of some it, but… I can’t grasp it all. You said you had information. Explain what happened.”

Damian had dark circles under his eyes, eyelashes were still clumped from tears, and Jason felt wretched all over again. Damian didn’t deserve this, not in any universe, but Jason? He couldn’t help him. Not long-term. He couldn’t stay.

“First.” Jason tasted the words, bitter in his mouth, “We need a deal. What I’m after, for the intel..” Jason said finally.

Damian’s expressed shuttered further and yes, Jason was a bastard, an utter bastard.

“We do not have time for that.” Damian said, slow and poisonous, “I’ve detected…an opening. What you need I have and I can guarantee that, your information is worth less the more time passes.”

An opening. Oh. Hell.

“You can’t go after the Court.” The words fell out before Jason could stop them, high with disbelief.

The corners of Damian’s eyes tightened, “That is none of your concern.”

Jason snorted, “Oh no of course not. Why should I care when it’ll be my information that gets you killed.”

“Exactly.” Damian agreed, the little snot nosed punk, “Now are you going to give me the intel or I am going to have cancel our deal.”

God. Damn It.

Jason pressed his hand against his hood, wishing for once he didn’t have it on so he could pinch the bridge of his nose because fuck his life.

“Look. I think you need to talk to someone.” Alfred, god, Alfred had better be the same in this universe ready to talk some sense into Damian, “If you go in there swinging, you are just going to get yourself and anyone remotely connected with you killed.”

Damian’s eyes were steel.

“Too much time has passed since his… death and in that time the Court has been growing, unchecked, wilder, more ambitious. More Talons roam the night, unmolested, and that cannot stand.” Damian swallowed, shoulders stiffening at his sides and grit out, “I will not let it stand.”

He spoke with an elegance all too familiar to Jason, one that was Talia all over, more so than his world’s Damian. But the stubborn pig headed ambition? Clearly there was a gene for that because that had to be from Bruce.

Damian was going after the Court. With or without Jason and without a Batclan behind him.

Fuck, this wasn’t Jason’s universe. It shouldn’t matter-

“Ok, new deal.” Jason said almost groaning, “I will provide you with intel and I will accompany you as a partner on your raids. Given that you will give me the device I want before the week is out, and that you will get the fucking Justice League when you see you are over your head.”

Damian smiled, and it felt like Jason had just fallen into the world’s biggest trap.

“I can tolerate that.” Damian told him, righteous all over, then without even pretending to seem unprepared for the situation, laughed right ahead, “Tomorrow we begin. The opening I have spotted is where I tracked a Talon to-“

Fuck it all, Jason was going to have get more info out of Dick wasn’t he?

-=-

Dick hadn’t untied himself, hadn’t done anything since Jason had left and Jason felt his insides jumble a bit at the way that Dick fucking didn’t even seem annoyed that he’d been tied up all morning. Everything was so darn wrong, and Jason tried to ignore that particular thought when Dick left to relieve himself.

When Dick returned, perching him absently on the sofa in the best vantage point of the room - which yeah Jason had noticed but he seemed more in wary alert than about to take out Jason - Jason decided pull another particular bandaid. He sat himself on the kitchen stool, swinging around to face Dick put his hands on his knees.

“Right, its time to talk Dickie.”

Dick blinked at him, unfazed, and god it made Jason want to see what he could do to phase him.

“What does the Court require?” Dick asked, easy as breathing.

“The Court,” Jason said with a grimace, and yeah Dick didn’t even seem to react to that either, “Needs to know what you know about the Court.”

Anyone with half a brain could figure out there was something wrong with that statement. But by the looks of Dick’s easy nod, he didn’t have half a brain left.

“Of course.” Dick said.

Well. Jason thought, that was easy. He’d almost thought that might have been the phrase that had triggered something in Dick, like, oh, say, Jason actually wasn’t the Court. Maybe that would have backed up the fifty times Jason had told him he wasn’t the court, and the insincere way he said he was now.

But apparently not.

How screwed was Dick’s head?

“Where is your base?” Jason asked.

Dick frowned, tilting his head, “My Base?”

Terminology maybe.

“Where do you go after to a mission, where do you sleep,” Jason waved a hand, when Dick’s face was still blank, “Er, where do you hang your claws at night?”

“After a mission I return to where I woke, there I either am given in a new mission or I am… stored.” Dick said the last word strangely and Jason stared.

“Stored.” Jason prompted, but he didn’t want to know, he really-

Dick looked at him, curiously head cocked as if seeing something Jason couldn’t, “A room, off a main corridor and I mostly wait. I’m not to be frozen, not yet, my missions are too successful, and the waking is too slow but sometimes it still happens. Between inactivity.”

They froze him. Or kept him locked up in a room. Jason glanced down having to shut his eyes for a moment, but Dick kept speaking.

“The Freezing tube is small, and the process quick, but its tight, and the waking is…” Dick trailed off.

Sweat broke out on Jason’s hands, his mind dancing on the image of a closed in tube, a tight box under the ground. Every breath he made sucking what little oxygen there was and-

Jason forced his eyes open. Dick was staring at him now, and Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that Dick looked… fascinated.

“Where.” Jason asked, voice rough.

“Past the main hall-“ Dick started but Jason broke in.

“No, where is this place, where is the compound?”

“I…” Dick frowned, “I know where but I can’t… The Court… I can’t…”

Dick’s hands were stretching out and back and Dick’s face was tightening, his frown deepening to sharp lines. Mental conditioning. Of course, Jason wasn’t surprised.

“Okay, don’t worry about that.” Jason dismissed quickly, and Dick’s face eased back into its expressionless resting face, “Could you lead me, a Court member, there?”

“Of course.” Dick said without hesitation.

Well. That was something.

Jason paused, as an idea hit him, he looked around the apartment.

“How long have you visited here?” Jason said slowly, because this place wasn’t just abandoned, not a top storey apartment even if it was a dodgy neighbourhood.

Dick actually smiled, looking over Jason’s shoulder.

“Sometimes after a mission I’d return here, store things.” His expression shuttered to something vacant again, “The owners had threatened the Court. They were sentenced to die.”

And die, they did. Jason had no doubt. It made sense why Dick had run into him that day. Still everything in the apartment was old, older than a couple of years. The papers on the coffee table were yellowed, and the old food in the fridge was puddles of mush.

“How long have you been working for them.” Jason asked.

“Time has no meaning.” Dick replied, back to eerily empty, “I live and die at the court’s command”

The question, Jason had already answered through his research, as scattered as he was. He picked up old papers that talked of a Robin before Jason, and the legal documents for Bruce Wayne looking after a ward named Dick Grayson, then the ward had vanished, unmentioned by papers except a sad missing child report. A year, at least on Jason’s timeline, before young Jason had entered the picture.

Then Talon Dick had killed Robin Jason at age fifteen and Bruce Wayne had gone ‘missing’ two years later.

And Jason didn’t want to ask that question, didn’t want to go down that path. He’d already put together the most likely outcome but he didn’t want to-

It wasn’t his universe, he reminded himself harshly.

But none of that seemed to matter anymore.

“Did you…” Jason asked and stopped, swallowed, forced himself, “Did you-“

“I killed you.” Dick said, and Jason’s voice died again, despite the fact he knew this, hew knew this and it wasn’t the question Jason needed to ask-

Dick’s expression was soft around the edges, something torn about the way he slowly slipped to his feet. Jason couldn’t look away.

“Order of the Court was to kill Jason Todd and I did.” Dick said, voice caught in a whisper, looking like that day he’d thrashed and thrashed until he stilled and barely moved again.

“Why.” Jason asked, unable to stop.

Because he’d been a kid-

“Bruce Wayne was a threat. He needed…” Dick said with a breath and his eyes danced down, danced away and Jason knew guilt when he saw it, “And I needed a lesson.”

He’d said that before.

“What did you do?” Jason had stood, barely registering his stool toppling over behind him.

Dick shifted to his back foot, face creasing, and unlike the confusion before, the lines were deeper, the edges pulled, and Dick’s hands pressed hard into his legs either side.

“I failed the court.” Dick said, “I live and die by the Court’s commands and I failed the Court I must be taught, I must be improved. I failed the Court so I must learn-“

“Dick.” Jason interrupted.

“I live to serve the Court. I die by their wishes. But they did not wish me death for my failures, they wished me to learn-“

“Dick!” Jason yelled and he reached forward, grabbing Dick’s shoulders.

Instantly Dick spun, eyes wide, and grabbed Jason’s shoulders and pushed all his weight onto Jason. Jason wasn’t expecting it, and he toppled back, Dick’s not inconsiderable weight pushing him back but before he could hit the ground, Dick moved, and they twisted to land on their sides and the room echoed with a bang.

Jason gritted his teeth, instantly pulling his arms up to break Dick’s hold -

But Dick had let him go, was already crouching low, staring out the window that-

Yeah, that was a bullet hole through the glass that had definitely not been there this morning. Jason’s eyes tracked that trajectory and saw the wall which had been behind Jason’s head moments prior, with a single bullet hole.

Sniper. Shit.

Jason got quickly up to a crouch, reaching in to pull out his combat knife strapped to his thigh, found the holster empty, and saw the glint in Dick’s hand, and instead quickly pulled out his boot knife instead. Dick wasn’t actively attacking him at present so Jason had deemed it a worry-later problem.

Current problem was a sniper.

Jason kept low, moving to the kitchen, to his guns, when two consecutive shots rang out. There was a crack of wood breaking but Jason quickly glanced back to Dick saw Dick unharmed but tense, and Jason knew he was certainly not hit, so why-

Then the window in the kitchen smashed open and the living room window exploded inward.

Jason just managed to roll to the side, to avoid a knife swipe and a follow up jab and Jason sprung to his feet, swinging out, but his arm was blocked by a forearm to his forearm, so Jason grabbed that arm, and ducked the follow up swing and spun his attacker over his shoulder and on to the ground.

Jason had just enough time to appreciate that yes, yes that in fact was a Talon, and this time with a face Jason didn’t recognise, and also oh shit, that was a Talon, and now Dick was armed too, he would swap sides and join the living room Talon and this Talon, and this time Jason might actually die again.

Then his thoughts were back on the fight as the Talon surged to his feet and slashed fast and hard at Jason. Jason ducked and weaved, blocking what with arms, and let the Talon drive him back into the kitchen and away from the other two. There was a minute gap in the Talon’s defences and Jason drive his knife forward in his own upward slash. He only skimmed the armour, but his knife caught the edge the Goggles of the Talon leaving the woman temporarily half-blind and Jason took his chance, kicked at the Talon’s head, landing a decent blow and then kept his momentum going and spun and ducked into a sweeping kick that had the Talon falling down and actually landing hard this time.

Jason glanced up quickly ready for the next attack from someone else, but instead there was only Dick running toward him, glinting knife in hand and Jason swore.

He lurched back, bringing his knife to a good defensible position, but Dick was fast too fast and Jason had moment to truly appreciate what an idiot he’d been trusting Dick with that knife, when Dick swung down his blade and-

And stabbed it right into the rising Talon’s eye. The Talon who had a blade a whisper of breath over the artery in Jason’s leg.

The Talon gurgled, then collapsed, knife spinning out of his control and away from Jason’s leg, and it was just Jason, squatting in the kitchen splattered with blood, a dead Talon at his feet and Dick hovering close enough to touch.

Dick slowly pulled back and Jason saw the blood he didn’t see earlier, the dark sprays of it on Dick’s armour, and the hand just visible around the corner.

“Well that… was unexpected.” Jason said, as level as he could, and then cause apparently he had a death wish, “You said I was sentenced to die.”

Dick moved, slick and stable, pulling himself up in a loose easy stance, eyes flicking across the windows.

“And die you did.” Dick said, cool as a cucumber with blood dripping down his blade, “The courts orders were to stay with you.”

Well the court orders Jason had lied about.

“Yes.” Jason said, stupidly. Because fuck, he didn’t actually expect it to remain like that in a combat situation.

Dick’s gaze flicked back over Jason’s head, to the living room and back.

“We need to move. I have a couple of other places, not known by others.” Dick said, all business.

“Yeah. Okay.” Jason said pulling himself upright, brain buzzing, mouth moving on autopilot, “Shame this hole was really becoming home.”

The biggest lie he’d ever told, but Jason looked up to Dick’s face, because Jason hasn't been the one storing things here for years, not little knick-nacks, not coming back here again and again…

Dick was looking right at him, “There are more important things.”

It felt like double-speak, and Jason stared at him for a moment, a moment too long because Dick turned, back a shifting wall of armour between them.

“Right.” Jason said, and his throat felt dry.

He needed to get out of this universe.

-=-

Damian's lead was a block of abandoned apartments, scheduled for a demolition last year that had never came. It hardly screamed Court of Owls to Jason as he inspected it with a dry eye crouched next to the mini-batman. The Court of Owls he remembered from his universe were rich snobs, mansions were their sort of thing. Jason could even dimly recall Alfred mentioning an underground lair, a labyrinth where Bruce had been captive. This, with its crumbling brick work and shattered windows, boarded doors, didn’t really look that sort of establishment.

“You sure?” Jason asked, keeping to the shadows.

Damian finished typing on a small computer, folding it away in his back pocket. He glanced over at Jason, white lensed eyes narrowing.

“Its not the Court.” Damian said with a sniff, “There were only four guards inside. Hired guns running high end narcotics. Cops en route.”

Wait.

“What do you mean ‘were’.” Jason asked.

“Were.” Damian repeated like Jason was an idiot, “As in, there were four guards but since I’ve disabled them there are now no guards. I’ve already looked inside but since you are the resident expert-”

“Jesus fuck.” Jason hissed, standing up stiffly because god damn it, “And what if it hadn’t been just four guards.”

Damian blinked at him, a stupid smug smile curling to life on his lips and damn Jason just wanted to wipe that look off his face, “Then I would have dealt with it.”

“And what if it had been the entire court you had just dropped in it? How exactly were you planning to get out then huh? I wasn’t here!” Jason waved an arm down at Damian’s stupid outfit, “I’m sure your ‘good’ and all but these people killed Batman and you had no backup-“

“I had backup.” Damian interrupted, smile faltering a bit at the mention of Batman.

Cocky, brash, fuck that was all too familiar. Jason had almost had this exact conversation before, only from the other side.

God. Was he turning into Bruce then??

“Alfred does not count-“ Fuck. Jason cut himself off but it wasn’t fast enough.

Not fast enough at all, Jason should have swallowed the damn sentence down because Damian straightened, eyes too bright and smile stretching wide. Just like Jason had just confirmed a theory. Fuck it. Damian had to know now.

“You really are pathetic at this cloak and dagger stuff, Hood.” Damian’s voice dripped with success, “Just give it up already.”

“Look. Kid.” Jason gritted out, ignoring Damian’s last comment entirely, it was safer that way, “If we are working together, that means we are working together. We scout, we go in together, or I just don’t tell you shit.”

“This output was from my intel.” Damian crossed his arms, “And if you withhold on me, I withhold on you.”

Fucking. Hell.

Jason pushed out a breath, and paced an angry line across the roof. Fucking hell, how had Dick been partnered to Damian without going crazy??? How?? Jason forced himself to a stop and glowered as best as he could through his helmet. Sure Damian couldn’t see it but it did make Jason feel fractionally better.

“Ok. Look, maybe you don’t trust me-” Jason started.

“You are still hooded.” Damian interrupted with a lazy shrug.

“But I reiterate.” Jason raised his voice a little louder, “If we are working together, we work together. I can hold myself in a fight, I’ve lasted against Talons before and clearly I need what you have.”

Damian shifted, arms crossed, mask warping as he moved through emotions Jason couldn’t quite name.

“I am aware of your fighting prowess.” Damian said, as if it was some great allowance, “And I suppose because of your expertise in the Talons means I would have a greater advantage in the field.”

Yes, Damian would. And a bigger advantage than he knew. Because his universe of not Jason was personally invested in not adding Damian's death to his conscience. The kid was a jerk, but there was a heart in there somewhere. Perhaps buried deep underneath the condescension and the pig-headed arrogance.

"Thank you for that grand and great compliment." Jason couldn't help but respond, words drenched in sarcasm.

"Your welcome." Damian, the brat, took it sincerely, "Now this was my lead. What are you going to add to this partnership?"

Partnership. The word gave Jason a terrifying vision of his future, playing the wayward Robin to Damian's mini Batman. And damn he needed to go home before that ever happened.

“I need to do some final confirmations." Jason said, "Be ready tomorrow night, midnight.”

Final confirmations being finding Dick’s hideout and checking there were enough Talons around to get Damian to admit they needed the Justice League. Then getting the device, and then getting the hell out of Dodge.

Hopefully.

-=-

Dick’s new safe-house was a cold, magazine-looking apartment in the Westend. Owned by a woman who worked more overseas than she did in Gotham and only came back, like clockwork at the end of each month. Dick had sworn it was unknown by the Court, found only by him on accident when he murdered a man nearby. Which was a another fun fact about Dick's terrible life.

Jason was due to meet Dick there after his little catch up with Damian, but, four buildings away, Jason swung to a stop. His neck prickled.

Dick's apartment scraped into view around the office building. No lights, no movement, nothing obvious about Jason's location about life. Unsurpising as Dick did tend to live in one spot in the dark but...

Something in the very edge of Jason's vision moved and Jason ducked under the rooftop ledge. He held, still and steady as he could, his hands pressing tight over his guns, a kick of adrenaline surfing high in his veins. Then, gradual as a glacier, he edged up, risking a glance over the ledge.

A figure was leaping high in the air between buildings, caught for a breath in the glare of neon billboard. Then they landed on the office building, two across from Jason, and slipped like water off the edge, effortlessly disappearing down the fifty story height. The shadow glinted with a gold edging that was all too familiar.

Talon.

Fuck. Dick.

Jason tensed, rising to his feet. Dick was in that apartment he-

A hand flattened over his mouth, yanking him backwards and Jason kicked off the ground, intending to tilt their weight backwards but the figure who grasped him just stumbled back, retreating until they fell under the shadow ventilation unit and Jason twisted-viciously, turning, gun raised close between them-

“Jason.” Dick breathed, goggled eyes over Jason’s shoulder, “Don’t. Move.”

Jason had listened to orders for years, and just like that, the old training came back and Jason froze. They were close, Jason’s gun between their chests the only thing in between them. So close Jason could see the flecks of grey in Dick’s irises as his eyes flicked behind him. So close Jason could see an old scar nicking across Dick’s jugular, so eerily similar to Jason’s own. So close Jason could feel Dick’s tension wind up, like a coiled spring mounting.

The city glare reflected on Dick’s goggles darkened for a short, heart stealing moment and Jason’s hand tightened around his gun.

Jason imagined being caught. Imagined a hundred Talons finding them. Imagined Dick finally turning.

But then the glare returned, and Dick’s eyes tracked over Jason’s other shoulder.

They stayed, pinned together for another eight breaths, each feeling longer and longer, until Dick nodded, a slight jerk of the head and slipped out between Jason and the shaft. Dick poised, head twitching each direction then darted out.

Jason followed, close to Dick’s heels as he dared, down from the rooftops and sticking close to the sides of the old buildings. They stayed close to fire escapes and stopped at any movement above them.

Twice they stopped for an stray cat. Once for a rat in an alley.

Twenty minutes later Dick stopped in a Church roof, ducking behind a gargoyle. A familiar gargoyle and Jason bit down a misplaced sense of relief. Familiarity was not safety. Not by a long shot. A lesson he’d learn a long time before Bruce.

“So. They have clearly marked out all your former kill spots.” Jason told him, because it was obvious that they would have, it was stupid mistake of Jason to assume they wouldn’t have.

First rule of decretive work, work out where the criminal knew, where they had been before.

Dick’s head tilted, and despite nearly twenty minutes of flat out parkour, his breaths were even, “The rebel faction is larger than I anticipated.”

Large enough to be the entire Court. Jesus fuck Jason was literally skating an inch from death with these lies.

“Yes.” Jason said, tried for once to put some sincerity into it, “We can trust no one.”

Dick’s eyes fixed on him, and for a moment Jason thought that this, after all the bald faced lies he had given, that the only lie he’d put effort into had backfired. Jason shifted his weight to hind foot.

“You can trust me.” Dick said, and bowed his head, “I live and die by the Court, I serve-“

Nup. Still skating an inch from death then.

“Dick. I know.” Jason broke in, not wanting to spend more time reliving those fun vows, changed the topic entirely. “You told me once that you could lead me, a Court Member, to the place where the Court was storing you?”

Those sort of sentences had been why Jason had been so blaze with lies before.

Dick’s head rose, and his face had stilled, the faint brushes of expression he’d had before, cleaned off. It was funny to realise just how much Dick expressed himself now, after a only a couple of days in Jason's company.

“Yes. I can.” Dick’s eyes dropped down Jason, to his guns, to Jason’s waist where his swords were still clipped, his mouth tightened, “We will not survive a confrontation.”

That could have been a subtle insult to Jason’s fighting skills, or a general comment about the number of Talons. Jason couldn’t help but think it was a combination of the two and he frowned.

“I don’t want a confrontation.” Jason heard the sour note in his voice and continued, rougher, “We need intel, I want to stake it out, and since we currently have no safe house and no place to be…”

Cause when fate closed a door, or when Jason fucking locked himself in, he broke a window out.

“You are too loud, too obvious.” Dick decided, the most forthright thing Jason had heard yet from him, “Stay behind me, follow my footsteps.”

Just like Jason had been doing for the first half of his life. Fuck. Also-

“Fuck you I’m-“ Jason started and Dick’s mouth did something, flicked out wide, like-

A smile. Dick, Talon Dick, was smiling. His face lighting up like Dick’s, like Jason’s universe Dick. And fuck it all, Dick looked-

“Fuck you.” Jason continued, had to continue, clip his mouth shut, before he said something stupid.

He turned away, a strange feeling in his chest, hollow and too full all at once, and didn’t even get the chance to push it down entirely until Dick’s hand was hitting his shoulder, thumb pressing into his muscle.

“Follow me.” Dick said, and there was now that mirth in his voice as he added, “Softly.”

Jason groaned to himself as he followed Dick off the Church. Because save him, Talon Dick had found his sense of Dickish humour.

-=-

Of all places, Dick lead them to a series of low office buildings, right on the edge of the Docks. Four large old squat buildings, pushed between two warehouses made with a flat roofs and clear, almost painfully clear, rooftop entrances. Certainly not the mansion with the underground labyrinth Jason had been expecting, but then again, that mansion had been for the Court. This was just where they dumped their playthings.

“Here?” Jason questioned, low in the apartment they’d broken into.

Dick glanced at him, and pulled something from his pocket, he straightened it, flicking it forth until it extended, like a telescope. He took a quick look through it, adjusted the view and offered it over, careful to keep the angle the same.

“Here.” Dick confirmed.

Jason glanced through the telescope, it was angled at the a section of wall just jutting out from the warehouse. However, that was not what Jason saw through the telescope. Instead of wall, there was a small series of ledges, leading up to a small landing and a door. At that current moment a Talon was climbing the ledge. Jason pulled the glass away, the Talon disappeared and Jason was back to looking at a boring old wall. It even managed to look brighter as the sunlight slipped across it from the East.

Clever.

“Any other entrances?” Jason asked, offering the scope back.

“Three.” Dick folded the scope away, “The storm water drain, the right warehouse has an entrance and grate on the centre roof. The warehouse is filled with workers loyal to court. The grate is techically an entrance, however its electrified and netted with lasers and I've never seen anyone come in that way. If you wanted to be the first you'd have to be a lot thinner.”

Humour. Again. Dick turned to him, as if waiting for the response his witty remark had got him. Jason pressed the corners of his mouth down flat.

“And I’m guessing the storm water drain…”

Dick sighed, like Jason was missing out on his wit the magnanimous gift it was, “fingerprint recognition before a guarded entrance.”

“They have their own power generator?” Jason asked, casting another eye over the offices.

Normally accessing a target meant sweeping around it, checking records and dates and times of people leaving. They didn’t have the time, not if every moment they spent out on the streets meant the Talons were closer to finding Dick, closer to working out who and what had happened and they couldn’t risk circling the building on foot. It had only been a gut instinct and Dick’s timely arrival that had saved Jason from another conflict before, Talons were too quiet, too subtle.

Even Dick, in this screwed up universe, was softer and faster than Jason could have ever remembered him. Perhaps not as physically strong. But knives never needed more strength to part flesh.

“I am…” Dick seemed to struggle, “A generator I don’t…”

Another one of those few unanswerable questions.

“All good Dick.” Jason brushed off, because they would if they were any good.

And the Court was.

And all Jason had to do now was show Damian that they needed the Justice League and then get the Universe Hopper and-

“Have you seen enough?” Dick asked.

Dick.

Jason forced a tight smile, “Not quite, we’ve gotta take the scenic route out.”

Dick arched a brow. But waved a hand to gesture Jason forward and followed him out.

-=-

Jason’s boots hit Damian’s apartment at 11:00pm, the balcony doors opened and Damian sitting at the long table, sipping at a drink. He glanced up at Jason, not a hint of surprise on his face and gestured to the seat beside him.

“Drink, Hood?” Damian offered, swiping at something on his tablet.

“You’re a bit young to be offering me that, don’t you think?” Jason snorted, and took the offered seat.

There was another tablet on the table and Jason picked it, up, gratified to see it was all ready unlocked, and a map of Gotham lay at his fingertips, he zoomed in on the docks, and icons over each building popped up. Jason resisted the urge to snort, it was a mobile friendly batcomputer for the discerning Gen Z Batling. Good to see Damian was typical regardless of the universe.

“The drink offer was for tea or coffee, not any alcoholic beverages Mr… Hood.”

Alfred. Jason tore his eyes up, to the now open door on the right, and there was Alfred. He looked older in this universe, grief wearing deep circles under his eyes, a hunch in his normally straight back and the bones in hands were pronounced as he held his own cup, sipping from it slowly.

“Hi…” Jason darted a quick look at Damian, who cocked a brow at him, sitting back, and since Jason had already stuffed that secret, “Alfred.”

Alfred’s mouth thinned, and he eyed Jason steadily, as if attempting to peer through Jason’s hood from half a room away.

“I do not believe we are acquainted?” Alfred’s voice was all distrust curled in British indifference.

“We aren’t.” Jason turned back, pointed as he could, to his tablet.

The silence road in the room, high and uncomfortable as Jason pulled up the specs, playing oblivious to the looks Damian and Alfred clearly passed between each other. Then, abruptly, Damian snorted, pulling his own tablet to him, the same office blocks that Jason was looking at already on them.

“So then, I guess your research was successful. This is their hideout?”

The specs on the screen were the blueprints from the council, the latest one, renovations done in 97, had a layout that was as labrinyth-esque as office blocks could go. And a layout that completely contracted the blue prints dated two years earlier, and an exterior that hadn’t matched up visually with what Jason had seen.

“This is more of a Talon storage point. Their weapon hanger really.” Jason cast his eyes up, found them meeting Alfred’s, “If you go after the court, I want you to see all the resources brought down upon you.”

“Yes, yes and so I’d give up, you’d call the Justice League, and you get out with your device.” Damian rolled his eyes, “Your plan is terribly transparent. But there is a flaw with your plan, I’m assuming to test their resources you were planning to get them to react to something, which would inevitably increase their awareness and ruin any surprise we would have had when we go for the Court itself.”

Damian would have been correct. Had Jason not appeared in this bloody universe.

“You are not going to get them by surprise.” Jason winced, thankful his expression was hidden, “The Court is already on alert.”

“Oh really?” Damian’s voice was flat, “Did a Talon go AWOL?”

Jason had known Damian would hear of the scuffle with the Talons. They’d left the bodies in the floor of the apartment after a loud fight that the neighbours would have called in. But Damian had said AWOL, not dead, and there was no way, no way at all that he could have known about Dick.

Still Damian looked too confident, too knowing.

“The point is,” avoiding the question was as good as admitting it, but there were no good options left to Jason, “That the Court is alert and checking their strength and now is the only time we can blame some one else.”

That was what surprised Damian.

“Blame the AWOL Talon?” Damian shot a fire quick glance to the tablet and then to the Jason, eyes narrowing, “Explain your plan.”

“You’ve still got the motorcycles?” Jason pulled back to the larger layout of the Docks, “I'm going to need to borrow them and a couple of other gadgets.”

"To do what exactly?" Damian pressed again.

-=-

Dick’s armour was on the smaller side, but a cache of hidden buckles and straps meant that it still fit. It was tight, breathing in deep was hard, but the ensemble was light, easy to move in. Too light, Jason had doubts about the armoured nature of the outfit but. Hopefully he wouldn’t need that.

According to Dick the storm water drain was recorded for five miles either direction before the hidden entrance. So, by now, surely, they would have picked up on him, coming from the East.

But Jason’s only company in the tunnel remained the sloshing of his own footsteps, and the squeaking of distant rats.

Jason pressed on, shoulders back stiff and soldier like as he’d seen Dick do. Mimicking Dick’s movements were easy, Talon Dick had Dick’s liquid grace, one that Jason studied for years, that was broken up with a military stiffness that wasn’t unlike the SAS training Jason had endured in his rebirth training sessions.

The tunnel sloped around a corner, and the entrance came into sight. It was innocuous, a bit like a service door, round, vault-like door with a rusty looking keypad beside it. No obvious cameras, no high tech gadgets sticking out, just a very smooth looking job.

Jason went up to the key, and scraped his fingers carefully around the outside of the lock. The lock came up, like a flap, just like Dick had said, and the fingerprint pad stuck out.

Pulling a glove, Jason pressed his finger down. The silicone fingerprint over the top read quick and clean, flashing green and the door popped softly, and Jason flipped his gloves back on.

He cracked the door, glancing inside, hand pressing to the inside rim of the entrance.

There was a corridor, dark and long leading to a staircase, lit by warehouse styled long lights. Doors bracketed the corridor, every five metres or so, keypads and folders outside each one.

A shadow peeled off near the wall, and Jason held still as a tall, willow-like Talon prowled for him.

“Who do you serve?”

Jason ducked his head, held his hand to his chest, “The Court, I live and die by the Court’s-“

A finger ended with a savage looking metal claw, pressed under his chin and Jason’s hands dropped to his sides as he let the Talon bring his head up. He grasped the knife hilts at his side, and held perfectly still.

The Talon’s goggles were clear, and Jason saw the grey dead looking eyes inside.

“Who are you?”

“A Talon, a weapon in the night, a whisperer following the Court’s commands.”

The claw pressed deeper, pricking with pain.

“Who are you?” The Talon asked again, and there was a flicker of movement down the hallway.

Well. Jason had been expecting to get farther, but…

“A talon.” Jason breathed, hand firming around the handle of his dagger, “A weapon-“

With one hand he grasped the Talon’s arm, yanking down from his neck. The other plunged up, slotting in deep between the Talon’s ribs, just deep enough to risk a puncture of a lung if he pulled it out.

Then Jason shoved him back and it might have been shock, or may have been Jason had nicked something else but the Talon fell like a stone, hands at the dagger, mouth still open. Jason did not have the time to see him land, the darkness was moving, Talons materialising, glittering with blades.

Jason ran. He skidded to the door, ducking low, four blades flying over head, and dropped the flash bang and sprinted.

For a moment the drain lit up behind him, bright as daylight, every scrum line obvious on the wall, the rats scuttling away, and Jason’s exit two metres away and the next it was pitch dark.

And in the darkness, the sounds of boots moving in the water filled the air.

It was a blind grab to find the ladder, and Jason scrambled up, shoving up and driving right into comparatively bright street. He hauled himself up, nearly clearing it when his leg spasmed.

There was no time to think, Jason hauled the rest of himself out, saw the knife imbedded in his calf, pulled it out, tossed it to the side and slid the manhole cover back over.

He hurried to his feet, each step awaking the injury in a fissure of iron-hot pain, but he made the corner before he heard the manhole cover clatter open. Another corner, leading to a small alley and there, in glorious metal was Damian’s bike.

Jason flicked out the key, and hit the gas as soon as he was able. He rocketed out of the alley, three Talon divings for him at the entrance, their fingers scraping ineffectually across Jason’s back and the motorbike’s case, and Jason hit the street hard, skidding around to the major street in view.

His right arm jerked forward and a starburst of pain bloomed in his shoulder, radiating down his entire arm like a hot poker shoving through his veins, shocks vibrating through his hand.

“God damn Talons” Jason hissed out, barely seeing the road under him, the turn and traffic coming up, “Fuck.”

The bike wobbled beneath him but Jason clung on hard with his left, pushing the turn to right and breaking neatly between two oncoming cars. The cleaner, two cars in Jason’s sight and he pressed down as hard as he could, hearing the bike turbo’s whine high and thready underneath him.

“I’m fine. Totally fucking fine.” Jason tried to steady his breaths, but in each inhale it felt as it something was punching him down, pushing the air out.

He needed to access the damage. Fuck.

He pushed south, until the buildings were larger, flasher. Then with a flick in the mirrors he pulled hard into a alley.

As soon as he’d slowed enough, Jason glanced over his shoulder

There was a knife in his shoulder, almost in his armpit, blood trickling down in steady waves. Jason plucked his right hand from the motorbike, and attempted to curl his hands. His right hand twitched, and the fiery breath of pain licked right up his arm localised in a tight ball at the knife.

“Just Fantastic. Exactly what I needed.” Jason squeezed his eyes out.

The knife had hit a nerve. Jason needed to pull it out before it severed it. But. He needed to pull it out in a way that also wouldn’t server it.

Fuck.

“Right. This is fine.” Jason pulled out his empty knife sheath, unclipping it, and sticking the rubber in his mouth.

He bit down hard, the bitter taste of grease hanging in his mouth, and curved his right shoulder in as far as he could manage, and reached with his left hand. He touched the knife, a firm a hold as he could manage.

It flared, deep down to his bones and Jason bit down into the sheath hard. He imagined for a tenuous moment his arm sliced off, and surely, surely, that would be less painful. But the pain didn't stop, didn't end, and Jason's grip tightened.

“Right.” Jason muttered, blurred words with the sheath.

And he pulled.

The whiteness flooded back in, pain like fire igniting in his shoulder and his arm and then the ground raced towards him, the heavy motorcycle bearing him down.

Great, Jason thought, absent and foolish as he slipped, dying in alley, his life was so glamorous.

He was out before he hit the ground, the knife clattering from his hand.

#jaydick #jaydick week #jason todd #dick grayson #aoida fic #dear lord i tried so hard to finish this and I nearly did #four-ish more scenes to write #def not happy with the editing here so WILL ATTACK before a03 posting #talon!dick #fanfic

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

Text

A Little Voice Told Me - Pt. 3

Poly! MC Summary: Words hurt and leave their scars. MC learns this the hard way after hearing some not-so-nice whispers about them while on a date with Beel. How are they supposed to be the partner of the seven lords of the Devildom when they just don't measure up? Part 1: HERE, Part 2: HERE Previously on A Little Voice Told Me...

The brothers had thought of a number of ways you could've reacted to them confronting you. Lucifer thought that perhaps you would snap at them and distance yourself further. Mammon, Levi, and Asmo expected a few small tears followed by a cuddle session. Satan imagined a slightly more dramatic telling, like something from one of his novels, that ended him being your hero and massacring all those who dared speak ill about you. Beel thought perhaps you could talk over a bunch of comfort foods that allowed you to remain calm and feel safe. Belphie had hoped that perhaps you hadn't believed what you overheard, and the two of you could laugh at how idiotic even the idea of them not loving you was. But you, breaking down into tears, sobbing the words "I'm sorry" over and over again? None of them had expected, nor were prepared, for that. Any anger or tension that the boys previously had was instantly replaced with worry about your well-being.

Asmodeus was the first to reach you. He quickly pulled you against him and held you as tightly as he could. "Easy now, dear. It's okay," he glanced up to look at his brother anxiously standing around the two of you, itching to comfort you but unsure as to what they should do. You trembled in Asmo's arms and fisted his shirt in your hands, no doubt wrinkling the expensive fabric. "They were right, were-weren't they?" you pulled away just enough to look up at Asmo. The poor man nearly choked on the remorse that filled him at the sight of your tear-filled eyes pooling with sadness, despair, and, most disturbingly, acceptance. "Y-You guys are breaking up with me? You-You finally realized you could d-do better than a-a-a-" you tried to continue but became too overwhelmed with emotion as you began sobbing once more. Satan rushed forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. "MC, hold on. We're not breaking up with you." You hiccupped as the others began to crowd around you. "B-But Asmo said you guys wanted to talk and I-I thought that maybe th-those other demons were right and y-you guys didn't want me anymore." With those words alone, you had shattered the hearts of every person in that room. In seconds, you found yourself in the middle of a group hug.

No one said anything. They simply wrapped you up in their arms and supported you as wept. Although they had been seconds away from tearing into each other moments before, none of that mattered if you were hurt. You would forever be their first priority. "Beloved, we love you exactly the way you are," Lucifer whispered softly as one of his hands caressed your back. "Whatever those simpletons said, they're wrong. They don't know you; just like they don't know us." Belphie was running a hand through their hair, hoping that his influence would help calm you a little. "If we could, you know that we would tear apart every person who ever spoke badly against you," he could feel his anger towards the idiots that caused this build-up again inside him. Satan nudged Belphegor's side and gently shook his head. The youngest demon sighed and rested his head on top of yours. "Even we aren't strong enough to control city gossip. We can't change what they think, necessarily, but we can make sure that you know that it's not true." You trembled in their arms as your cries slowly dwindled down to the occasional sniffle. "Th-They said that you guys were only dating me o-out of pity and that I was nothing compared to you, a-and how I was jus-just a nuisance," you whimpered as you recalled the hurtful words. "A-And I know that's not true. It was so stupid because I know you g-guys love me. B-But it made me r-realize just how insignificant I am compared to a-all of you. I d-don't understand wh-why all of you would settle for a human who won't live nearly as long as you, and w-who can't even use magic." Mammon frowned deeply as he squeezed one of your shoulders. "Treasure, look at me," you shakily did as told. Mammon was staring down at you with a desperate, anxious expression. His eyes found yours and your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. "Those assholes don't know what they're talkin' about. You're not insignificant. Even here in the Devildom, surrounded by all these different beings, you are so much higher above them. You're the brightest jewel among us MC. You're the only person to have ever formed pacts with all seven of the Lords of the Devildom. You're the ambassador of the human world. You have brought this family closer together in just over a year than anyone has managed in the centuries that we've been alive." Your lip quivered as Levi rubbed your arm. "He's right. I'm the literal embodiment of envy. I can tell you right now that all those people are just saying those things because they're jealous. They're nothing but low-level slimes. But you? You're the big boss that could have them destroyed with a snap of your fingers." Beel looked down at you guiltily as he patted your back. "I shouldn't have left you alone like I did. Even more so, I should've paid closer attention to what was happening around us. I'm sorry you ever had to go through this MC." You released Asmodeus to hug Beelzebub as you snuggled close to him. "It's not your fault, Beel. They were really careful about it when you were around. You couldn't have known," the redhead didn't say anything, he just bent down to envelop you in his arms. The eight of you stood there in the dining room, nestled closely with one other, taking silent comfort in one another without a single care for the world around you. "I think perhaps we should move this to the living room," Asmodeus offered as the boys began to release you from their hug. "Beel can make some snacks, Levi can find us a good movie to watch, Belphie can go gather a bunch of blankets and pillows and the rest of us will stay with you to make sure you don't get too lonely," he cupped your face. "I think a nice lazy day in would be good for everyone. Does that sound good, Beautiful?" I chuckled tearfully and leaned into Asmo's touch. "That sounds perfect. You guys are so nice to me. I don't deserve-" You never got to finish your sentence as Asmodeus captured your lips with his own. With that one kiss, you could feel your worries and doubts melt away as you could feel every ounce of affection,

desire,

and love that Asmodeus felt for you pour into your very being. "That's where you're wrong, dear," he purred softly against your lips. "It is us who don't deserve you," he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead before taking your hand into your own and leading you to the living room. He looked over his shoulder and smirked at his brothers. "Go gather the things. We'll just keep the couch warm while you're at it," you could hear the wink in his tone. "Oi! I want a kiss too!" "Y-Yeah, Asmo! You can't hog MC! That's not fair!" You giggled at Mammon and Levi's protest as you snuggled up to Asmodeus. You were so silly to think for even a second that these demons who follow you around like love-sick puppies would ever tire of you for a second. You were their everything, and they were yours, and nothing anyone said would ever change that.

***And scene! That was a wild ride, but I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you for supporting me with this mini-series and thanks once again to @ang3lsblues for the request that inspired it all!***

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Date With the Side Characters is Going Terribly and Then it Starts to Rain

Brothers ver.

Diavolo

It was a tragic truth that the poor Crown Prince didn’t get to go out and have fun very often, but he had managed to get a singular day off! He of course was going to spend it with the future monarch-consort of the Devildom!

Diavolo had a whole list written out that was full of fun cliche date activities that he wanted to try, and it was also full of stuff MC said they wanted to do, so the date was going to be completely perfect.

As Diavolo and MC walked hand in hand to Madame Scream’s, they both took notice to the fact that literally every single demon in the vicinity was staring at the two of them.

The crown prince laughed it off, saying that MC looked so positively radiant that everyone couldn’t help but stop and look. MC laughed and leaned their head against Dia’s arm, but both of them knew full well that everyone was really staring at Diavolo.

To be fair, wouldn’t you stare if the most powerful person in the entire realm walked by holding hands with a pathetic little human?

They got to Madame Scream’s, got their sweets, then Diavolo got a phone call. It was Lucifer frantically explaining that the RAD gym was on fire and he needed to run everything by Diavolo before he could do anything about it.

That ate up about fifteen minutes and the desserts ended up getting cold… Diavolo tried to make light of it as the two finally got to eat their chocolate chip cookies.

“So apparently one student thought it would be a good idea to set a firework off inside, you know I encourage having fun at school but maybe they should have set this off outside.” “Maybe..?”

Next it was time for a romantic walk on the beach! That would have gone better if Diavolo remembered it was giant-crab season. As cool as it was to watch Diavolo hammer-throw an eight foot tall crab into the ocean it left MC’s ankles vulnerable to get pinched by regular sized crabs.

And maybe they both should have wore appropriate shoes… they were sinking into the sand and it was getting into their shoes…

Okay, so the beach didn’t work out, Diavolo had plenty of other ideas! They just had to- wait he was getting another call.

Half an hour later, Diavolo was finally able to hang up and gave MC an apologetic look. He said that he needed to cut the date short and go to an unavoidable meeting…

Oh well, at least this date couldn’t get any-

A loud crack of thunder caused Diavolo to nearly drop his phone in surprise. Oh… oh no… not rain…

Large droplets of water pelted the pair as they waited for Barbatos to pick them up. Diavolo slowly lifted up his arm and shielded MC from the rain as best he could. Well… this outfit was ruined, the least he could do was try and save MC’s…

“Well…” Diavolo tentatively began. “I heard getting caught in the rain is supposed to be romantic..?”

MC only sighed and moved a little closer, they folded their arms and stared blankly ahead. Their glassy expression made the crown prince’s heart sink right to the floor. Maybe he could cancel the meeting! He promised he’d spend more time with MC and he intended to keep it!

“MC, I could-”

“Dia, no.” MC looked up and gave him a small smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I knew what I was getting into when I said I’d be with you. Your kingdom is more important than one little date.”

“But I wanted to make you happy today…” Diavolo mumbled. His kingdom had always come first, before his friends, before MC, before even himself, was it so much to ask to have just one day for him to spend with the person he loved?

The human reaches up and lowered Diavolo’s arm and looped it around their shoulders. “And you did, any time that I get to spend with you makes me happy. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. The crab moment was pretty awesome.”

MC pulled out their DDD and showed Diavolo a picture of himself chucking the giant crab into the watery horizon. “We can put at least one moment of this date into the photo album.”

The precise tapping of the falling raindrops cause the DDD to flick to the next picture, which was an awkwardly angled snapshot of MC brandishing a stick at a much smaller crab who had attached its claws to their ankle.

“Uh, maybe not this picture…”

Barbatos

The poor butler rarely ever gets a day off, and he could tell MC missed spending time with him, so he asked Diavolo for a day off.

Of course Diavolo said yes, but when the day of the date came…

Barbatos saw every mishap and disaster coming a mile away. The smart thing to do would be cancel the date, but NO. Barbatos was going to use his powers for good and make sure MC had the time of their life!

The first disaster was supposed to come in the form of a pickpocket stealing MC’s wallet, key word being supposed.

As the perp made their way through the somewhat crowded sidewalk, fully prepared to swipe some wallets, Barbatos quickly twirled and dipped MC out of the way. This action also conveniently had the result of Barb knocking the pickpocket out cold.

MC of course, was none the wiser of the attempted theft and just assumed Barbatos was being suave (tm).

The second disaster was both MC and Barbatos getting hot coffee accidentally spilled all over them. Or it WOULD have been if Barbatos hadn’t quickly notified the person that would have spilled the drink that their shoelaces were undone.

Hell yeah! Second disaster averted!

The date progressed smoothly, well, as smooth as it could have gone. All those days of work and the task of making sure MC was none the wiser of any of the nasty things that could have ruined the date was really making Barbatos tired…

“Barbatos, are you alright?” “*exhausted breathing* Y-yes dearest, of course. Don’t trouble yourself.”

MC would have bought that lie if Barbatos didn’t look like he had just finished running a ten kilometre long race through a heatwave.

After making sure MC was not in the path of the escaped hellhound that would be running down the street in three, two, one, there it went, MC was safe and sound, Barbatos sighed in relief.

Just one more thing…

In the smoothest possibly motion, Barbatos opened the umbrella he had been carrying and held it over himself and MC.

MC looked up at the umbrella perplexed. “Barbatos, why-”

Thunder rumbled as the first drops of rain pelted harmlessly against the umbrella. Barbatos smiled softly and took MC’s hand. “Did you enjoy the date, darling?”

“Have you been doing damage control all day..?” MC asked. “Oh no wonder you look exhausted…”

Barbatos’ face burned with embarrassment when MC wrapped their arms around him.

“You work way to hard, this date was supposed to be relaxing for the both of us,” MC sighed. “You know what? We’re going to go back to the Demon Lord’s Castle, and I’m making you tea and snacks.”

“MC..?”

They began to pull Barbatos in the direction of the castle and plucked the umbrella out of his hand.

“I’ll hold this.” MC smiled brightly. “You relax, mister.”

Barbatos was about to protest, then sighed, no future he could see in his brief overview involved MC giving up on their new mission to make him take a break. He felt himself smile, he really lucked out with this human, didn’t he?

Simeon

The next volume of TSL had been released and Simeon was officially completely exhausted. He had spent the past two days signing special hardback copies and his writing hand was officially deceased.

He needed to relax and unwind… who better to do it with than MC? Simeon simply invited MC over to Purgatory Hall to hang out.

Oh my~ premarital eye contact~

It was just so nice, MC rested their head on Simeon’s chest while they lounged in bed watching TV, their hands gently intwined, the smell of Luke baking cookies…

Simeon let out a content sigh, he was truly and completely at peace in that moment. The soft knock on the door to his room barely phased him.

Solomon poked his head into the room with a bright smile.

“Hi you two, so sorry to barge in on your date, but before Luke took over the kitchen I made way too much food. I’ll bring some in for you guys!” “Solomon no-” “Wait!”

The date was now in intense danger. They needed to get out of there immediately! The first thing the angel could think to do to save the love of his life was to throw them out of the window.

Fret not, MC’s fall slowed considerably and they gently landed on the grass outside thanks to Simeon’s magic, but the angel himself was not as lucky. Yes his fall was slowed, but he still faceplanted into the dirt.

The two ended up running for dear life away from Purgatory Hall, further exhausting Simeon.

Well, at least they ended up near a very pretty fountain. Simeon and MC sat on the fountain ledge and resumed their snuggling.

Until Simeon got a phone call from a very frantic Luke begging for help with his math homework.

Due to being quite rusty at the subject, Simeon had to teach himself how to calculate the square root of something and then teach Luke, which was honestly frustrating for everyone involved.

After the homework was felt with, Simeon got ready to sit back down on the fountain ledge, ended up missing, then slipped straight into the fountain. It was a good thing that the water was shallow…

Then to MC and Simeon’s horror, it began to rain.

“Well…” Simeon sighed, he accepted MC’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the fountain. “This isn’t so bad..?”

Lightning cracked in the distance, Simeon pulled MC into his arms on reflex, only to then realize that MC had become just as soaked as he was.

“I… sorry, MC.”

Simeon slowly unwrapped his arms from around MC, but the human remained firmly in place. “Ah, it’s fine. Want to call a cab or back to Purgatory Hall?”

“Y-yes, that sounds-” Simeon felt around for his phone, then winced and looked into the fountain. His phone was lying at the bottom of the fountain… “Do you think you could call?”

MC perked up and planted a kiss on Simeon’s cheek. “Of course, we can cuddle in the car.”

“That sounds wonderful…”

Solomon

Solomon decided to text MC at two in the morning to ask them out. In his defence, he was up late making potions and didn’t notice what time it was.

“Hey MCMCMCMCMC-” “ITS TWO OCLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.” “Wanna go on a date tmrw?” “…ok.” “🥳” “see you tomorrow, Solomon.” “Oh yea- that reminds me- look at this snail I saw yesterday.” “Effervescent.” “Marry me.”

Obviously super happy that MC said yes to the date, Solomon was newly rejuvenated and went back to making his potion. It was six in the morning when he realized that maybe he should have just quit while he was ahead and went back to sleep.

It was a little late for that! He needed to go to school, then go on the date. Solomon gracefully took MC’s hand, led them out of the school, then fell down the stairs.

It um… may have messed up his tailbone. Solomon never felt more like an old man than when he and MC sat down at the cafe for coffee and MC had to help him into his seat.

The coffee arrived, MC and Solomon drank it, and Solomon just sighed in relief. This was nice, time with his sweet MC…

The way they made him feel so completely at ease… that smile… those eyes… those eyes were looking very confused-

“Solomon…” “Yes my sweet?” “There’s uh… there’s a giant spider on your head…”

…Solomon looked up and the giant spider fell right into his drink. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

A little later, he and MC were walking hand in hand through the park, the darkness of the Devildom was almost comforting as the fireflies and pixies created little balls of light that danced around the pair.

It was such a soothing sight to behold, Solomon and MC sat down beneath a giant tree. MC rested their head on his shoulder, and Solomon let out a content sigh. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment…

Solomon was harshly shaken awake by MC who yelled at him for falling asleep in the presence of pixies. Solomon had completely forgotten that pixies like to possess sleeping people. That was probably why he was awoken in the middle of stuffing his face with cookies that were in his backpack.

The two unanimously decided that it would be best to head back to Purgatory Hall. When the two had just returned to civilization… Solomon heard thunder.

Quick as a flash, Solomon looped his arm around MC’s waist and pulled them closer, using his other hand to draw a circle above them, when the rain began to fall, the two were completely dry thanks to the shield.

“Ha… HA! HAHAHA!” Solomon pointed and laughed at the sky. “GOT YOU BITCH!”

“Solomon..?” MC asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

The sorcerer looked at his dear sweet perfect MC, gave them a toothy smile, and shook his head. “No darling, I’ve been awake for 56 hours.”

“Wait what? You texted me at two in the morning, you couldn’t have been awake for more than an extra few hours..?”

Solomon peppered MC’s face with sleepy kisses as the rain pattered against the shield. “I have a weird life.”

“You know what, I buy it.” MC sighed fondly. “Do you want to go home and sleep?”

“More than anything, I’ll teleport us home!”

“NO! Let’s just call someone to pick us up!”

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Solomon #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

Text

hole-y

George x reader angst/fluff

description - Y/N and the Order head out to deliver Harry to the burrow on the night of his seventeenth birthday. Chaos ensues and when you reach the burrow, you couldn't be more thankful for your friends and family being safe.

warnings - minor talk of gore and injuries, death, general warning for george being an absolute angel. Fem pronouns and reader gets picked up

A/N - so this is the first time ive posted in like months i think which is a little crazy, im so sorry for the delay. This is something that i just really wanted to write, i will be posting some requested writings soon as well as hopefully some more writings outside of just harry potter and marvel.

word count - about 3600

MASTERLIST

You were terrified. The feeling in the pit of your stomach made you want to cry but you pushed it down. There were bigger matters at hand. Bigger things to worry about. One of those things being the possibility of you never seeing your best friend or your boyfriend again. The thought made you shake and when you looked over at Fred and George you knew they were thinking the same thing.

You had been friends with the twins since as long as you could remember. Well actually, you had disliked them when you first met them, they were much too loud for you to get along with and they frustrated you to no end but you somehow had all of you classes and activities with them. They accidentally let loose a prank on you in your third year and you screamed at them before going up to the astronomy tower and crying. They followed you a few minutes later and apologized and sat with you until you stopped crying. Actually they stayed with you until they could make you laugh. From then on, you had a soft spot for the twins and the same happened to them.

You didn't know when you started to have romantic feelings for George, he always said that he started to feel something for you when he was in fifth year and you sneezed so hard you made a nearby owl fly away. You thought that was rather ridiculous but it made you blush all the same. You started dating in sixth year when Fred nearly shoved you two into a closet and told you he wouldn't let you out until you talked to each other about your feelings. Since then you had been the happiest you had ever been in your life and you were forever thankful to Fred who took 100% credit for your relationship. They were your family, all the Weasley's were. Now, looking at everyone you loved in a room, you felt worry rise in your throat. No, worry wasn't the right word. Terror.

George pulled you into his side and he kissed the top of your head deeply.

"I love you. You don't have to do this." He mumbled into your hair and you sighed.

"You know just as well as I do that we both have to do this. It's okay, I'll be with Moody. He won't let anything happen to me." You muttered and then turned so your face was pressed into his chest. "But I love you too." You whispered and a tear fell from your face and into George's shirt. You then pulled away and pulled Fred into a hug. He groaned dramatically.

"No, I'm hugging you. No complaining." You grumbled and he complied, his hand going around your back and smoothing out your hair. You knew he was looking at George, some sort of twin telepathy going between them but you didn't care. When you pulled away, both of them smiled gently at you. Then before you knew it, the polyjuice potion was being passed around. You gave one last look at George and drank the potion and he did as well. It was the worst tasting thing you'd consumed in a long time and as you were keeping yourself from throwing up at the taste you felt yourself get a bit taller. You looked to your side to see two more harry's. You smiled at them and began to change your clothes.

You had agreed to go as Harry with Moody, Mundungus would also be there as himself. You had decided to switch last minute. You all walked out of the house as the minutes ticked by waiting for Harry's protection charm to end. Eventually you all were off with one last longing glance at George.

The battle was one that would haunt you for the rest of your life. As soon as you left there were death eaters on you. All you could do was hold onto your broom for dear life, Moody on the broom behind you and Mundungus on a separate broom right next to you. Before you could think, there was green all around you and screaming from every direction. You just focussed on getting to the Weasley's, a route you knew by heart, and let Moody do the protecting. At some point you looked to your right and Mundungus was gone. When you looked to your left you were horrified to see the dark lord flying next to you. Tears came to your eyes at the realization that you would probably not be making it out of there. Moody quickly began sending spells his way but it was not an even fight. He held off Voldemort for an impressive amount of time but all good things end. You heard the killing curse and saw the green light and you expected it to hit you, you were the target. Somehow Moody got in front of you to stop you from getting hit and you screamed. When Moody's body fell from the broom, yours did too. You hit the ground with a thud and your body immediately screamed in pain. You looked to the side of you and saw Moody's body. Tears were falling from your face but the shock running through you prevented you from feeling whatever damage you took from the fall. You took a breath and gathered yourself. You needed to get out of here. You would have time to scream and grieve later if you made it out of this alive. The death eaters obviously thought you to be dead and Voldemort had fallen back for some reason. You feared it was because he realized you were not the real Harry. Your tears stopped, face hardened, and you stood with slight difficulty. You would have to get to the Weasley's and you prepared yourself to apparate. When you did, your aim had been a bit off. You were in the bog outside the burrow and you could see the light in the distance. There was a panic at the house and you realized that the others had all arrived. Despite the pain in your legs, you began to sprint to the burrow. You noticed that you were yourself again, your hair getting in your eyes as you ran.

"Y/N?" You heard Remus yell and you kept running. Someone pulled you into them and you looked up to see red hair. You had arrived at the burrow and the tears had begun as well.

"Fred, Moody is dead. Voldemort killed him. Mundungus disapparated right at the beginning, I don't know where he went. It was just me and Moody and then he just-"

"Shhh, hey you're safe now, it's gonna be okay." He muttered and you noticed the break in his voice. You suddenly realized that you didn't feel George near you. You pulled back quickly. "Living room" Fred stated and you headed in, Fred following behind you. When you saw George though, you were not filled with relief. In fact you were so filled with dread that you thought you might just throw up.

"Is he..." you whispered. You couldn't finish your question, dreading the answer.

"m' not dead" Came a whisper from the man you loved and tears began streaming down your face as you collapsed next to him and buried your face in his chest. Your breathing was rapid and your heart was racing. It only slowed when you felt a familiar hand brushing through your hair.

"Fred, I'm saintlike." you heard George whisper and you looked at him questioningly but he was looking across the room to his brother. Fred looked concerned and dropped down next to you, a hand going to your back.

"What's wrong with him? Is his mind affected?" Fred asked his mother worriedly. You were also looking to Molly for reassurance but she looked just as concerned as you.

"Saintlike. You see...I'm holy." George spoke again and all attention was on him. "Holey, Fred. D'you get it?" The relief that you felt was overwhelming and you laughed deeply before burying your face once again into the chest of the man you loved.

"Pathetic. Pathetic! With the whole world of ear related humor before you, you go for 'holey'?" Fred laughed with you, his voice cracking with emotion and the tears streaming down your face were now happy ones. You were so thankful that the man you loved was okay and unchanged besides the trauma he would likely carry. And of course that he only had one ear.

The rest of the night would go by in a blur. You were debriefed by Remus who tried to be as gentle as possible in his questioning. You did not leave George's side and neither did most of the Weasley's. However hours later you still hadn't moved or eaten, too scared to leave George. Enough time had passed that everyone told you George was out of the woods and most people had gone to bed. You couldn't leave though. Molly walked toward you, a plate full of food with her. George was asleep and you were staring at him fearfully, making sure that his chest was moving with life.

"You need to eat, dear." Molly whispered and you sniffed a bit.

"I cant." Was all you could say and she sat next to you.

"Well either you need to eat or I will wake George up so he can make you." At this you looked at her. She had unshed tears in her eyes and you suddenly tackled her in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Molly." You whispered into her neck where she was holding you.

"What on earth are you sorry for?" She asked.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect him and that I wasn't here to help when he got here. I'm sorry I didn't convince him not to go. I'm sorry-"

"Hey, stop." She asserted and you did, pulling back to look at her. "Now you know why you went. George went for the same reason. You were both very brave and it could have been either of you who got hurt out there. Now you are both alive and okay and so are the rest of my children. I will be thankful for the rest of my life for that. But I still seem to have a kid who isn't taken care of and I need to make sure that she is. So will you please take a breath-" she paused to wait for you to take a deep breath, which you did, "and eat something. Or else I fear my son may have a heart attack when he wakes up. Okay?" she questioned and you sniffled and wiped your nose.

Making one last glance at the movement of George's chest before looking to Molly and nodding. She handed you the tray of food that instantly comforted you and she sat with you while you ate. You were both silent but you were thankful she was there to watch over George while you were distracted. When you were finished she took your plate and stood.

"Now I am going to get some rest. You should consider doing the same." She whispered and patted your hair. You watched her walk to her room and you looked back to the man in front of you.

You weren't sure how long you were sitting there but by the time you came out of your trance to a hand touching your face the fire was nearly out. You looked up at George and he looked sad.

"Are you okay, baby? Do you need anything?" You started to stand up, worried he was uncomfortable. He pulled you down on top of him on the couch and you squirmed, worried you would hurt him.

"Honey, I need you t' stop moving and let me hold you please." He sounded serious so you stopped trying to get off of him. Instead you sighed and moved to straddle his hips and then lay the rest of your body on top of him, your head going to his chest. "Thank you." he whispered. You lifted your head to look at him and he had tears in his eyes.

"Are you in pain, bubs?" you tried to be quiet so you wouldn't disturb the peace in the room.

"No. I'm just glad you're okay." He whispered and a tear fell. You reached up to brush it off and you smiled at him.

"Of course I am, you're the one who got hit by a spell." You reassured but he shook his head.

"You're right that I'm the one that got hit by a spell but Voldemort tried to kill you. You could have died tonight, Y/N." He seemed so sad but you didn't know how to comfort him. You hadn't really thought about it since you got to the burrow, too focused on George. You had yet to really process the fact that Moody had died to save you and without his sacrifice you would not be here with your boyfriend.

"I didn't though. I'm okay." You moved up a bit to kiss the cheek on the side furthest from his injury. "We are both okay." You put your head in his neck and sighed deeply. He took a deep breath into your hair and wrapped his arms around your back.

"We are never doing that again." He grumbled and you chuckled.

"Really? I was planning on taking some polyjuice tomorrow, maybe having another go at it." You smiled and he rolled his eyes.

"I thought I was supposed to be the comedian."

"Not when your last joke was 'holey'. Your comedian title has been revoked."

"Oh shut it, I'd just taken a curse to the head, give a guy a break." He smiled but you both stopped and the smiles dropped while remembering the reality of the situation. "How long have you been up watching me?" he asked gently and you sighed, preparing for your scolding.

"Probably 6 hours or so."

"SIX HOURS? You haven't slept since you got back? Darling you need to go to bed, why on earth did you stay up that long?" he practically screeched and you shushed him as best you could so he wouldn't wake the whole house. You didn't answer his question, instead looking at his chest. "Y/N why wont you sleep?" He asked again, this time more seriously. You felt tears come to your eyes.

"I couldn't-I had to-" you were cut off by your own tears.

"Hey, bubs, whats wrong? I'm sorry, didn't mean t' upset you, bunny." You shook your head at the thought that he had made you cry.

"I was just worried that-" You paused to take a breath, "I thought if I went to bed I might wake up and you wouldn't be..." You felt him shush into your hair. He hadn't really thought about it that way and he felt bad for keeping you up like that.

"Bunny, I am fine. I pinky promise." He pulled away to do just that. As your pinkies were interlocked he made decisive eye contact with you. "I promise nothing bad is gonna happen to me if you sleep, okay?" You nodded a bit and he leaned in to kiss you. "How about we both go to sleep and you can stay right on top of me so you can be with me if anything happens." He mumbles against your lips and you nodded again. He pulled you snuggly into him and put a hand on the back of your head to hold you there.

"I love you." You whispered into his chest, not even necessarily trying to get him to hear.

"I love you too, bunny. Now you need to shush and get some sleep." You huffed and finally settled into him. He couldn't sleep for much of the time you did, he could never admit it but he was quite scared as well. He shared your fears. He was worried he would wake up and you would no longer be with him. He got bits of sleep now and then but he couldn't sleep through the night. You stayed asleep on top of him until he saw the sun come up. He knew you were vaguely awake as your breathing wasn't as slow and you curled into him tighter.

"M' gonna get up to make us some tea, yeah?" You nodded slightly and he took that as an okay to get up. He picked you up gently and brought you to sit on the counter in the kitchen. His head didn't seem to hurt at all which surprised him a bit but he knew his mother was a gifted healer and she worked her magic on him to make sure he would feel okay the next day. He tried to step away from you to make some tea but you did not release him. Instead he was trapped standing in front of the counter, you clinging to him tightly. It was at that moment that the other twin decided to come into the kitchen.

"How's the hole?" He nudged George with his elbow and he chuckled.

"Not bad at all, don't even really have a headache." He muttered, still trying to be moderately quiet as you seemed to be in a half asleep state and he knew you needed all of the rest you could get.

"She doing okay?" Fred whispered, nodding toward you.

"Restless night." George replied and Fred nodded in understanding, moving to prep the tea for George seeing as he was trapped at the moment. When the tea was done, George rustled you awake slightly. "Would you like some tea, m'love?" You nodded and moved to sit up a bit, releasing George and catching Fred making gagging noises next to you.

"Oh shove off." You grumbled and he chuckled. You made a move to get off the counter and George grabbed your waist to assist you. As soon as you were on the ground you made your way over to Fred to hug him properly. You were just so relieved that your favorite people made it out of yesterday alive and Fred sighed and hugged back.

"Y/N, this is 3 hugs in 24 hours. I'm starting to worry about your head. There isn't a hole in it is there?" Fred questioned and you rolled your eyes. You lifted your head and turned it to look at the other twin across the kitchen who stood with tea in his hand, gazing at both of you with a calm and content look on his face. You smiled at him before releasing his brother who gave your hair a ruffle as you turned to look up at him.

"Thanks for being okay." You smiled at him and his gaze softened a bit.

"Right back at you."

The rest of the morning was spent drinking tea and talking, thankful just to be alive. As the family woke up there was more relieved exchanges without the shock and stress that had been present the night before. You rarely left George's side besides to let him get changed and have a private talk with his brother. Eventually Ginny dragged you away to get you cleaned up and changed into clothes that weren't covered in blood and grime. As you walked away the boys began to gather around George. Ron looked at the twins expectantly with a glint in his eye.

"Well? Show us then!" He got out a bit excitedly. Harry smiled as well and Bill seemed to have some jitters. George smirked before a ring appeared in his fingers. It was modest but it was all he could afford and he knew it wouldn't make a difference to you anyway. The boys all shoved each other in excitement and Fred clasped a hand on George's shoulder.

"I know you know this already but I just want to remind you that if you hurt her, all of us wouldn't hesitate to beat you to bits." He smiled but there was not so much humor behind his statement. The rest of the boys mumbled in agreement. George gave them all a look.

"Okay, first of all, I nearly died yesterday. I think you could all stand to be a bit nicer to me."

"We all did, get over yourself buddy." Bill joked and George rolled his eyes.

"Second of all, How come I'm the one getting threatened? I'm your brother."He looked around the group.

"'Cause she's the favorite, obviously." Ron stated simply before leaving the group, Harry and Bill following him, both giving George a teasing smile before they left.

"I think that was rather rude." George grumbled, though there was no malice behind it. He looked over at his twin who simply shrugged and patted him on the back.

"Just the way it is. If you two were to break up, I'm pretty sure she's the one who stays in the family." Fred winked before heading out of the room as well and George took a second to look at the ring in his hand. He heard footsteps and quickly shoved it into his pocket. You appeared in the doorway, hair matted down with water and in comfy clothes, fuzzy socks adorning your feet.

From the doorway you smiled at George who beamed back at you. You felt around in your pocket for a moment where your hands were shoved and when your hand hit the hidden ring there you let out a breath. You stared at each other for a moment, just content to be near each other without thinking about the war for a moment, warm light filling the room and calm in the air, both planning on later asking the other to spend the rest of your lives together.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp #hp imagines #hp imagine #hp x reader #imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fluff #fluff #angst #weasley #x reader #oops

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

Trick or Treat

The next A Very Bouncey Halloween installment and a belated birthday gift to my darling @veritasrose. Thank you so much for the last year of friendship, I look forward to celebrating with you again. <3 you are much loved.

tw: curses, Geralt is an idiot, competent Jaskier

---

Light flashes through the room and momentarily blinds Jaskier, who stumbles back against Geralt. He mumbles an apology to the ever-sturdy Witcher as he waits for his vision to return and when he blinks clearly for the first time after a few long moments, the bard feels utterly and totally confused by the scene unfolding before him.

The Duke’s grandest ballroom, which had been bustling with excitable party guests only moments ago, is now flooded with ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and monsters of all sorts. A woman with swan’s wings is huddled in one corner, squawking angrily at anyone who tries to draw near. A minotaur stumbles through the center of the dance floor, lowing in frustration as he tries to control his bulky limbs. Two werewolves wrestle for dominance atop the furthest banquet table to their left. As Jaskier takes it all in, he feels Geralt’s hands wrap suddenly around his bicep; the Witcher is clinging to Jaskier fiercely, leaning his not insignificant weight against the bard’s side as his eyes grow round and watery.

“What’s happening?” Geralt finally asks. His tone of voice seems breathy and high, filled with a terror - almost totally foreign to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt fears nothing and yet… “Let’s get away from this dreadful place, please!”

“Aren’t you going to try and solve this problem?” Jaskier asks, glancing at his companion. He gestures at the various monsters roaming freely past the buffet table. “You’re likely the nearest Witcher, after all.”

“I’m no Witcher,” Geralt declares. He splays a hand over the very center of his blue velvet doublet (a nearly perfect imitation of the way Jaskier reacts to a perceived offense). “I am a Count. Witchers are dirty things, not meant for such a public life as my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, now is not the time for a prank of this nature,” Jaskier huffs. “Something is clearly going on here. We need to help these people!”

“I know something is wrong,” Geralt sniffles - fucking sniffles - and squeezes the bard’s upper arm even more tightly. The sound of Geralt crying shakes Jaskier into understanding, even as Geralt begs: “But I don’t know how to help! Please get me out of here, Milord, I’m scared.”

Milord? Jaskier mouths to himself, even as he wraps one comforting arm around Geralt’s waist and ushers him away from the growing chaos at the center of the ballroom. Jaskier hurries them down one suspiciously empty hallway after another until he reaches the small suite that he had accepted as payment for his performance at the party. Jaskier ushers Geralt inside and locks the heavy oak door behind them.

“My Lord Geralt,” he gets the not-quite-Witcher’s attention. “Do you mind taking a seat by the fire for now? I’ll be right with you as soon as the room is secure, and then we can figure out what’s going on and what to do from here.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nods. He hurries to comply with Jaskier’s request, to the bard’s continuing shock and awe, and stays still and quiet as Jaskier removes his doublet and rolls up his sleeves. Using the strength he’s spent twelve years at Geralt’s side developing, Jaskier shoves a bookcase, a dresser, and an unfortunately designed roll-top desk in front of the locked doors for added protection.

Moving behind Geralt with practiced efficiency, Jaskier also closes, shutters, and locks every window in the room, pulling the curtains closed to keep any light from spilling out and alerting stray creatures of their presence.

When he’s finished locking down all of their room’s possible entrances and breathing hard from exertion, Jaskier tugs the Witcher’s xenovox from his bag and flips it open, waiting with bated breath until Yennefer’s irritated voice snaps: “What do you want, Geralt?”

“Who is that?!” Geralt cries from his place near the fire. He has a white-knuckle grip on the overstuffed armchair he’s perched in and his clothing is mussed; Jaskier motions for him to be quiet and Geralt bites his lip, worrying the soft pink skin between his unusually dull canines.

“Was that Geralt?” Yennefer asks. "Did Jaskier summon me?"

“Yes and yes,” Jaskier replies. “I think he’s been cursed or enchanted or something. I was hired to play at the Duke of Rinde’s All Hallow’s Eve celebration and Geralt accompanied me - even dressed up for the occasion - but something happened at the party and now he’s acting strangely. I don’t know what to do.”

"What's happening?" Yennefer prods.

"Geralt is acting rather out of sorts. He’s speaking strangely, he wanted to flee the party rather than investigate the source of the changes-”

“What changes?”

“Everyone sort of… Well, a good portion of the party guests suddenly transformed into their costumes,” Jaskier explains, his speech stunted by his disbelief. “I know it sounds incredible, and it was! One moment we were all enjoying the music and the next… there was a minotaur and a mermaid and a faun… Geralt went nearly mute and started clinging to my arm like some sort of aristocratic maiden!”

“Oh shit,” Yen groans.

“Who is that?” Geralt repeats. Jaskier continues to ignore his companion. He knows that the moment he turns his attention to caring for Geralt, he won’t be able to tear it away again, and he needs to finish this conversation with Yennefer first.

“Why are you swearing?” he asks the sorceress. “What is it?”

“Geralt asked me for advice about this stupid ball a few days ago, while you were busy making arrangements with the Duke. He wanted to impress you with his All Hallow’s Eve costume and prove that he could be just as fancy and well-mannered as all the other men of your status.”

“Why in the world would Geralt want to dress up and act like a nobleman? It makes no sense! He detests small talk, he hates vanity, and he finds most men of my station to be cowardly and overly delicate - myself included! I just- I don’t quite understand why he’d go through all of this just to impress me. Or why he thinks this kind of thing would be impressive in the first place.”

“Jaskier, please tell me that you aren’t as stupid as our mutually beloved Witcher…”

Jaskier considers for a moment, pondering the things that he does to impress Geralt: gathering wood, learning to cook with game meat, preparing the Witcher’s potion ingredients while he's out on hunts, organizing their packs when they're spiking camp, brushing Roach’s mane… Realization dawns suddenly and all at once. He has a moment of pure understanding, a moment much beloved by every poet, bard, and playwright across the Continent: “Oh.”

Yennefer gives a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“So he’s stuck as… a noble?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “I’ll portal you to my location and we can figure things out in peace. Get your things together, I’ll open it up in precisely five minutes.”

“What’s happening!?” Geralt demands. Jaskier pulls the Witcher/Count to his feet and bows shallowly.

“I am Jaskier Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I will be your protector and chaperone for the foreseeable future, Your Lordship,” Jaskier bows shallowly. “I’m going to gather our things together and then we are going to meet up with a very lovely sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Jaskier barely manages to hide his surprise at Geralt’s utter lack of recognition. His memories of Yennefer have also been taken, then.

“She’s a mutual friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

“I would like to think so,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt remains oblivious to the bard’s heartache, even as he curls himself against Jaskier. He tucks his face against Jaskier’s shoulder and sobs quietly. The bard runs his hands comfortingly up and down Geralt’s spine for a long, soothing moment. The smooth, royal-blue velvet tickles his fingertips. “Shh, dear heart. I’ve got you. Everything will be alright, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Geralt whispers.

Just as Jaskier is about to reply, Yennefer’s portal snaps open in the center of the room. Jaskier hands Geralt a set of bags and hauls his own over his shoulder. “Time to go, Your Lordship. Just take one little step…”

---

“Do you know who I am?” Yennefer asks. Geralt shakes his head before burying his face in the back of Jaskier’s shoulder-blade.

“I’m so frightened, Milord.”

Frightened? Milord? Yennefer mouths. Jaskier shrugs nearly imperceptibly and makes a panicked gesture in the Witcher’s general direction.

“I don’t know what to do either!”

“Well, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened at the party before all of… this.”

Jaskier recounts every detail he can remember in the most straightforward way possible, momentarily renouncing his poetic skills in favor of efficiency - for Geralt’s sake, of course, not Yennefer’s. When he's finished he asks: “And you said he did all of this to impress me?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Jaskier repeats his earlier question. Yennefer understands that his meaning is different; Jaskier understands that Geralt is interested in him romantically, but the bard can't seem to get it through his head that Geralt has deemed him worthy. Although, knowing the Witcher, he isn't even sure how to go about doing such a thing in the first place.

"I just... I don’t quite believe you," he adds.

“He loves you,” Yennefer reiterates. "And now he’s stuck like this until the effects of the spell wear off, so I suggest you take his precious Lordship to one of my spare rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both for breakfast, providing the magic is null and void by then.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I hope you enjoy small talk, you bardic bastard.”

Yennefer smirks and disappears from the room in a whirl of black and white silk, the scents of lilac and gooseberry curling through the air in her wake.

Geralt clings to Jaskier’s bicep again as the exhausted bard stands, keeping his larger body pressed against the human’s side as if Jaskier is the one who wields the Witcher’s swords. “So I’m under a spell?”

“Yes, darling.”

“At least I have you here to protect me, Jaskier. You’re so brave and strong; my hero!”

“It’s usually the other way around, dear heart, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, how about we find a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Milord?”

"Alright."

Jaskier moves Geralt's hand so that it's curled around the inside of his elbow, the proper etiquette for a platonic escort, and leads him quickly down the long hallways of Yennefer's sprawling manor house. He chooses the blue-themed bedroom at the back of the East Wing, far from the sorceress' own suite of rooms.

He has to help Geralt change out of his lordly costume, the Witcher-turned-Count fumbling uselessly at the laces and buttons as if he'd never seen a fastening before in his life. Geralt whispers shyly as Jaskier pulls a nightshirt over his head: "Thank you again, Milord Jaskier. I feel as if I can't help but continue indebting myself to you."

"Think nothing of it, dear heart," Jaskier smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I am happy to help you."

Jaskier tucks Geralt into bed before changing into his own nightclothes, tossing his things back into their travel bags as he swaps outfits. He feels Geralt tense up when he sits on the edge of the bed and his eyebrows narrow in concern.

"Are you alright, Geralt?"

"Are you going to share a bed with me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jaskier answers with a question of his own.

"I... I wouldn't mind it if we shared."

Jaskier wishes he had Witcher sight, so he could catch a glimpse of the blush no doubt attempting to stain the Witcher's face. Despite the mutagens, Geralt's face still went pale pink when he encountered a strong emotion. It was adorable. And incredibly rare.

As soon as he pulls the covers over his chest, Geralt glues himself to Jaskier's side, snuggling close. "Feels safer," he says in lieu of explanation.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

"Goodnight."

---

"Fuck," Geralt groans, sitting up in bed. Jaskier sits up beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Milord," he teases.

"Shut up," Geralt groans. Jaskier does get to see him blush this time, and the bard revels in it; he would trade all the gold in the world to see Geralt flush like this. "I can't believe I cried on you!"

"It was rather adorable, actually."

"Hmm."

"Still..." Jaskier reaches out, tentative, and cups Geralt's cheek with his palm. He turns the Witcher's face and locks their gazes together, blue meeting gold. "Still, I think I prefer you as you are. My big, strong Witcher who cares so much about defending the little guy. Willing to step in and help wherever and whenever he can."

Geralt's eyes get a little glassy and he leans forward, pausing and letting Jaskier make the final decision. The bard meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Geralt's without any sense of urgency at all. It's warm and sweet, time fading away as they let their feelings pour through this one simple gesture. When they pull apart again, Geralt gives a surprised, lopsided smile. "Oh."

#geraskier #geraskier fluff #a very bouncey halloween #geraskier first kiss #geraskier and buffy #btvs au #geraskier fluff and silliness #curses #cursed geralt #nobleman geralt #yennefer was there #bamf jaskier #competent jaskier

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Fever Dream

(Written for @sicktember prompt #1 - Fever! I finished it in time for the first but didn't have the energy to edit.)

Angels didn’t get sick, precisely

They didn’t have bodies that were, strictly speaking, physical, and therefore couldn’t harbor any of the illnesses that plagued mankind and other earthly creatures.

An angel could, however, burn through enough of his own grace that his corporation began to malfunction.

He would then, as it were, fall ill.

This happened to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.

A weak constitution was the general explanation; too much time mucking about on the strange old planet, not enough time bathing in the glorious healing light of the celestial sphere.

When he was down on Earth, he was always prying, poking, trying new things, many of which had never been approved, could have any manner of ill effects. He knew he should show some proper restraint, withdraw a bit more from the world, but he couldn’t help himself.

And when he did return to huddle miserably in a recovery ward, waiting for the chills to pass and his temperature to stabilize, Gabriel would always visit, dropping broad hints about the pressures of fieldwork and the under appreciated glory of a solid administrative career. Offering all kinds of advice as to what, exactly, a proper angel would cut out of his life if he wished to better focus on his ordained duties.

And so, when the symptoms next came upon him—muscle aches, irritability, sweat and chills until he didn’t know if he was hot or cold—Aziraphale decided to wait it out on Earth. It would only take a few days to recover and, anyway, he had business to attend to. Important business that could not wait.

“Angel, are you sure you’re alright?” Crowley demanded, a glint of gold just visible between black lenses and furrowed brow.

“Yes, I’m perf—” he turned his head to cough lightly, but an odd spasm came over his throat, transforming it into something deep and hacking that left his ribs aching and his brow dripping with sweat. “…tickety-boo,” he muttered, turning back to his mug.

“Keep it down,” hissed the demon, glancing around the common room of the inn. Perhaps one or two people had glanced over, but nothing out of the ordinary. “People will think you have the plague.” The last two words he barely mouthed.

“My dear fellow, do be serious. I have hardly any symptoms of the plague.” Only the last part sounded more like sybtobs otha blayyyg.

He cleared his throat and tried to sniff, which started a complicated chain reaction that ended with a mouthful of what he hoped was spit.

As Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with alarm, Crowley quickly pulled out a deep red handkerchief, which the angel gratefully spat into. Unsure what to do next, Aziraphale folded it over and offered it back, but Crowley leaned away, face contorted in horror.

“Oh, ah… thank you, then?” He took a quick glance inside and immediately wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the color of what his body had produced.

“Just… just eat your soup,” Crowley muttered, waving a hand at the bowl he’d been toying with until it was hardly above room temperature.

Aziraphale had ordered it thinking a bit of warmth would be lovely, as he’d been shivering fit for midwinter morning. But after one mouthful, he’d found himself sweating, tugging at his collar to relieve some of the heat. Now he could feel the shivers coming on again, but he couldn’t warm it back up. Until the illness passed, any miracles would just make it worse.

“Right,” Crowley said as Aziraphale poked at something that might have been a parsnip. “I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks. Temptations all up and down the continent. Might take the rest of the season. Unless…” Using that lilting voice that suggested a coin flip might be imminent.

“Mmmh.” Aziraphale looked mournfully into his beer, finally hazarding another sip. The taste of hops struck him at the back of the throat and he quickly expelled the rest back into the mug. “Sorry, m’dear. Not this time. I got…” he waved his hand, waiting for the rest of the words. They didn’t appear to be forthcoming. “Things,” he finally said. “In the city. Until at least…” He rubbed his forehead, but it was hard to think when it was so cold. He pulled his heavy coat back on, bundling up.

“Oh, well. Things. Obviously can’t take you away from things.” Aziraphale nodded miserably, trying to focus on his bowl. “Angel, look,” and as Crowley leaned close, there was something new in his voice, something that sounded rather like concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean, there’s nothing… nobody…”

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes feeling… sticky. What was Crowley getting at? He should really be more direct, clever Serpent, it was hard enough to think in all this heat. He struggled out of his coat, dabbing uselessly at the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh for Satan’s—are you cursed?” He hissed the last word even softer than he’d said plague.

“No,” the angel said, resting his head on his hand until his neck recovered enough strength to hold it up again. “M’not. S’just… things!”

In his attempt to gesture with both hands, Aziraphale forgot one was already occupied and very nearly wound up face-first in the soup.

“Azir—!” Crowley rounded the table in an instant, tugging him upright again. “What has come over you?”

“S’rry. People staring? S’not… not… proper.”

“Angel, you’re—you’re burning up!”

“Not. S’cold.” Then an icy hand touched his forehead and cheek, and Aziraphale groaned, trying to pull away.

“What the Heaven is going on?”

“Toldya. Things. Illness. From… from…” he tried to gesture with one arm, but it weighed too much to lift. “Being a… bad angel…”

A heavy sigh. “C’mere, you.” Crowley hauled him to his feet.

Aziraphale was pleased to find he could stand, just that his spinning head and aching limbs made it unpleasant. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go, but there was something solid nearby to lean on and a hand on his waist, guiding him forward.

It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he realized something wasn’t right. “Crowley! This is—we—we can’t—where—what are you—”

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Aziraphale squinted dimly towards the upper floor. “Yes…?”

“Yes. And you, Angel, are in need of a bed.”

But.

But it was improper! Scandalous, even, talking of rooms, and beds, or rooms andbeds, or any combination thereof, particularly in the singular form. What if someone saw? An angel and a demon, bad enough, but two allegedly respectable gentlemen?

Or, wait, was one of them currently presenting as a woman? Likely not Aziraphale, though he sometimes lost track, but Crowley, well, that could also be hard to tell, but he seemed to have a good amount of jewelry and no facial hair, so there was a chance.

Still, male or female, angel or human, there would be rumor, gossip, talk about the town! It would get back to Heaven! This was worse than being thought weak and improper, Gabriel would think him some sort of reprobate!

Crowley paused, one hand on a door. “This is me. Um. I’ll go back down if it makes you feel better.”

What? And have all the rumor with none of the satisfaction? The shame of spending a night in a demon’s bed without the pleasures—oh, he knew what Crowley got up to. One of the Seven Sins that was, and Aziraphale would not be tempted into joining. No, not he!

“Right. Nh. Going to help you out of some of these layers, then I’ll go.”

Go? Go?After Aziraphale had come all this way, come so very close? No, he’d spent centuries imagining how it would be, and he’d never be truly satisfied until he had a reality to compare it to. Aziraphale very much wanted to know what Crowley looked like while he slept.

Yes, Crowley, Sloth is one of the Seven Sins, a demon should know these things.

And while Aziraphale had the general idea clear enough, he still had questions. Did Crowley snore, or did he breathe softly? He certainly would sleep on his side, curled up, but how heavy would his head be, pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest? If they talked, would his words become slurred as he drifted off, or would he listen quietly while Aziraphale spoke, running his fingers through bright red hair?

Come to that, how did his hair feel, or his cheek, or his lips? Aziraphale hadn’t thought much about lips, generally, but now that Crowley was always hiding his eyes, well, they had become the focus of his face, and that presented fascinating possibilities, ones that Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve of, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. And really, what was a harmless little experiment between—

Oh, good Lord, was Aziraphale talking out loud?

He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

But Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder; in only his undershirt, he could feel it so clearly—ice cold, but not unpleasantly so. “Your secrets are safe, Angel. Lay down.”

Too embarrassed to object, Aziraphale crawled into the bed and let Crowley pull a blanket over him. “Keep that on, yeah?”

“S’hot,” the angel whined. His voice sounded very odd, slurred, weak. Perhaps that meant Crowley hadn’t understood his rambling before.

“I know. Just try.” Something cool and damp wiped his face and Aziraphale sighed with relief. “Has this happened before?”

“Mmmh. Over an’over an’over.” In Heaven, they would assign him a recovery room, to sit alone and reflect on what he’d done to earn himself the illness, on what he could do to better serve in the future. Gabriel always had good suggestions.

The being alone. That was the worst part. Hated that.

Crowley was talking. Something would be right there, beside the bed. That was probably important, but the angel was already asleep.

In Aziraphale’s dream, Gabriel told him over and over that he’d failed again, that this was his own fault, that he was a terrible angel who didn’t deserve… something.

Possibly anything.Again and again, the Archangel took everything he valued—his books, his sweets, his day at the theater, the beauty of the sunrise, the way humans smiled at each other after many days apart, and something else, something far more important, but the name was forbidden—

Again, something cool pressed to his forehead, his chest. Fingers raked through his hair, helping the sweat to evaporate. “See?” A voice murmured. “Better already.” But everything was getting grey and distant again.

Now Aziraphale was in a room, an enormous room, empty but somehow still cluttered. All the things he loved were here, hidden, and Gabriel ordered him to find them all or they’d be destroyed. He searched frantically, among endless piles of brown packages, and found most of them—books and smiles and sunrises—mixed in with kettles, mittens and (for some reason) cat whiskers. But the last thing, the final thing, the important thing was still missing, and the room grew hotter and hotter—

“Try this now.” Something supported Aziraphale’s back as he sat up, leaning against… a thing… a thing that meant warmth and safety. A mug pressed to his lips. He wasn’t sure what he drank, but it felt good. “Now let’s get you settled again.”

He didn’t go down easily, though, reaching and writhing, somehow grasping the safe thing, pulling it close. If he let it get away, Gabriel would destroy it.

“I see. Alright. You stay there.” Fingers through his hair again, more resting lightly on his shoulder. “I got you. Nothing’s going to—”

Reality tumbled away and he was falling, possibly Falling, the voices of Gabriel and Michael and Uriel all around him, insulting him, taunting him, asking him why he hadn’t filed form HX-3 in triplicate. He clung desperately to the thing he needed as the temperature rose, more voices joining in, every voice. The Hellfire licked at him, even as he trembled and shook uncontrollably. This was the end, he would die here, he’d never said—

“Crowley!” He called, desperate. “Crowley don’t—don’t leave me!”

The thing he held shifted, and now there were arms wrapped around him, protecting him. “There we are. Not going to leave.”

It was too hot to bear, but still he burrowed closer. “Crowley, please. I can’t—I—I need you!”

“Not going anywhere, Angel. Not ever.”

“Crowley!” The Hellfire burst within him, a flash of heat up and down his body, his limbs, his soul—

And then he was… exhausted.

The shaking faded, the heat and cold gone, though he still found himself covered in sweat. Nothing remained but a strange sense of calm.

Still clinging to his lifeline, Aziraphale drifted off into a proper restful sleep.

He opened his eyes to find the late evening sun slanting through an open window. The blanket was largely twisted around his legs and the bed below him was oddly hard and lumpy, even if it was nice—

“You’re looking better.”

Aziraphale scrambled up in horror to find that the thing he’d been laying on—clinging to for dear life—was six feet of rumpled, uncomfortable-looking demon. A demon he vaguely recalled saying some very revealing things to…

“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s face burned again, but not from fever. He covered, his eyes turning away. “Crowley—you—you—how—”

“Gah! M’sorry!” He heard Crowley push himself upright, sliding away. “I—I—I shouldn’t have—didn’t mean—”

No of course not. It wasn’t as though Crowley shared his strange desires, his secret obsessions, his awful curiosity. Crowley was a—a perfectly normal demon who would have no interest in prolonged contact, particularly with a most clingy, damaged angel…

“What must you think of me?” he moaned.

“Stupid, stupid demon,” Crowley grumbled. “I saw you panicking but I didn’t know—shouldn’t have assumed—”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Crossed a line, and—and now look—”

“I’m a terrible, foolish, needy…”

“Didn’t want to take advantage—I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry! Wait…” That wasn’t right. Aziraphale cautiously lowered his hands to see Crowley sitting frozen with the glasses halfway to his face. “You’re sorry?”

“Mnh. Yeah. Cuz… cuz I’m the one who…” his eyes dropped. “You seemed upset. Scared. I just… I made it worse, didn’t I? Shoulda known you wouldn’t want…”

“But…” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to recall anything clearly. “I… I seem to remember… propositioning you. Repeatedly.”

Crowley’s face turned red, but he smiled. Not his confident swaggering smirk, but something awkward and genuine that Aziraphale hadn’t seen since Eden. “Not… repeatedly. N’I’d hardly call it… besides it was… you know. But!” His fingers twisted on the metal frames of his glasses. “But, look—I don’t—you aren’t responsible for—for the things you say when you’re sick, ‘specially things you don’t mean—and I—s’my responsibility not to—” He ducked his head even further. “Just wanted to help. Shouldn’t have assumed… that you meant… what I wanted…”

“What…” Aziraphale reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “What you want?”

“Um.” Golden eyes flicked up. “You’re… not the only one who wondered about… the sleeping stuff. Who doesn’t like to be… alone.” He cleared his throat. “Or, at least, I thought—”

“I believe I told you I needed you.” His hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder. “I meant that. Precisely the way you took it. I—I meant most of it.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked, very slowly.

And the next moment, they were swept into each other’s arms, Aziraphale once again clinging to his friend like a lifeline. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he managed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale pressed closer. “Thank you for staying.”

When they broke apart, Crowley was as bright red as Aziraphale had felt at the height of his fever, glasses back in place, staring fixedly at his own legs. “So. Mmmmh. Now what?”

Aziraphale considered that question more carefully than he’d ever considered anything.

“I think… I’m recovering…”

“S’good.” Crowley shifted as if to stand.

“…but still very tired. I should probably rest another night?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. Do you—I can go?”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” His heart started to fall, until Crowley shrugged.

“I do, but… not urgently.”

“If you have the time there’s… there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Well. Big fan of knowledge, me.”

Aziraphale carefully lay down again, keeping his arms wide. A moment later, Crowley took a deep breath, set aside his glasses and joined him.

It turned out that Crowley’s head on his chest was the perfect weight. That he did indeed curl up, though in the most convoluted ways. That in his sleep, Crowley’s breaths were gentle and soft, much like his hair, and he tried very much to keep talking on the edge of consciousness even when he didn’t have much to say.

As for the kissing, well—certain observations did not need to be made public.

(AO3 link later today...)

#good omens #good omens fanfic #sicktember #ineffable husbands #hurt comfort #sick aziraphale #cuddles #fever #protective crowley #soft crowley #there was only one bed #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale and crowley #my writing #prompt challenge

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader Rating: T for language and blood + references to violence Warning: Lil bit of kisses with dubious consent (initial surprise, then “hmm this is nice, I guess”), as well as a tiny bit of blood. Oh, and, ya know, mild referenced cannibalism. Notes: Still no beta reader, we die like innocent chickens unfortunate enough to be in Ethan Winters’ way. Also, I’m hoping this isn’t too ramble-y, I kinda. Got excited. Maybe sorta stayed up late to write this instead of sleeping, so... PS sorry for the cliffhanger, I could not resist. Next chapter will include the reader earning their PHD in Bullshittery, while also moving us into the, like, actual central plot of Serenade (or at least the part that the romance revolves around). Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne

Chapter 2: Overture

By the time you made it back to the maidens' quarters, it was nearly half an hour after your "shift" officially ended. Daniela hadn't taken up that much of your time, but her words had instilled a vigorous sense of anxiety in you, which had only drawn out your remaining tasks. You also weren't terribly looking forward to being interrogated by your coworkers. What would you even say? "Oh yeah, I accidentally played a note on the forbidden piano but instead of killing me, Lady Daniela just flirted with me and let me go! Haha smiley face emoji!"

Yeah, that would definitely go over great with the others. Maybe you could get away with pretending you hadn't been the one to play? Even though, you know, your daily duties were posted on the same wall as everyone else's, and anyone could see that you were the only person working in the music room today. Damnit, you think, everyone is always a bit tense when someone "gets off easy". Not that it happened terribly often. It simply made people nervous, considering they never knew if the Ladies of the house had been denied the "stress relief" they so desired, and whether or not they would want to take it out on someone else.

Hoping things would sail a little smoother this time, you took a deep breath and pushed the door to your quarters open. As soon as you stepped in you felt a dozen pairs of eyes turn your way. There had been muffled talking as you approached, but now it was silent, a heavy curtain of discomfort hanging over the room. Well, fuck, you thought, struggling to think of how to react. In the end you settled with a slightly-too-enthusiastic wave and a shy smile.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” One of the maidens asks, almost instantly, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed with confusion. If you remembered correctly, her name was Cynthia, and she was one of the (currently) longest running survivors. The two of you hadn’t spoken before, which made her next move all the more confusing. Without much of a warning she moved in front of you, reaching out to grab your hands, before gently holding them in front of her chest. When she speaks, it’s with a hushed voice. “How are you not dead right now?”

“I… have absolutely no idea,” you replied, doing what you could to avoid her gaze, but ending up meeting eyes with the others in the room.

“When you didn’t get back with everyone else… we assumed the worst,” Daphne, the closest thing you had to a best friend, said. She was towards the front of the small crowd of maidens, all of whom were now gathering around you out of curiosity. “You’re probably just lucky that Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t home while you played, otherwise, well, I think we can all guess what would have happened.”

“Thank the Mother for that, literally,” Cynthia chimed, dropping your hands as she did. That caught your interest for sure. Despite being part of an eccentric “extended family”, it wasn’t that often that Lady Dimitrescu actually left the castle to visit the other Lords; or their leader, for that matter. Was something big coming? Or was it simply time for a regular check up? You didn’t have time to ponder that thought, as soon Cynthia was speaking again. “Now, please, regale us with your story, dear. It must certainly be interesting… seeing as you escaped unscathed.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, putting your hands up in a “slow down” motion. Sighing, you moved over to your bed, sitting on the edge, before starting to tell the others what happened. You left out a few details, such as the severity of Daniela’s flirting, as well as the way she touched you. By the time you reached the end of your story, the other maidens had settled in a semi circle around you. A few had started to get ready for the day shift while you spoke, but their movements were deliberately slow, and their gasps let you know they were definitely listening. It was, however, difficult to tell how anyone really felt about what you were saying. Were they looking worried because they were concerned for your safety, or for their own?

Hard to say. All you knew at the end of night was that no one was looking forward to the following night.

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

Every shadow in the corner of your eyes makes your heart skip a beat. All day (night, technically) you’ve been overly paranoid, expecting Daniela or one of her sisters to pop out at any moment, their sickles raised, blood-stained lips pulled up into a grin, promises of violence dripping from their mouths. So far your anxiety had proven irrational. Experience, on the other hand, was reverse-reassuring you with memories of maidens you had hardly had time to get to know. Who were you to avoid such a fate? Could playing a little song really justify your existence to these people? These mutants?

Distracting thoughts like that swirled around your mind for hours, leaving you feeling faint and dizzy, as you desperately tried to focus on your work. Ironically, it was your tunnel vision on your worries that brought them to life.

“Humph, you should really pay more attention, sweet thing,” a voice whispers, right besides your ear. Immediately you jump, a little yelp escaping you, and whirl around to see who had crept up on you. Your wide open eyes soon settled on the youngest Dimitrescu daughter. A toothy grin lit up her face as she took you in, leaning in just close enough for you to feel her breath. “Missed me?” She asks, words melting into a fit of giggles. One moment she’s face to face with you, the next she’s evaporating into a swarm of insects, moving around the room with frightening speed before settling on a nearby table. Both her legs dangle off the edge, swinging a little in a childlike manner.

“Lady Daniela, I-” you stutter, hardly able to will yourself to speak. You can’t help but glance at the table with a feeling of anxiety, knowing that you had just finished cleaning it, and wonder if your work would be for naught. But it seems that Daniela doesn’t appreciate you focusing on something other than her. Again she buzzes into a cloud, this time coming closer to you, the insects circling you, occasionally tugging at your skin. Fight or flight tries to kick in, yet all you manage to do is freeze in place.

You don’t open your eyes until the sound of hundreds of wings beating dies down. Fresh drops of blood trickle down your brow, as well a few from smaller cuts on your arms. Panic still roots you in place, even as you stare up at Daniela with a frightened expression. At first all she does is laugh. Loudly, with no softness to it at all. This was exactly the sort of thing that you had been afraid of in the first place.

“Oh, you poor little thing… Did that hurt?” Daniela asks, trailing a hand up your arm, pausing just before her fingers touch blood. Then she leans in, once more putting her lips right next to your ear, slowly pulling off one of her gloves as she does. “Good. Maybe you’ll pay more attention to me now. You really should, being in love with me and all.” She says it so casually, and with such conviction, that you almost wonder if she knew something that you didn’t. Though you try to turn to look at you, you find her gloved hand holding your head in place. The other moves so slowly that you almost don’t notice it until her thumb is sliding across your forehead. Blood smears as she does this, but she doesn’t bother trying to be neat about it.

Instead she simply brings the finger back towards herself, her other hand turning your face as she does, so that you could make eye contact as she licks her thumb clean. As soon as the blood hits her tongue her eyelids flutter and a soft moan rises in her throat. Astoundedly the sound brought a strong blush to your cheeks. It was less about attraction per se, more about the inherently intimate nature of the moment. Daniela was so close, her hand resting on the back of your head, her eyes slowly returning their focus to you. When she sees you she can’t help but don a prideful grin.

“You taste even better than I expected, sweet thing- what a fitting nickname, mhmm?” Another giggle, another rush of blood to your cheeks. In the rush of the moment you found your fear fading out, slowly, gradually being replaced by a mix of confusion and… warmth? What is wrong with me, you think, mind racing with countless half-thoughts.

Suddenly, as quick as the strongest of impulses, you found yourself being pulled closer to Daniela, her bare hand moving to rest on your waist. For once her eyes left your own. Now they drifted lower, to your lips, giving you a single moment to realize her intentions before she acts on them. Your lips collide with hers before you can even think to protest. It’s a million times softer than you would have ever imagined- not that you had imagined. But now that you had felt this… damnit, you know you shouldn’t enjoy it, yet you found yourself kissing back nonetheless. It wasn’t like it meant anything, right? Not like you’d have a chance to kiss anyone else around the castle, either.

Within a couple moments you realize two things: One, Daniela was smiling into the kiss. Two, by Jove (by Miranda?) was she seemingly inexperienced. Based on how much flirting she had done, you had naturally assumed that she was in no way, shape, or form new to this. The kiss was a bit sloppy, although passionate, and Daniela seemed quick to mimic your movements. More than that, it seemed like she was unable to catch her breath (did she even need to breathe? Or were the movements more out of habit than anything else?). By the time she pulls away she needs to gasp, and you’re left absolutely reeling, unsure how to process any of this. On the other hand, Daniela was softly grinning, gently resting her forehead against your own.

“Delectable, darling,” she murmurs. There’s a softness to her voice that you simply cannot fathom is real, at least not entirely so. Then a pause, with her gently running her fingers through your hair, before she gives you one more little peck on the lips. When she pulls away, just far enough to really look at you, you see something in her eyes that fills you with dread: Hunger. “I think I know what you want, what you need. You want to be with me, forever, a part of me, don’t you? They always do, in the end…” Her eyes shift to your neck, and suddenly her grip on you is dangerously tight.

Instantly you shift into panic mode, trying to squirm out of her grasp to no avail. This seems to irritate Daniela, who digs her nails into your waist, making you gasp. Without hesitation she seizes the opportunity to push you against the nearest wall, the hand that had caressed you so gently now pinning you down. Your thoughts are racing, desperately searching for anything that might buy you some time to get away, or even dissuade her entirely. But seconds tick by with nothing coming to light, your hope quickly fading. Gulping, you squeeze your eyes shut, ready to accept your fate.

And then… it hits you. An idea, maybe, that might just be stupid enough to work. Here goes nothing…

“Wait! Don’t you want me to show you my love?” You ask, somehow managing to mask the pure terror you were feeling. Hell, you slipped in a bit of confidence, sounding far, far more sure of yourself than you really were. Apparently it was enough to give Daniela pause. Her teeth had been mere inches from your neck, but now she was watching you closely, head tilted at a slight angle. “I can hardly do that if you kill me so soon, love. Don’t you want to see everything I have to offer? To know me truly, fully, before we become as one?” Another pause, a little hum from Daniela, then a slow, spine-chilling smile.

“Go on, then… show me.”

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #yes every chapter will be named after a musical term #what can I say I gotta put those 8+ years of piano lessons to use #not like I've released two albums or anything #that was sarcasm #anyway please enjoy

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sparktls · 2 years

Text

The Whereabouts of Stolen Love | Bradley SSR Translation

ty anon for the request and ty to my mom for the raws! translation under the cut.

- What He Skillfully Stole (1) -

Bradley: As expected for the wedding of a lord’s son. The food looks real good.

Snow: Hohoho. All in this town are celebrating the arrival of this day.

White: It is all because of your hard work during this mission. Sage, you too should enjoy this to your heart’s content.

Akira: Of course! I think I just might go for all this food first.

We were taking part in the festivities for the Lakeside Town’s lord’s son’s wedding after having completed our mission here.

I excitedly eye some delicious-looking meat dishes. As I reach out to put some on my own plate, a large hand swoops in and takes the entire platter.

Akira: Hey…!

Bradley: If ya’ don’t hurry up, someone else is gonna take it. Oh, this looks like some nice meat - this is worth eating.

Bradley: ‘Ey, Sage. I’ll give ya’ this. And this. And this… Also this.

Akira: (It’s all vegetables that were used as garnish…)

Snow: Hohoho. Bradley is being a good boy today. It fills my heart with joy.

Snow: Bradley dear, since you’re such a good boy today, go bring me those meat dishes.

White: I want the fish!

Bradley: Cut the cute act. I refuse.

Snow & White: Aw, Bradley, so selfish!

Akira: Ahaha, do you want me to get some food for you, Snow, White? …Bradley, behind you!

Bradley: What?

Little Girl: …!

Unable to point it out to him in time, I watch as a little girl runs right into Bradley’s leg. Her shoulders tense as Bradley instantly turns around to look at her.

Bradley: …Whaddya’ want, shorty.

Little Girl: I-I… I’m sorry! …Eek!

She tries to flee as she apologizes, and in her haste to get away, she nearly trips over her own feet. Bradley grabs her arm to keep her stable.

Bradley: That was dangerous, lil’ miss. If ya’ don’t wanna get hurt, look where you’re going.

Little Girl: …T-thank you…

Snow: White, did you see? Her face was so red!

White: I did! Bradley’s a real ladykiller, don’t you think, Sage? He’s even charming little girls!

Akira: Uhm…

Bradley: Shut up, won’t ya? I just know I’d never hear the end of it from ya’ two if I let some kid get hurt.

- What He Skillfully Stole (2) -

After enjoying a great deal of the savory dishes, we made our way to the table loaded with dessert.

Snow: Sage, this mousse is very nice - sweet and sour.

White: Sage. Can you get me the one on top of the third tier?

Akira: Of course, here you go. Bradley, do you want anything?

Akira: Huh, that’s weird. Where’s Bradley…?

Snow: He is over there, drinking by himself.

White: Even though there are so many sweets… What a waste.

Akira: I’ll go talk to him.

—————————

Akira: Bradley. Would you like something sweet?

Bradley: Dark chocolate and dried fruits, huh. You’re pretty thoughtful, aren’t ya’.

Akira: Actually, Snow and White picked it out for me. I don’t know much about what goes with certain drinks and whatnot.

Bradley: Those geezers? They’ll take a sip of booze and start falling asleep.

Akira: They are regulars at Shylock’s bar, though. …Huh?

I see someone sneaking glances at us from the shadows. It was the little girl who had bumped into Bradley.

Akira: That person there, she’s…

Bradley: It’s that lil’ kid from before. She keeps followin’ me.

Bradley: I’ll go talk to her and finish this real quick.

Akira: Huh!? Y-you’re not going to threaten a child, are you?

Ignoring my question, Bradley quickly walks up to the girl.

Bradley: Hey there, lil’ miss.

Little Girl: …!

As I watch the two nervously, Bradley squats down to match the girl’s height.

Bradley: Ya’ wanna tell me something, don’tcha?

Little Girl: Um…

The little girl slowly shows him what she had hiding behind her back.

It was a cute bouquet of wildflowers.

Little Girl: …I wanted to give it to you as thanks for saving me. But the flowers started drooping while I was holding them…

Little Girl: And I couldn’t tie the ribbon right, so it looks bad. So…

Bradley: So what? C’mon, hurry up and tell me.

Little Girl: …But…

Akira: (She doesn’t want to give it to him because the bouquet’s wilted…)

Bradley sighs at the sight of the girl, head stooped as low as her flowers. He snaps his fingers.

- What He Skillfully Stole (3) -

Akira & Little Girl: …!

After Bradley snaps his fingers, the wilted flowers become healthier and stand straight before our very eyes.

By the time the sparkling fragments of magic surrounding the flowers disappear, a fresh bouquet was left in the girl’s hands.

Little Girl: Woah, that’s so cool! You’re so cool!

Bradley: Nothing to be amazed about. Any wizard can do that.

Bradley: Anyways, whatcha’ gonna do with those flowers?

Little Girl: …

Little Girl: Uhm! Thank you for saving me earlier. Please take this as thanks!

Bradley: Sure thing.

Little Girl: Hehe… And, um, I know the flowers aren’t wilted now, but sorry about the ribbon.

Bradley: Don’tcha be thinking that only good quality things are worth anythin’. If ya’ made it for me, then be proud while givin’ it to me.

Bradley: No matter what it is, if I decide it’s treasure, then it’s treasure.

Bradley holds up the bouquet and the girl flushes red and smiles.

Little Girl: Mhm, thank you…!

—————————

Akira: I’m so glad that the little girl was happy in the end! Bradley, you were so cool!

Bradley: Oh, so you’ve finally realized how good of a man I am, huh.

Bradley: I would have taken it even if it was wilted, but there’s no use getting somethin’ from someone who doesn’t want to give ya’ it.

Bradley: Ya’ see, good men don’t deny any act of kindness, whether it be from a woman, man, or animal.

Bradley jerks his chin up and smiles down at me. It’s in no way polite, but it looks cool nonetheless.

Akira: Wow, you’re a heart-stealer, Bradley… You really are a master thief.

Bradley: ‘Course I am! Who do ya’ think you’re talking to? I’m the great Bradley, the best bandit in the world.

Bradley: I’ll steal anything and everything. And…

Akira: Aah!?

Bradley roughly snakes a hand around my back and holds it there. His smile is a paradox - both quiet and bold - and it is as if he’s about to teach me about some bad thing.

Bradley: And if ya’ want to give me treasures, always feel free.

Bradley: But don’t lose your sense of self tryna’ please me.

- Card Episode: Once Every One Hundred Years -

Akira: Bradley, you were the boss of bandits, right? Did you ever have people offer you things?

Bradley: Hmph, if there’s something I want, then I’ll steal it.

Bradley: But in the towns and cities that I was sort of protectin’, there were some people who tried to give me things so I would trade with ‘em.

Akira: Like…

Bradley: Mostly gold, silver, tons o’ treasure. There were some that tried to give me mansions or music from rare instruments, though.

Bradley: …Oh, and there was the flower from the ice tree.

Akira: Flower from the ice tree?

Bradley: It’s a flower in the North that only blooms once every one hundred years. It’s not somethin’ ya’ can get whenever ya’ want.

Bradley: It’s this transparent flower that looks like ice. It’s ridiculously good in booze… I still can’t forget how good it tasted.

Akira: Wow…! It must be really valuable then, if you can only enjoy it once every one hundred years.

Bradley: Oh, I think that it should be ready for harvest this year or somethin’.

Bradley: Hey, Sage, come with me. You’re taggin’ along with me to the Northern Country. Now.

Akira: What?

Bradley: We’re gonna go look around the ice tree. Now that I’ve talked about it, I wanna have some booze with those flowers.

Bradley: If you’re with me, then I won’t need to deal with those twins droning on and on at me. It might be a lil’ dangerous, but I’ll make sure ya’ don’t die.

Akira: Uhm, what do you mean by dangerous…

Bradley: Who knows? We’ll figure it out when we get there. I’ll give ya’ a part of the spoils if ya’ make it back safe.

- Home Screen Voice Line -

If I decide that someone is the only one for me, I’ll offer to ‘em words more precious and valuable than any treasure out there. It’s once-in-a-lifetime, after all.

#mhyk #mahoyaku #promise of wizard #bradley #tl

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monsterfucker-mcgee · 3 years

Text

I love to be the bearer of horny news

I uuhhh wrote a quick lil’ something for Karl Heisenberg and a female reader??

Warnings: Extremely dubious consent / borderline non-con due to drugs, oops :’)))

Can also be found on my AO3, TheWeirdDane, under the name, “Into the Maw of the Wolf”.

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

Being a full-time prisoner was not how you had expected to spend your twenties, less so being a prisoner to Lord Karl Heisenberg of the village. He wasn’t necessarily a bad captor, but you preferred your freedom, like so many others.

He seemed to rarely shower, his grey-black hair always appearing greasy and his barely-more-than-stubble beard always scratched your face when he leaned in to sniff you. Yet, even so close, he didn’t reek, didn’t smell foul. In fact, he barely had any scent whatsoever, save for that of the cigars he always smoked.

“How are you today, my little thing?” came his powerful voice, slithering through the darkness outside the small cell. A warning, some might say, but you were generally well-behaved and had never made an escape attempt.

That was, until now.

You had no idea about the layout of the place he kept you.

Making a break for it could prove successful - or it could prove fatal.

“I’m fine. Not really much to do here,” you replied and did your best to keep calm.

Karl laughed and entered the cell, having to bend forward slightly to fit through the door. In his hands he carried a tray with a plate and a glass. On the plate was some bread - was that mould on the crust? - and in the glass, a clear liquid that was hopefully just plain water.

Upon seeing the glass, you realized how thirsty you were, and Karl had barely sat the tray on the small ‘table’, which was really just a few slabs of rock piled on top of each other, before you reached for it and gulped down the liquid.

It stung all the way down your throat, but you only noticed this when you had emptied the glass, and your eyes widened. You looked up at Karl who grinned menacingly and squatted down in front of you.

“You really shouldn’t drink that quickly, or you’ll feel sick.”

“What... what did you give me?” you whispered and released the glass, letting it fall to the ground where it shattered into a million pieces.

He hummed and leaned in to sniff your cheek and temple, his stubble scratching your skin. He inhaled deeply deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, a pleased sound leaving him.

“Sit down, my dear,” he murmured, but when you didn’t obey him, he shoved you back, and you stumbled over a couple of rocks that eventually made your ass connect with the ground. You hissed in pain.

“I said, sit, thank you.”

Scowling at the man, you noticed how your vision began spinning. Slow at first, but the longer you waited, the faster and harder the world spun. You reached out to put a hand on the wall for support, despite already sitting down, and you breathed faster.

Karl moved close and put a hand on your cheek. As if you were a puppy wanting to receive pets, you leaned your head into his hand, and he snorted.

“What did... what did you give me?” you asked quietly, words already somewhat slurred.

“Nothing long-lasting, I promise.”

“Fuck... fuck you,” you whispered and pushed at his chest. He didn’t budge, but merely laughed, and then he pushed you. Like a drunk, you fell on your back, and Karl was over you in a second.

His hair fell around his face like heavy, grey-black curtains as he straddled your waist, and his gloved hands wandered your chest. They squeezed your breasts, and he tilted his head at the quiet gasp that left you.

“So soft,” he hummed and squeezed tighter, tighter, tighter, until you whined in pain, and he stopped. “And so responsive, too. You’ll feel so good, I bet,” he continued, his voice a low, quiet rumble. “In fact, why don’t you undress for me, sweetheart?”

You weren’t stupid - despite being drugged, you knew what he was up to.

Slowly, you shook your head and tried to buck him off, but he was heavier and stronger than you and effortlessly kept you in place. He even chuckled at your pathetic attempt of getting free.

“No? Do I really have to do all the work around here?” he sighed dramatically and grabbed the hem of your dirty shirt that was long enough to act as a dress, and tore.

The shirt was torn in two so easily that even you could have done it. It was old, worn, and filthy, but it was the only clothes you had down here, and feeling it rip and fall away made you gasp and shudder. You wanted to cover yourself, but Karl squeezed your arms close against your body with his legs, so that would take power you didn’t have.

He looked down at you, his glasses hiding his eyes and the brim of his hat nearly hiding his face.

“A man... removes his hat when... a lady is present,” you mumbled and blinked rapidly in an attempt to get the world back into focus. It was futile.

“Indeed he does, but I see no lady,” he practically growled. “Just a pretty, little play-thing.”

His hands moved from your breasts up over your chest and collarbones and finished their journey upon finding your throat. They stroked gently, almost fondly, and you felt your skin begin to perspire.

Your skin started feeling too tight for your body, or perhaps like your bones grew too big for your skin, and you were desperate to scratch and whine, but your arms were still locked firmly against your sides.

At least you could still whine out your discomfort.

“Now now, I know it might be unpleasant, but shh, wait, my dear, give it time to work.”

His hands, gloved but warm, stayed on your throat and caressed the flesh until the discomfort began dissipating and your body filled with warmth. Gradually, you relaxed and became pliant, even to the point where you didn’t try to push him away when he tryingly moved one leg, freeing your arm.

“There’s a good girl,” he practically purred. “Now, sit up for me so we can get this dirty shirt off.”

Your body felt like you had been fed lead, and you struggled to sit up. Whether he was impatient or genuinely wanted to help, Karl reached under you and pulled until you sat upright, and he watched as you, almost frantically, shucked out of your shirt so you were completely naked before him.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted, and he tilted his head.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Did you get too much?” he mumbled and reached for your face. His fingers tipped your head back so your eyes got caught in the pathetic excuse of a light. You whined at the brightness. “I know, I know, kitten, let me take a look at you, okay?”

Your cheeks burned, but everything was spinning and swimming, and you felt so heavy you were afraid of falling backwards, so your long and slender fingers curled tightly in his dark khaki-green coat.

Karl mumbled something so quietly that it must’ve been for him only, and carefully examined your eyes, pulling your eyelids so your eyeballs were more visible.

“Damn it,” he hissed and let go of your face. He was about to pull back, but, sensing this, you were overpowered by a sense of dread, and you tugged on his coat while another whine escaped you.

“Don’t... don’t leave,” you whispered, surprised to find your voice so swirly and soft, and looked down, embarrassed at suddenly being so needy. Especially for your captor - what the hell had he drugged you with?

Karl chuckled darkly and cupped your face. Before you really knew what was happening - everything was still messed up - you felt his stubble against your lips, and then his mouth on yours. You opened your eyes wider, then slowly closed them when heat surged through you, and you clutched at his coat.

A small, almost timid moan left you, and Karl snorted softly, and his hands shifted so that only his thumbs were on your cheeks, the other fingers on your neck. It pulled a sigh from you, and you opened your eyes a sliver, finding that he was looking at you. It was hard to see in the dim light and with your impaired vision, but his pupils appeared to be dilated.

“Good girl,” he rumbled and slowly pushed you to lie on your back. You obeyed without a fuss, but when it looked like he was about to pull away, you whimpered and tugged on his coat again.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I won’t leave you,” he promised and stroked a finger from your lips, down over your chin and chest, before he shuffled back enough to spread your legs. The air fanning over your cunt was like a bucket of cold water to the face, and you gasped loudly before trying to close your legs again.

He tut-tutted at you and gave your thigh a light slap, after which he ran a finger between your folds.

The touch was firm and strong, and it sent sparks through you, making you gasp again and clench your hands into fists.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he rumbled, and although you couldn’t see him - you had closed your eyes to the swimming and spinning of everything - you had a feeling he was watching you. He stroked you again, pulling a whimper from you; a whimper that stretched into a shaky moan when he slipped the finger inside you and, without warning, began thrusting.

Just like the initial touch, the thrusts were firm and came quickly, and it didn’t take long before your breathing was tattered and in rags. Your hands were fists, and when he moved his finger in a particularly good way, you weakly banged them against the floor as a cry escaped you.

“Don’t be shy, pet. Down here, you can be as loud as you want,” he practically purred, and then he inserted another finger, and the thrusts increased in power and pace.

Now gasping and panting and moaning for your life, you reached a clumsy hand out to grab hold of him, and you found his arm, and you squeezed it tightly as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. They were thick and gloved, and the seams of the gloves scratched against your insides, but... it was good. It didn’t hurt like it should, instead made it feel rougher, more brutal, and, as it turned out, you were all about that.

“Please,” you whispered and craned your neck, staring back into the wall behind you, when he had to use a bit of force to shove in a third finger. “Please, don’t--- don’t stop...”

“Oh, I don’t intend to. I’ll keep going until you beg me to stop.”

“Will--- will you stop then?”

“Not a chance.”

You don’t know what had come over you that had you whining for more - it was sure to be the drug, whatever it had been. Karl Heisenberg was greasy and nasty, and if he stooped low enough to drug you, then he was anything but a pleasant man.

Yet, when he removed the belt from his pants, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would perhaps smack you with it. If he would wind it around your neck and pull until you were gasping for air. If he would tie your hands together to restrict your movement.

You couldn’t tell if it was the drug talking, or if the drug had simply eliminated the barriers that had been there, meaning you had always dreamed of those things - and frankly, that scared you.

Karl wound the belt around his hand and pulled down his pants. At the rustling of fabric, you lifted your head, eyes wide, and stared at him. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his cock, even though only half-hard, was huge.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked with a smug smile and took it in hand, stroking it slowly and groaning with each stroke.

You couldn’t help but nod, and before you knew of it, you sat up, and your mouth watered so much that it spilled over your lips.

“Do you mind giving me a hand? Or, heh, a mouth?” he grinned.

He didn’t wait for an answer before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you forward, pushing his cock in your face. You moaned and tried to lick him, but then he pulled you back by the hair, and although it hurt, it didn’t hurt as much as being denied licking and sucking his smelly cock.

You whined and looked up at him. He had removed his sunglasses, and as you gazed into his eyes, he grinned.

“Trust me, kitten,” he murmured and slowly pulled you forward again, smushing his cock against your cheek. A moan escaped you, and you didn’t break eye-contact as he ground himself against your face.

When he first moaned, it sent a shiver down your spine and another whine rolled out of your mouth.

“That’s it, good girl,” he growled repeatedly as his cock twitched and grew hard, and the second he was completely erect, he pulled your mouth against his cock. You didn’t waste any time in opening wide and closing around the tip of his cock.

He was widest just below the head, and only marginally more narrow by the base. Just an inch or two shy of being as wide as a closed fist, it was a struggle to take him in your mouth, but the heat in your belly and chest forced you to do your best, not to mention the hand in your hair.

You gagged, struggled, and squirmed, but he was adamant that he remained in control, and moved his hands to your face to more efficiently control the speed at which you worked.

His cock stretched your lips as wide as they could, and a bit more, it felt like, and he growled loudly as he fucked your face. He tasted bitter and salty, and now that he was exposed as well, he reeked, enough that your eyes watered - although that could be from the gagging as well - but you found that it only fueled your lust.

You realized, after a minute or two of struggling to suck him off, that your thighs were sticky with your own juices, and you whined weakly.

“Does it feel that good, pet?” he asked, his voice rough, and stroked your cheek with a thumb before slapping you. It shocked you, and your eyes widened, yet it set your loins ablaze.

You moaned feebly around his thick girth, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like that? Being slapped?”

Your cheeks answered the question by heating up, almost embarrassingly so, and you didn’t need to moan or whine or whimper to indicate that yes, you did indeed like that very much.

The next slap stung, and tears welled up into your eyes. His thrusts came harder and faster, the tip of his cock pushing down into your throat and making you gag each and every time, and the tears spilled and trailed down your cheeks. He moaned and hissed, and the sounds were deliciously gruff, making you squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes tightly.

“Look at me,” he snarled, and your eyes immediately snapped open to lock on his face. “Good girl,” he then praised and stroked your cheek, and you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth and throat.

A few seconds later, and he pulled out, making you cough and breathe deeply.

“There’s a good pet,” he murmured, and the stroke of your cheek was followed by a sharp slap that rattled the teeth in your skull. You let out a soft sob, but it was out of pleasure and far from pain.

You rubbed your thighs together and breathed hard and fast, and Karl picked up on it like a bloodhound picking up on a scent.

“Lay back for me, doll,” he ordered, and oh, how wonderfully gruff and deep his voice had become!

You obeyed, of course, without making a fuss, and looked up at him as he lowered yourself onto your back. He grinned and licked his lips. Your gaze, less spinning and more normal, fluttered to his cock, glistening with pre-cum and your spit, and you whimpered upon imagining what it would feel like in your cunt.

“Please, hurry,” you whined and spread your legs in invitation. He accepted the invitation and pulled on your legs until his cock pressed against your cunt.

“Are you ready, kitten?” he asked on a growl, but didn’t wait for an answer before he slammed inside you, making you cry out and lean your head back. He groaned and grabbed your thighs to keep you in place as he fucked you.

His pace was quick and merciless, and his cock forced itself deep in you, battering against your cervix with each thrust and making you scream with pain-laced pleasure.

His stench was much greater now as it mixed with sweat, and your eyes watered again, but you couldn’t help but moan and sob in delight as Karl pounded into you, filling you so good.

“What--- what can I call you?” you asked brokenly, and felt your stomach tighten up and fill with heat, and you knew you weren’t many minutes away from reaching euphoria.

“Anything your filthy little heart desires,” he groaned and slammed inside you, faster and faster, and you had a feeling he was close, too.

“Sir,” you gasped, and uttering the word made your heart skip a beat and your cunt clench.

Karl moaned loudly and let your legs fall to the ground to instead lean down on top of you and kiss you. It was messy and sloppy, and there was saliva everywhere, yet you couldn’t remember having been happier or felt better.

“Sir!” you cried out as the knot in your stomach suddenly came undone, and euphoria washed over you while your cunt pulsed and clenched rhythmically.

Karl let out a feral growl and mercilessly fucked you through your orgasm until he, too, reached his climax and spilled inside you with a thunderous roar. As he released himself, the sounds of him slapping against you became slick and wet, and it was equal parts disgusting and delicious. You could feel his cum and your juices drip out of you in a wonderfully filthy combination.

“Sir--- please, don’t stop,” you sobbed and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him like your life depended on it. His stubble scratched you, and it was the most amazing feeling that nearly sent you into your second orgasm.

He only stopped when his cock went flaccid, and then he pulled out with a shaky groan.

Cum and juices oozed out of you, and your fingers twitched in his semi-long, grey-black hair.

When he moved away, you whined pathetically, and in return, he chuckled and planted a kiss on your stomach.

Then he got up from the ground, looped the belt back into the hoops of his pants, zipped up, and picked his sunglasses out of a pocket of his coat.

“The pleasure was all mine, little pet,” he murmured and slapped your thigh gently before moving to the cell door.

You whined again and sat up, looking up at him and only vaguely registering that your vision no longer swam or spun.

“Don’t go, please,” you whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. You need lunch, too, right?” he said with a grin, winked, and exited the cell, locking it behind him and leaving you all alone, with only the rats for company.

When his footsteps receded and eventually disappeared, you curled up on yourself and tried to get some rest.

It was useless - even without the drug, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and you couldn’t wait for him to come back.

#text #not monsterfucking #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #dirty talk #dubious consent #non-con #age difference #light dom/sub tones #reader #reader insert #female reader

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Enamored

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: The day Ron tells you he loves you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: loss of a home, Fred is alive, mild angst, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This fic is inspired by Pretty Boy by The Neighbourhood!

The last traces of summer had rapidly faded as the season changed to autumn, the once warm weather now chilled and brisk. It had been a whirlwind of a year thus far, one that was exceedingly more undesirable than most with the war having transpired. It brought with it a myriad of losses and misfortune for all that had been involved to fight against the Dark Lord.

The most noticeable loss for the Weasley family was the destruction of their family home. It was near ash and ruins but a few months ago, devastating and left in tatters as it no longer stood tall lopsidedly wonderful. While it was life altering and an act of complete and utter cruelty, they remained grateful that each and every member of their tight knit family remained alive and well. That’s what always mattered most to them, what will always matter.

Now that fall has rolled around after three months of hard work and effort put in from you and the beloved family, the Burrow was officially rebuilt. It didn’t house the same memories as it once had, it couldn’t have, but it stood tall and beautifully imperfect once more. It was a home that could only possibly be held up by magic otherwise it just might topple over with the number of floors it had. The pots and pans had scrubbed themselves once more, the chimney puffed out smoke yet again, the home was now bustling with a familiar boisterous energy once again in a way only they could manage to create.

Spending that time with them was time you were grateful to have, though you found yourself to be with Ron more so than anyone else. No matter what the instance may have been, you always seem to seek each other out as if it were a subconscious act. It was a wordless fact seemingly known to just about everyone but the very two people who’d been doing it, but that didn’t come as a surprise to anyone at all.

It’d been three years in the making of watching their lovestruck brother and equally lovestruck best friend pine for each other, of watching you both be so oblivious it was almost painful. Three years of catching him gaze at you with the softest of smiles when you weren’t looking, one so adoring Molly nearly cries every time, and of you doing just the same when his attentions were focused elsewhere. Three years of watching you two brush hands when you walk side by side followed by the promise of blushing cheeks when you realized the electrifying encounter. It had been frustrating years in the making of watching two people they loved so dearly be so blissfully unaware of just how in love they truly were with each other.

They were ready to take matters into their own hands and make it known themselves.

Currently, Mrs. Weasley has assigned both you and Ron the task of stopping by the bakery in town. She’d wanted an assortment of pastries as a part of a way to celebrate the finishing of their new home. She had made more than enough of her own in her newly remodeled kitchen of course, but she had her mind set on blueberry muffins and chocolate chip cookies made from none other than Hazel’s Bakery.

She most certainly did not send the two of you in particular in an effort to get you to spend some alone time. No, definitely not.

“Are you warm enough?” Ron asks as you leave through the front door, stepping out into the brisk weather.

You nod, cheeks staining a soft pink at the gentle caring he had for you, the question falling from his lips like it’d been second nature. Caring for you, being protective of you, it was second nature by that point. He doesn’t believe he could help it even if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Despite the fluttering of your heart you couldn’t help your teasing smile. “Yes. But I suppose it’d be far warmer if we drove there.”

He caught onto your teasing and rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth nonetheless. “Are you ever going to stop teasing me for that, Y/n/n?”

You pretend to give his question some serious thought, puckering your lips as you squint your gaze and tap your finger against your cheek. His laughter broke you from your actions. “No, I don’t think I will, Ronnie.”

Your own laughter was immediate at the scrunch of his nose upon hearing the nickname he loathed so much, more so at the playful narrowing of his blue stare. Maybe he didn’t hate it when it fell from your lips. However, you quickly appeased his obvious displeasure of the name as you brushed the pad of your thumb over his chin, his blushing smile soon to return as he looked at his feet to steady his racing heart. He knew his cheeks had to have matched the leaves on the trees by now. They always had been when in your presence.

You shook your head with a smile as you focused your attention on anywhere but him to avoid worsening the heat in your cheeks. Rather, you focused on the graying of the sky and the way the grass rippled beneath the wind. You listened to the leaves crunching under both your footfalls and the sound they made as the breeze washed over them. For lack of a better word, this time of year had been the most magical, and it seemed as though Ron fit right in with the hues of his hair and equally his attire. Equally his flushed cheeks.

A single wildflower had caught your stare, standing tall amongst the fading green grass. You slowed your stride to bend down and pluck it from the ground, turning to look at Ron who’d now stood paces from you with a curious brow raised.

“What is it?”

You held up the yellow flower, the stem pinched between your fingers as you beamed. In a matter of seconds you ran to him the short distance he was from you, his smile now apparent.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a laugh, one to stave off the way his breath hitched as you leaned up to tuck it within the red hair just above his ear.

It appeared golden amongst the rosy ginger shade and he smiled down at you fondly for a brief moment before shaking his head, not making a move to take it out. You smiled up at him, biting the inside of your cheek to hide just how giddy he’d made you feel in that very moment. You suppose there wasn’t even a reason to feel as such, but that hadn’t mattered; the feeling occurred whenever it so pleased, and it was more often than not it seemed.

You reached the end of the long driveway and took his hand without a second thought, sharing a smile before apparating from the property.

In mere dizzying seconds you had appeared in the ever familiar and unfrequented alleyway, taking a moment to adjust before stepping into foot traffic along with everyone else in the town. It wasn’t as busy as some days it could be, but regardless it was always a fun trip to walk about, it was cozy.

Almost in the very same moment did the two of you realize you’d still been holding hands, releasing the other as you looked your separate ways for just a second. He’d wanted to reach out and hold it once more, to interlock his fingers with yours. He hadn’t really wanted to let go. You risked a glance and he risked his and it wasn’t hard to tell when Ron Weasley has been fighting a smile. Perhaps what was more obvious was the little yellow flower that somehow still remained in his hair. You decided then and there not to mention it.

The denim of your jacket proved to be far less warm than you had thought it to be, or maybe it’d just gotten colder. Either way, as you walked down that sidewalk, you weren’t ready to let Ron know he’d been right in telling you to wear something heavier before you left the house. He always seemed to be right about those kinds of things.

Ron grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking past the bakery, his grin teasing as he held open the green painted door. You were far too distracted by him for your own good.

The smell of coffee and sweets had been instant upon entering, a little bell overhead signaling your entrance into the small yet cozy shop. The showcase had been filled with fresh pastries and baked goods, the line not yet as lengthy it surely would be now that Hazel had switched the sign to ‘open’.

The kind older woman had greeted you as warmly as she did each and every time she’d seen you, making a point to pinch Ron’s cheeks much like his own mother had.

“Hazel! We’ve talked about this,” Ron whines, rubbing his newly reddened cheeks.

“Oh hush, my dear boy,” she says, turning to you. “How do you put up with him?”

You laugh at that, shrugging your shoulders. “I must admit, it is but a wonder indeed, Hazel.”

You look to Ron who’d furrowed his brows at you, lips pursed in faux offense as you smile beamingly up at him. One that dissolved any look to displeasure. One that caused the woman behind the counter to nearly gush about what a wonderful couple you’d be, something that was also very much like his mother.

You placed your order and asked for extra, knowing if you hadn’t that surely Ron would have eaten far too many for Molly not to notice. Though you knew for a fact she’d be able to tell either way. She talked you into staying for just a little bit longer, the promise of hot cocoa far too enticing to turn down as you still felt the shivering effects of the chilly fall weather.

—

“You really thought I’d eat three muffins?” Ron scoffs, mouth full as a few crumbs fall past his lips.

You roll your eyes and shake your head as you walk down the cracked sidewalk, the steaming paper bag clutched in your hand. “You’ve eaten two already.”

“Did I?” He asks, brows furrowed as he halts momentarily to recall it. The genuine shock and confusion painted on his expression had you laughing as you grabbed his hand, tugging him along the walkway before any more passers by all but run into you with looks of annoyance.

“Yes, you did,” you giggle, releasing his hand to link your arm with his once more.

“Well, they’re really good,” he defends as you continue walking. “Really good.”

You look up at him then, a soft smile on your lips as you do so. His cheeks were stained a soft pink from the chilly weather, accentuating the freckles dancing across them and the very bridge of his nose. At the curve of his smile and the dimples that formed when he did just that. Or perhaps it was the near unruly ginger hair that dipped over his forehead and covered his ears; he had yet to get a haircut much to his mother’s dismay. He was starting to resemble his fourth year self, a hair length he’d claimed he hated so very much but you were beginning to think otherwise.

“Are you staring?” He asks a short while later, a more than knowing grin on his lips that sent your stomach into a fit of butterflies and knots.

“You’ve got food on your face, how could I not?” You counter, though the scarlet in your cheeks is far too obvious. It was true, there were crumbs in the corner of his mouth that needed to be swept away, but you were not ready in the slightest to admit your admiring. “Plus you’ve still got that flower in your hair.”

His hand is quick to fly up and pluck it out, looking at the delicate little thing as his cheeks burned once more. So that was what Hazel was talking about. He smiles then with a soft laugh, stopping your stride once more to tuck it behind your ear.

“There, looks much better on you,” he mumbles, smile soft and adoring, one that lingered long after he’d looked away.

“I beg to differ.”

You’d noticed just how gloomy the sky had been, clouds puffy and gray as the breeze intensified just the slightest bit. It wasn’t something you minded, for it was rather scenic amongst the rapidly dwindling buildings the closer you got to the Burrow. You both had decided a walk back would be best given the bag of sweets you now have, not to mention the hot chocolates you each had provided just enough warmth for you to do so.

A sigh left your lips, one of contentment as you walked back in a comfortable silence and you rest your head on his shoulder. Your arm still hooked with his as he slowed his pace for you to keep up with him, and he’d since taken the bag from your hand so you wouldn’t have to carry it. It was the little things that you noticed that others might not; the little things that meant the most to you, that made your heart flutter. Like the way he will always wait for you when something catches your eye in a shop, not an ounce of impatience in him like he may have had with his siblings. Or how he’d save a plate of breakfast for you when you stay at his home because you’d woken up later than his brothers. It left your heart full.

He hadn’t been aware that you’d noticed those kinds of things; he finds he isn’t even aware of it sometimes. Living you had become second nature at this point, it was expressed in nearly everything he did. You were woven into his very heart and hadn’t even known as such. He doesn’t know how he made it quite this far without going absolutely mad, without his heart bursting in his chest every time you look at him the way you do. Every time you smile at him the way you do. It was his hopes that you’d reserved those kinds of looks, those kinds of smiles for just him. It had been his hope that somehow, someway, you had felt the same way.

He knew with all the certainty in the world that he needed to tell you. He doesn’t think he can go another day without telling you as such. He knows he can’t; he loved you from afar for nearly four years. If you don’t feel the same, if it’s all over after his confession, he can take this moment with him. Of your head on his shoulder, of the way you held his hand that day, of the way you looked at him. It needed to be spoken no matter how much it made his hands shake. He almost lost you in that war and he decided he couldn’t risk not telling you.

You reached the familiar stretch of trees lining the vacant road, the breeze having intensified more noticeably. The walk had been quiet save for the chirping of the birds and the crinkle if the bag Ron held, or the crunch of leaves and gravel under your feet. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend your afternoon, especially with the knowledge of the warm meal Molly had been preparing for dinner that night. The whole Weasley family would be there, Harry would be there, Hermione would be there. It was plans that made your stomach flip with excitement.

It wasn’t until then, at the very opening of the near dauntingly long dirt driveway that the rain had started to drizzle steadily. You suppose you expected it at that point, with the puffy gray clouds that rapidly blew over any and all sunlight, it had become more than evident that that would be the case.

You gasped upon the weathers sudden change in plans regardless, the icy downpour taking you by surprise. A jovial laugh soon sounded from your lips as you threw your hands up, looking around as it came down and rolled off the tri-colored leaves. They too fluttered down in a flurry of reds and oranges, and you were certain you’d never seen something quite so beautiful, quite so enchanting.

Spotting a nearby shelter beneath the branches of one of the large trees, you grabbed Ron’s hand, ready to pull him along with you though you quickly noticed he hasn’t budged any more than just a few steps. You turned to him then, rather confused in that moment and the more you stood exposed to the sudden storm the less useful it became to seek shelter from it. None of it seemed to matter as he stood there and gazed at you, ginger hair darkened a few shades as it stuck to his forehead and flushed cheeks. The smile on his face was quite possibly the softest you’d ever seen it be, and it held something different, remarkably different and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Though it seemed to be far too much as he looked away from you momentarily as if to gather himself, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

Everything felt that much more intense in that moment, and he felt as though his breath was caught in his throat as he stood before you. You were confused, that much was clear. You were still holding his hand in yours, still smiling at him with that smile. That had also been very clear. You were doused in the downpour and his heart beat wildly with each passing second, and if he opened and closed his mouth one more time he felt as though he just might look like an absolute fool.

“What are you doing?” You asked, taking a step closer as you look at him quizzically, “We’re just about soaked and you hate the rain—”

“I love you.”

The three words were spoken then, almost unheard against the heavy rain. They were soft and they were true, how could you not have heard them? Yet even though they clearly were, very clearly, it still hadn’t quite registered to you just exactly what he had just said. You couldn’t believe what you had heard.

“What?” You ask, a soft laugh leaving your lips. Not one of mocking, more of giddy surprise.

“I said I love you,” He repeats louder as he swallowed thickly, accompanied by a nervous laugh of his own as he wipes the wet strands of his hair out of his eyes.

The more time that had gone by, no matter how fleeting it made have been, the butterflies in his stomach were relentless. By this point the rain was of no importance, trying to stay dry was of no importance anymore. What was important was the way you grasped his flannel jacket and leaned on your toes, and the way you pressed your lips on his. Or the way you smiled against his lips as he pulled you close to him, as close as possible, dropping the soaked paper bag of pastries to the ground in favor of settling his hand on your cheek and tangling his fingertips in your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet giggle that was threatening to break your moment; maybe it was the sheer loving intensity of it, or the fact that this was real and this was happening. But the way he kissed you, the way your heart beat so loudly you thought he could hear it, that’s what had kept you in that very real moment.

When you parted you hadn’t strayed more than a few inches as you looked up at him, beamed, his smile equally so as the two of you laughed softly. It was one of giddy love, of an unexpected moment of bliss. The feeling that the person you loved so wholly loved you back just as much. It was that kind of laugh.

“I love you,” you say, laughing once more as your foreheads touched in the fond moment. The tip of his nose had been flushed from the cold nipping at his skin, his smile brilliant and adoring and entirely telling of his love. “I love you.”

You kiss him again, soft and quick as you grabbed his hand before you spoke up after a short while to relish in your moment. “We’d better go inside!”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding in agreement even if he was perfectly content to stay there and kiss you. “I think we better.”

You pulled him along the muddy path as he laughed behind you at your antics. The two of you were breathless and soaked and still in a daze from the kiss you’d just shared mere moments ago as you rushed through the door. The look on Molly’s face changed from startled to quizzical as she took note of the sheer nothingness in either of your hands, her lips pursing and her arms crossing.

“Just where are the muffins? And the cookies?”

Ron looks to you with a smile and you the same, laughing softly amongst yourselves at the realization of just where they had been. The sight of your kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks was telling enough of the reasoning such a blunder occurred. Not to mention the way the tips of his fingers still grasped yours. She knew. “We must’ve forgotten.”

He hadn’t broken his gaze from you quite yet as he spoke, far too lovestruck to do so. Far too enamored.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @awritingtree @lupinsclassroom @harrysweasleys @theweasleysredhair @writeroutoftime

#ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley fic

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace” Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment — that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @alinaleksanders @lysandra-tiara @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam @castielspelvis @lanyjoy-13 @firebirdofscythia @illyrianundercover

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

Text

Words: 3800+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: Rimuru-sama had told Benimaru about a tradition from his world called a 'honeymoon'. He thought it was a great idea.

AO3

It had been several months since the night you and Benimaru had become true husband & wife.

After the envoy left, you talked more about things. As expected, there were still a bit of growing pains in forming your relationship from what it once was into what it was now. However, you were making it work.

Benimaru was patient and kind as ever, but unexpectedly different when you were alone together. You hadn’t thought he would be like this. You had only seen him in a ‘formal’ capacity most times, the job of the Commander in Chief of the Jura forces was one that never really rested, or appropriately close when with the rest of your friends. Now though, you got to see another side of him.

He was funny. Playful. Once he let his guard down, he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as you’d originally thought. Actually, he could be quite goofy. His devotion was not only to Rimuru-sama and your people, but also devoted to you. He was always asking how your day was and if things were alright. Making sure you were provided for. Passionate.

You blush as you put away the linens you had folded up from outside. Benimaru had apparently not been kidding when he declared he’d claim your body everyday if he had to to prove it was his. Not that he needed to prove it. You had openly and willingly accepted yourself as his, and he yours. Still, almost every night, he came to you when you laid in bed together to physically profess his love. The man seemed insatiable. Though you weren’t exactly complaining.

You look up from your chores as the devil himself appeared. Coming through the door as if your thoughts had conjured him.

“Benimaru-kun! You’re back early. Did the meeting go well?” The kijin nodded as he removed his sword and sat it in it’s usually place next to the door. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t expect you home so soon, so I haven’t started dinner. I’ll get started now, but it will be a little bit.”

“In a moment [Y/N]. I need to talk to you.”

You pause on your way out the door and back track back over to the table to sit across from your husband. “Rimuru-sama has asked me to go on an ambassador mission in the mountains. To seek an alliance with the Yuki-Oni there.” You blink a little in surprise at the news. Though you were sure Benimaru could handle this, and seemed very pleased at being selected by your lord, you have to wonder about the forethought he put into it. Sending a fire oni to speak with a village of snow oni seemed uncharacteristically irresponsible of your lord.

“Well, I’m happy for you dear. I’m sure your trip will be successful.” Benimaru seemed to beam brighter at being complimented by you. “So I’ll see you in, what, a few days?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with me.” You were taken by surprise again. Had Rimuru-sama asked you to come? “I asked Rimuru-sama about it, and he said he could spare you for the few days.” Benimaru added, as if reading your mind. “It would be a nice chance for you to see places outside of Rimuru City. And Rimuru-sama told me about a tradition in his former world called a ‘honeymoon’. It’s when two newly wedded people go on a trip together shortly after their married to spend time together.”

“But, Benimaru, we’ve been married for more than a short while now?” True, your real married life had only begun a few months ago, but you had been married for over a year now.

“I know. But we didn’t go on one or do anything when we got married. I thought it would be nice.” The usually proud warrior looked down at the hardwood of your table, blushing and rubbing the back of his head in a shy manner. “Plus, I don’t want to go if I have to leave you here. I was serious when I said I never want to be without you by my side.” A declaration he had also made more than once since that night. “I’ll…be lonely without you.”

You put your hand against your mouth, pretending to be in thought. In reality you were trying to hide the goofy grin spreading across your face. How could someone so fierce and intimidating also be so adorable?

“Ok, I’ll go with you.” You finally announce, as if you had thought it over and come to a decision. “It would be nice to see the world a little. And, if Rimuru-sama can spare both of us, I see no reason not to go.”

The red head beamed ecstatically at your reply, then leaned over the table to give you a peck on the cheek. “Excellent! I’ll let Rimuru-sama know and tell Shuna to finish making your cold weather wardrobe!”

“Shuna? Hey wait.” Benimaru stopped in the doorway. “You asked Shuna to make me a cold weather wardrobe before you even asked me? What if I had said no?”

The oni looked at you like the thought had never crossed his mind. Then he grinned again and said ‘well, it all worked out’ in a rush before he left again. Alone, you shook your head. Honestly. What was your husband thinking sometimes?

*****

It took some time to get the preparations set, but soon enough you were ready to travel to the mountains to visit the Yuki-Oni.

“Safe travels, onee-san!” Shuna told you in parting with her usual bright smile.

She had called you that before, but in recent months it sounded more like she meant it. Thinking of you more now as a true ‘big sister’, married to her brother, than an older woman she could depend and rely on. The former was still true, but it was clear in her tone she thought of you more as family.

You depart Rimuru City with everyone’s blessing. Coming to see you off until you were out in the country side and off on your journey.

It took a few days to make it to the Yuki-Oni village. Between the distance and intentionally treacherous path up the mountain, it had taken a bit of time. It hadn’t been all bad. While still down in the valley you had stopped for a picnic once or twice, and laid in a field of flowers you had come upon for a bit to soak up the sun and sweet smell. Benimaru said that this was one of the things that Rimuru-sama told him people did on their ‘honeymoon’. You weren’t sure about that, but it was a much-needed respite from your travels.

Arriving at the village, you were greeted warmly by the ice monsters. They all seemed very demure and polite. A cool sort of air about them that really fit with the cold aesthetic of their homeland. The men were all tall and hard looking, while the women were all beautiful and waif like. Pale alabaster skin, long white hair, piercing blue eyes. You were glad you came with Benimaru now. Not that you thought for a moment he would be unfaithful to you, but you still didn’t like the idea of those beautiful creatures lingering around him.

You were shown to your quarters in the elder’s home before you were to meet with the council of elders. The idea of having to convince a council concerned you. It was harder to persuade a group than one. And the Yuki-jiji all looked like they were a group of men not to be easily swayed. “Maybe I should stay here?” You question as you unpacked your things.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t think the Yuki-jiji appreciate women in their council meeting.” They didn’t even let their own women in. Let alone a human one. The last thing you wanted to do was insult these people, and their traditions, by forcing yourself in to the situation. “It might be best if you just go.”

“Ridiculous.” Benimaru said with a sneer. “We didn’t come all this way for you to sit in a room and be cast out.”

“I thought we came for our ‘honeymoon’?” You said as a joke. Trying to break this awkward tension.

“We came for two things.” He quipped back at you. “I want you to come with me. I want us to go together. I’m…not good at this sort of thing on my own. Rimuru-sama put his faith in me, and I’m grateful for this opportunity, but I think it’s misplaced. I’m much better at forcing an agreement at sword point, not conversation.” The kijin looked away, clearly irritated at himself for not being better at it no matter how hard he tried, before looking back at you. “If you’re there though, you’ll keep me grounded. I find your presence calming. So I’ll be less likely to make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself, whether I’m there or not.” You assure him while placing your hand against his cheek. It hurt your heart to hear him berate himself like this. Rimuru-sama picked him because he was more than just a strong arm at the end of a sword. Why couldn’t he see that? “Alright. I’ll go. I don’t know if it will really help but I’ll try to be supportive. To you and our cause.”

Benimaru smiled. Then tilted his hand to kiss your palm before squeezing it in his hand. “Let’s go then.”

*********

The meeting lasted most of the day, and well into the evening. By the time you both return to your provided quarters, you were both exhausted.

“Rimuru-sama will be happy to hear of our success.”

“I’m sure he will be. Jura seems to be growing by leaps and bounds.” Who would have thought?

“It’s all thanks to you.” Benimaru said as he came up to sit on your right.

“Me?” You remark in surprise. “I didn’t do much of anything?”

“That’s not true.” The oni said with a soft smile, shaking his head. “The way you talk to people. The way you talk about our home, and the virtue it brings. Not just it’s strength. How it’s a place for all. They could see that’s something they want to be apart of. Rimuru-sama was very wise to have you come along. As he always is.”

Your cheeks tint at Benimaru’s words. Such high praise something you never seemed to get used to. No matter how much he or the others lavished you with it, you always felt so awkward to be complimented by people.

“So, the evening is ours now. What shall we do?”

“Well, I was going to take a bath, buuut….” You look over at the provided tub. Not looking warm & inviting like a bath should, but cold & dark like a vat of despair. “I guess the Yuki-Oni aren’t a fan of hot baths.”

“I can heat it up for you.” Benimaru declared. Already activating his powers to do so. “A thing like this is not so hard. I’ll have it warmed up for you in a moment.”

“That’s amazing Benimaru!” You gush at your husband’s resourcefulness. Who knew he could be so handy?

The oni grinned wide. Briming with pride at the praise. He went over to the tub and slipped his hand into it. The water almost instantly steaming at the contact. “There! That should do it.”

“Ahhh…warm bath…” You sigh happily. Moved nearly to the point of tears at the idea of being warm for the first time since you got here.

You move to discretely remove your clothes and get in the bath, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye from Benimaru. The man not moving to leave as you’d anticipated, but undress as well. “What are you doing?”

The red head stopped in removing his undercoat and looked at your curiously. “Taking a bath?” The expression on his face saying ‘didn’t we just have this conversation’.

“Wait a minute! This is my bath! Did you really heat this up to steal my bath from me??”

“What? No! Of course not! I thought we could share.” He looked back to the tub, completely missing the blush and sudden halt in all function from you, as he examined it. “It’s big enough.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to do that here.” You reply nervously. Cheeks still pink as you had a pretty good idea where this would lead.

“Come on. It’s just a bath.” Bemimaru insisted. “Besides, my powers for this work best when I’m in close proximity. If I’m not touching it, the water will just grow cold again.”

You have the sinking suspicion that he was lying to you. But it was a very convincing lie, and one you couldn’t really argue with. “Alright. But behave! We’re here as Rimuru-sama’s ambassadors. We shouldn’t be fooling around while guests in another person’s home.” A person whom you were trying to sway to your cause.

The red head nodded and assured you he meant no funny business. Again, you had the sinking suspicion he was lying to you, but couldn’t actually prove it, so you went along. You both stripped down and get in the tub. The only way you would both fit was if you practically sat in Benimaru’s lap. His back resting against the side of the tub while your back rested against his chest.

“Aaaahhh…” Your ‘chair’ sighed loudly. Feeling his sigh vibrate through your back as he relaxed. “This is great. We should have done this sooner.”

“Agreed.” You reply as you relax too against him. The warm water soaking out all the tired muscles from your journey and tension you had felt before the meeting. Making you complacent.

You both stay like that for a little while. Relaxing in the warm water in complete silence. Until you feel Benimaru’s hand brush against your arm. “What are you doing?” You asked in a drowsy, but mildly suspicious, tone.

“I was going to wash your back for you.” He replied against your ear. Making you shiver. “Can you lean forward for me?”

That nagging suspicion of his intent still clung to the back of your mind, but it was getting pushed further and further back by the warm water and his soft words. Having your back washed did sound nice.

The water slouched around a little as you moved to sit up and lean over the other side of the tub. “Is this ok?” You ask. Looking back over your shoulder from where you had cradled your head in your arms on the rim.

“Yeah….” Benimaru replied in a low voice. Looking at you. “That’s perfect.”

Your husband shifted around carefully, both to not hit you or splash the water out of the tub, as he came up on his knees behind you. The soft, wet sponge touched your back tentatively at first. But once you relaxed and even let out a soft sigh it became more diligent. His hands pressing a little harder with the sponge to give you a dual back wash & massage. It was extremely pleasant. The warm water and his warm hands on your body. So much so that you might moan a little when he came to your lower back.

“Ah…don’t do that to me…” Benimaru said. His voice sounding odd. Pained. It sounded so strange that you opened your eyes a little. You hadn’t realized you closed them. “I’m trying to be good and honorable. But if you moan like that, it gets very hard.” You’re not sure if he meant ‘it’ by the situation in question or the erection you were now feeling brush against your leg. When had that gotten there? You gasp at the feel of him against your thigh, but also the sponge and his hand shifting to your front; just at the top of your breast. “Please [Y/N]. Let me be with you. I can’t stand being without you anymore. It’s been so long.” You want to tell him that it’s only been a few days. But apparently, in ogre time, that was an eternity. He genuinely sounded like he was in agony right now. Not to mention that his hands wouldn’t stop touching you.

You’ll blame the warm water, and being so relaxed, and his damned skillful hands later, but your resolve broke quite easily. “Yes. Yes, I want you too Benimaru.”

You think you hear a happy rush of air level his lips before he moved forward and enveloped you. His broad chest encasing your back as he laid against it. His hands dropping the sponge to make direct, intentional touches with your body. His cock slipping between your legs to brush against your apex in pseudo-love making. You both moan.

He rutted against you like that for a moment. Thrusting against the outside of your opening. The hard lines of his cock brushing against the bundle of nerves at the top, making your insides quake and spasm greedily around nothing. “B-Benimaru….” You whine as you pressed back against him. His torturous touch driving you mad. “Please.”

Your husband groaned a little, low in his throat, before he kissed his mark behind your ear, where he had bitten you that first time, before lifting off to enter you. Being relaxed and the warm water made it easy, but he was as gentle as ever with putting it inside you. There was still a slight stretch with his size, but it’s a feeling you grown not only accustom to but relish. Just having him inside you made you moan wantonly.

“Ah…I keep telling you. Don’t do that to me.” Benimaru replied to your moan. You couldn’t see it with him behind you, but you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. He pulled back and began to thrust, low and slow, into you. “I can’t control myself when you moan like that for me. How am I supposed to keep calm, and quiet, when you make my blood boil like that?”

“I’m…sorry…” You stutter out. Your voice staggered from his deep thrusts and your own labored breath of pleasure. “It just….feels…so good…..!” You moan again when his thrust went deeper this time. Hitting that place inside you that made you see stars.

He couldn’t control himself? What did he expect you to do when he was making love to you like this?

If anything, this was his fault

“Hmmm…this is no good…” You let out a surprised noise as Benimaru pulled out. You look over your shoulder. A little wounded at the comment. Not good? But before you could ask, or get more upset about the comment, Benimaru turned you around so you were facing him. Thrusting back into you in one swift move of your back hitting the tub and knocking all words out of your mouth. “I wanna see your face. It’s no good if I can’t see you and kiss you any time I want.” Then he did just that.

His tongue thrust into your mouth like his cock into your lower half. Swallowing your moans now that were flowing out unabashed. Doing it the other way had been nice, but you have to agree. This way was much better. Being able to kiss him. See his amazing body. Look into his beautiful eyes burning with such passion & love for you was bringing you closer to the edge than ever before.

“B-Beniamru! I…I’m close!”

“Me too.” The oni grunted out. Kissing your ear when you wrap your arms around his neck. “Cum for me my love. Let’s go together.” He always seemed to have a way with words with you, because you did as you were told and came around his cock.

His thrusts continue for a few moments longer, pounding through your orgasm, before they stop and Benimaru shuttered in your arms. A sign that he had finished too. You stay there for a moment. Holding each other loosely in the tub, before the kijin pulled back and looked around you like he just remembered where you were.

“I think we fucked all the water out of the tub.”

Your mouth scrunched up and you pinched Benimaru’s shoulder. “Don’t be vulgar.” He was right though. Now that your brain had resumed function again, you could see that half the water in the tub was gone. The floor soaking wet to the point you had to groan. No way you were going to be able to clean this up or explain this away without attracting attention.

The oni yipped at your pinch before he chuckled, then kissed you softly. He then stood from the tub, wet and naked and proud, before lifting you up out of it as well like a princess and carrying you over to the bed.

“We’ll clean it up later.” He stated, seeming to read your mind once again, as he laid you on the soft futon. “It’ll be alright.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into it.” You grumble. Pretending that you had been seduced, rather than whole heartedly accepting your husband in all aspects, as you dried yourself off. “What will the Yuki-Oni think.”

“That we are too people in love.” He replied quickly and with a smile. “The elders are all men. I’m sure they remember what it’s like to be young and in love, and unable to keep your hands off their young, beautiful wife.”

You blush a little at his words, but don’t really want to think about those old men being happy with their wives. “I suppose it’s a natural thing, but it’s still very rude to have sex in someone else’s house.”

“Maybe for humans. But we oni don’t see it that way.” Benimaru replied. Tossing his towel away. “Besides, Rimuru-sama said that this is something that most newlyweds do on their honeymoon.”

You shook your head as he pulled back the covers to let you both get under them. The room growing cold again now that you weren’t in the warm water, or doing other warm, pleasurable activities.

You snuggle together under the blankets. Watching the fresh snow flutter down outside the window. “Did you really need to be touching the water for your powers to work?” You finally ask.

You don’t know what his answer was going to be. But judging by the way your husband stiffened and balked at the question, you know now that he had been lying to you. “Well….it does work best that way. In theory. But….no….”

He turned away to not look at you. Or the steely stare you leveled at him. “Benimaru. I can’t believe you lied to me.” Sweat drops seemed to start pooling at his forehead as in flinched at your harsh words. Then he let out a startled sound as you flipped over on top of him, forcing him to look up at you with a confused expression. “You’ll have to be punished.”

#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#benimaru #benimaru x reader #benimaru tssk #benimaru (Tensei shitara Slime Datta Ken)#tensei shitara suraimu datta ken #tensei shitara slime datta ken #tensei shitara suraimu datta ken imagine #tensei shitara suraimu x reader #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #random fandom

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miss-bridgerton · 3 years

Text

for real l anthony bridgerton x you l part one

word count: 1,887 words

pairing: anthony bridgerton x you

author’s note: part 1 finally! it’s not much going on, but this is just the beginning.

taglist: @fact-fictionx @alainabooks143 @michael-loves-chickens @misstonybridgerton

summary: Everyone knew that the Viscount was a rake. Except for, apparently, three young women who clung to his every word. Anthony Bridgerton was in fact charming. But he was absolutely terrible at dating three women at once. Some would call him a dunce for doing so. Others might call him a hero. Adelia Byron called him dead when she found out. Set out on revenge, she and the other two young ladies, Bette DuPont and Siena Rosso, decide to transform a lonely bakers girl into someone who can break the heart of the Viscount.

PART 1: THE SOCIETY PAPER THAT CAUSED A SCENE

YOU HAD NO IDEA that a gossip column would be the cause of a brawl in your family’s tea shop and bakery: The Fancy Teapot.

Overly priced earl grey tea? Oh, absolutely.

Chairs that pinched the bottoms of debutantes and their mammas? Pinched bottoms surely caused nasty sneers a plenty.

But the latest gossip from the squares’ paper? You certainly didn’t see that coming.

It was all because of the Viscount. Lord Anthony Bridgerton was indeed charming. He had that smile that they all seemed to fawn over. His hair was swept in all the right places. And he was a British nobleman.

What more could a young lady want?

You rolled your eyes at the words that frequented that paper. What more could a young lady want? Well, for starters, you wanted freedom. You wanted to bake. You wanted to explore different cities. Eat exotic foods. Tell stories to your future nieces and nephews of your adventures. You didn’t care about marriage, no matter how many times your sister-in-law pushed it on to you. You just simply wanted to. . .experience life.

Unlike the young women who frequented The Fancy Teapot. They were all scouring for eligible unmarried men. It was what they were taught. It was all that they knew, really.

And two debutantes who enjoyed sipping tea in The Fancy Teapot had no idea that they were both courting the Viscount. Until it came out on paper, that is.

It was a sunny spring morning and the social season had sprung in London. You loved the social season for the money it brought the tea shop, but you absolutely loathed the social season for the debutantes and their snooty behavior. They were all perfect. Beautiful gowns. Rosy pinched cheeks. The stink of wealth swarmed them like bees attracted to honey.

You had none of those things. You came from a working family. You came from two different countries. Your father had travelled to (a country of your choosing) where he met your mother and they fell in love and married within a week of him being there. Your father had convinced your mother to leave everything behind to be with him in London, but her one condition was to open a tea shop and bakery.

He clung to his part of the condition. Soon after opening the shop, your older brother Jack was born. Five years later, you were born. For a short while, it was the four of you. Kids running through the tea shop, experimenting with teas, you found the love of baking with your mother, and your parents were still so madly in love it was almost embarrassing. Sadly, your mother became ill and passed away two years ago.

The death was stricken. And hard on you. But it was your father that you and Jack worried after, for it was almost as if he became a different person. As if he lost a part of himself when your mother died. He tried to drink his sorrows away at the pubs, and fancied spending too much money on gambles and bets.

That morning, he was nowhere near the tea shop, probably somewhere betting on poker chips, when you had to break apart two debutantes from nearly mauling each other.

Adelia Byron was with her friend, Cressida Cowper, at a small table near the colossal windows. She didn’t say thank you or even acknowledged your existence when you set down her steaming chamomile tea and slice of cornish hevva cake. You rolled your eyes at the way she gloated over the attention she received at the Warwick ball. Adelia was still on a thrill from two nights before, where the touch of the Viscount’s hand on her back as they danced was still on her. She dreamt of his gorgeous eyes. And when she saw the bouquets of roses addressed to her that morning, she was in total bliss.

Her friend, Cressida, was jealous. Adelia knew it. And if there was something Adelia Byron was known for, it was that she enjoyed bragging. Her father was a Baron, which made her quite eligible for marriage to a Viscount. She had elegant features: Dark red hair, stormy eyes, high cheek-bones. She had already received three proposals but Adelia knew what she wanted. Who she wanted.

Simply put, nobody else would do. She was going to marry the Viscount. And God help her and anyone who got in her way.

On the other side of The Fancy Teapot, situated at a round table underneath an elegant painting by your brother Jack, was Elizabeth DuPont and her overbearing mother, Colette. Elizabeth, often called Bette, was the daughter of The Marquess of DuPont. So her marriage to a man of great wealth and a powerful title was extremely vital. To her mother, at least.

Bette was fond of the Viscount. He swept her away with his words, he was impressed with the way she could speak French and German, and the kiss he laid upon her gloved hand sent a thrill through her body. She couldn’t bear to tell her mother that when she went out to the balcony for a quick breath of fresh air during the Warwick Ball, she was accompanied by Lord Anthony Bridgerton.

Her mother would have been furious. She wanted Bette to charm the Prince - not the Viscount. She wanted her daughter to marry a title higher, not a title lower.

You had just set down two tea cups of herbal tea at their table when one of the young newsie boys stopped by the Fancy Teapot to drop off the new Society Paper.

“Hey, Sam,” you greeted the ten year old boy. He often was the one who sauntered in here to deliver the paper and he did it eagerly, knowing fully well that you were going to give him some free wrapped biscuits, like always.

“Y/N!” He greeted with a boyish grin. “What’s on the menu today? I hope it's something drowned in sugar!” He said excitedly.

You laughed and grabbed the box of warm treacle tarts from under the front counter. “It’s not drowned in sugar, but I think you’ll still enjoy them,” you told him.

He grinned widely. “You’re a real magician, Miss Y/L/N!”

You smiled warmly as the little boy went off and you were so busy handing over his desserts that you didn’t even notice, Dorothea, your sister-in-law, completely captivated by the latest Lady Whistledown’s writings.

“Bloody Hell,” she muttered, leaning her back against the counter and reading the paper. A mama and her daughter were standing by the counter, awaiting some assistance and looking very peevish. You sighed at how unobservant Dorothea was.

You took care of the customers and then turned to Dorothea, who looked as if she had acquired the most scandalous news.

“Y/N! Have you read this yet? It’s so scandalous!”

“No,” you replied, though you were a bit curious. “Who is it about?”

“The Viscount.”

“Hard pass,” you replied.

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “You are impossible. It’s not just about him but about the women he’s apparently leading on. And,” she took a moment to look around the tea shop and then in a hushed tone continued, “two of them are in here. Right now. Unaware of all of it!”

Well, surely just a peak at the new Society Paper wouldn’t do any harm. You grabbed the paper and took a look:

At the Warwick ball Thursday evening, Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with not one eligible young lady, but two. Now, I assume you dear readers know quite the reputation of our charming Viscount, as this behavior isn’t quite unusual. If you are familiar with the season’s doings, dancing with eligible suitors is normal.

Except Lord Anthony Bridgerton was seen with Miss Bette DuPont awfully close on the brink of the balcony and also seen later that evening with a certain opera singer, Siena Rosso, nuzzling her neck in a dark corner of the opera house.

How will the ladies take this embarrassment? Well, this author predicts that Miss Bette DuPont will turn a rather shade red and Miss Adelia Byron’s eyes will flash with a colour quite similar. Miss Siena Rosso will probably be locked up in a bedroom with the Viscount to even notice.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS,16 APRIL 1814

Oh, brother, you thought. This better not cause anything stupid in here -

“HOW DARE YOU!!!!”

You and Dorothea looked up in bewilderment at the sudden outburst. And there it was. Lady Adelia Byron, looking absolutely furious, clutching the society paper, and standing over Lady Bette DuPont who was sitting at her table, looking between a mix of surprise and confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Bette said to her appalled.

“You!” Adelia yelled. “You are involved with my suitor! How dare you?! You - you - harlot!”

Bette’s jaw dropped but it was her mother who spoke. “My, I never! That is quite unladylike behavior, young lady. My Elizabeth is not some harlot, clearly you cannot read because you have been thoroughly mistaken.”

Adelia rolled her stormy eyes and handed over the paper. Bette hastily read it before gasping, throwing a pretty gloved hand over her mouth.

“This cannot be true. My Lord would never do such things.” Bette told her.

“My Lord?” Adelia mocked. “He’s not your anything. I am going to marry him. So this little rendezvous is finished.”

Bette raised a brow. “I don’t think so,” she simply replied and took a sip of her tea.

Adelia looked as if she was going to chuck that steaming tea pot at the young lady’s head, so you had no choice - you had to get involved.

“Ladies, please, there is no need to act in such a manner,” you told them. They both looked in your direction, looking at you as if you were just a nobody. As if they were thinking, who the hell are you and who makes you think you have any say in this?

You cleared your throat. “He’s just a man,” you tried to explain.

Adelia snorted. “Idiot,” she said under her breath.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You know, instead of getting mad at each other for something neither of you two were unaware of, you should be mad at him. Instead you are fighting over the tosser. Now that is an idiot.”

Both girls’ jaws dropped at what you said. But both didn’t say anything in retaliation. Instead, Adelia lifted her head high and walked away with what dignity she possessed and Bette went back to her tea, ignoring her mother’s angry stares.

Dorothea was nearly bursting in astonishment and the tea shop, which went quiet during the whole argument, went back to the bustling noise it always had.

All went back to normal. Until later that evening.

While you were cleaning up and closing down The Fancy Teapot for the day, you found a folded napkin at the same table that Adelia Byron sat with Cressida Cowper. Inside was a perfectly scrawled note addressed to you.

Not many people can inspire me, but you, Miss Bakery girl, did. Visit my estate as soon as you can manage. We have a lot to discuss.

X Miss Adelia Byron

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #Anthony bridgerton headcanon #mine #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #bridgerton fanfic

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bella-caecilia · 3 years

Note

Could I possibly request #11 reliability?

Thank you for the prompt <3 I hope I included enough of the colour symbolism. Again, set somewhere in series 1. I hope you enjoy this Cobert fluff!

Brown – Reliability

She pulled his arm closer. Walking like this beside him was much warmer than walking alone or a few feet apart (something they had done very early on for a very short period, and Cora had hated it with all her guts) but it still wasn’t warm enough. It seemed rather impractical to only have the small area of their arms touch and spend each other warmth but this was the best they could do on a walk.

“I can’t believe Sybil will be presented at court next summer,” Cora voiced aloud what had been on her mind all day.

It was a day in October and after the sun had dried the leaves a little after yesterday’s constant drizzle Cora had waited eagerly in the doorway of the library for Robert to finish his correspondence and join her on their walk over the amber-coloured grounds. Robert was rather occupied today so that Cora had a lot of time on hand to ponder about the next season she was planning already. It was nice to have Robert now with her and to talk about what tormented her thoughts.

“But you have started the first preparations weeks ago,” Robert gave back. Their looks were directed at the path in front of them. Cora didn’t turn her head very often because, with the great proximity to her husband she had created, the expansive brim of her hat was precariously close to his neck. Their eyes took in the variety of brown and yellow nature that stretched along the horizon.

“I know,” she sighed. “But don’t you feel like she is still so young, our little girl? Presenting her at court means subsequently marrying her off to a gentleman, a Lord, faraway. This is all happening much too fast,” Cora whispered the last words into the wind, letting them being carried away. But Robert would get them nevertheless.

“Mary’s season was years ago and she still isn’t married. They will stay much longer with us than you think.” They passed by the place to usually take a short break on their walks. The bench under the large tree stayed empty today, though.

Yes, Mary wasn’t married, and Cora knew why it was so hard to find a match for her. They didn’t even speak of Edith. But Sybil, Sybil was a whole other deal.

“Don’t forget that it’s sweet Sybil we are talking about. She will charm every eligible gentleman because opposed to Mary, she is intrinsically kind and so very amiable. She is easy to love.”

“That’s because she is most like you.” Robert’s statement sounded like a corrupting compliment but his tone wasn’t any less serious than throughout their prior talk.

“Sybil has a much stronger will of her own and is much more innovative than me,” Cora commented matter-of-factly.

“Well, it’s not me either from whom she has her innovatively modern streak.” Robert stirred them down a path they didn’t take very often in the warmer months because it avoided all the flower gardens and beds. But that didn’t matter in October.

“Right, and her stubbornness is also nothing she inherited from you,” Cora gave back sarcastically. Robert didn’t respond to this but with a silent snort.

“But she is sweeter in her stubborn demeanour,” Cora added in a low tone. She watched him from the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction to her taunting comment.

“Hmm, yes, I love you too,” he grumbled in response. His elbow nudged her slightly in the side against her corseted ribs. She chuckled lightly and patted his upper arm placatingly.

They walked together silently for a while. Robert at her side like a windbreaker, not really bothered by her teasing, Cora fell back into pondering. Her throat slowly lost the memory of her chuckle as her darker thoughts about the next London season pushed to the forefront of her mind again.

“I don’t want to let her go, Robert,” she whispered.

Now it was Robert who pulled her hands closer to his arm. His bigger palms covered hers in the crook of his arm. “Sybil won’t go if it isn’t right. She always knew her way, and it will be the same now. And I also know you will support her in what is right for her,” he assured, and his voice became so velvety that Cora wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck or against his chest. “And I will be there with you.”

“I know you will. And I will make her season the most beautiful for her.”

“Of course, you will.”

Robert’s choice of route for their walk guided them to the edge of the forest that bordered the grounds in the south. A row of nearly scarlet-coloured bushes greeted them from afar. The spectacle of autumnal colours was a real treat on their otherwise by harsh wind and cold temperatures marked walk. As they plodded down the gravely way, mostly parallel to the woods, one shade of brown was relieved by another one and yet another one. Cora tried to link her arm more tightly with Robert’s to fully enjoy the comforting palette of warm hues of the brown leaves in the radiance of his heating body. She didn’t know what comforted her more the warm brown vision in front of her or his body next to her.

“Can we make a short detour into the woods?” she asked after a moment.

“If you wish so. I don’t want to overexert you. The weather can change again in no time,” he gave back.

“It will only be a few steps inside,” Cora assured.

…

Inside the forest Robert let Cora choose the way. Outside he had guided them down the paths as he always did. They had their usual route that he variegated here and there slightly. But Cora seemed determined now to explore the grounds and so he let her take the lead. Robert couldn’t quite tell what criteria affected her choice of paths. But knowing his wife, he assumed she followed where nature looked most inviting. He tried to see the trees around with her eyes. But he mostly saw oaks, beeches, and pine trees. One or two times he had to help her across broken branches that lay on the paths. He assisted her in gathering her skirts since it proved a quite demanding task with one of her arms linked to his.

Cora halted at a minor crossroads. She stood right in a ray of the October sun and looked into the depth of the forest.

“It all looks nearly golden,” she said. With her right hand, she pointed somewhere into the trees. “Look how the bark absorbs the warm light. The sun makes the trees shine.”

“I see,” he said, still searching for the exact point she referred to. The gap in the trees, that let in the light to illuminate the tree bark and Cora, also allowed entrance to the wind. A gust came their way, and it wasn’t only dead leaves that swirled around Robert but also the scent of Cora’s hair and perfume. It was a rather nice experience he wouldn’t have expected out here in the woods.

“I want to feel the wind, Robert,” she said as she looked down the narrowing path into the woods. She had to hold onto her hat because gusts tried to grip and abstract it into the distance. Robert furrowed his brow.

“Don’t you feel it?” he asked a little confused. As she turned her face to him, he noticed her rosy cheeks and nose.

“That’s not exactly what I mean. I want to feel it for real,” Cora explained. Her gloved hands now began fiddling with her hat. Only when she pulled out a long hat pin, Robert realised her intention.

“Could please help me for a moment?” she asked.

“Uhm, sure.” Robert let her arm go to ease her task and waited for further instructions.

“If you would please assist me taking off the hat. We can try to keep my hair at least a little put together.” Robert took hold of the brim of her hat and tried his best at taking it off carefully. Cora in the meanwhile secured her coif with her fingers that pushed underneath the hat slightly and pressed the curls to her head. Robert lifted the grey accessory ever so slowly and handed it to her afterwards.

“I feel like I can breathe again,” Cora sighed relieved. Robert had to chuckle. He could never imagine the nonsensical ideas his dear wife came up with. She shook her head slightly in the wind and instantly a few strands of chocolate brown hair tumbled down. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to experience nature armoured against all its merits with these extensive attires,” she explained a little annoyed. For a brief moment, he could Cora as the young girl she once was before he got to know her, running around freely in the woods and on the beaches in the American home of her childhood. And then, after a few seconds, there was the calm and properly dressed Countess again.

“You would freeze without it,” Robert reminded her.

Cora turned around again, looking into the light forest with her hat clutched to her front. She didn’t respond to his last comment but breathed in the fresh wind. Robert came up behind her. Her curls played in the wind. Her coiffure fell apart more and more, and she looked more enticing with every second. The chocolate curls danced while she stood there unmoving. Only the rise and fall of her shoulders, padded in her thick coat, told of the deep breathes she took and of the deliberate movement of her chest.

Robert approached her until he was able to wrap his arms around her. Tentatively he first rested his palms on her shoulders but he didn’t want to oppress her interaction with the wind. His hands on her waist felt much better anyway. Her hair flew around his face and tickled his cheeks.

Cora took good care, he thought suddenly. Nothing that affected their family, their dear girls, escaped her notice. Nothing that had to be done slipped through her fingers. She secured Sybil the greatest coming out ball and the most enjoyable season, and she looked so closely that Sybil would do well when their daughter would leave their caring arms. Robert needn’t worry about any of the girls’ future. Cora was there and she took care where he could never reach. He just had to give her all the stability and comfort she needed, all the stability and comfort he could give. He pressed his cheek to the side of her head. Her hair was soft at his slightly stubbly cheek, and he probably destroyed her coif even more but the wind had already done its deed so he didn’t really give it much thought. Cora leaned back against his chest so that their breathing of the wind synchronised. She was like a hot water bottle in his arms as the wind blew around them. His back and arms began freezing but Cora was pressed to his front, and he could bury his nose in her brown tresses. Knowing she was there with him gave him all the comfort and warmth he needed right now.

#cobert fanfiction #cobert drabble #cobert #cora crawley #robert crawley #s1 #downton abbey fanfiction #downton abbey #cobert fluff

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easily-infatuated23 · 4 years

Text

The Parent and the Professor

a/n: i love the idea of reader being a professor! let me know if you want a part two :) letters are in italics

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Professor!Reader

word count: 4k

warning: mentions of war and not feeling worthy

summary: Will a broken friendship be rekindled when Scorpius’s favorite teacher writes a letter to his father?

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

I have always had a passion for teaching and inspiring young minds. So, it wasn’t surprising that I was ecstatic to start my fourth year teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at my alma mater, Hogwarts. When I first started working there, I was haunted by the memories of the war. Everywhere I looked I could remember a different face of a friend or teacher laying dead. Seeing the students happy faces made the memories easier to bear. Just the knowledge that they could safely live out their childhoods in such a magical and special place softened the lingering pain.

One of my favorite parts of teaching at Hogwarts was teaching the children of the people I had grown up with. For some, I knew so much about their parents from those early silly childhood days that simply seeing their faces made me laugh and reminisce. Of all the children of friends I had taught thus far, the most gifted was Scorpius Malfoy. It wasn’t such a shock that he was so clever, his father had been a very gifted student when he applied himself. I had been apprehensive when I first read Scoripus’s name on the attendance sheet. His father Draco and I had actually been very close friends for the first 6 years of schooling. We were both in Slytherin and he was one of the few people who didn’t tease or berate me for not being a typical Slytherin. Yes he would get annoyed when I stood up for Hermione when he called her a ‘mudblood’ or when I would challenge his pure-blood views but he always was kind to me.

That all changed in the beginning of our sixth year. He started pushing everyone away and yelling at me almost any time he saw me. I tried to continue to be kind to him but my attempts were swatted away like flies. Once the war began, I understood why he had become distant. He was given an impossible task with no choice as to whether or not to complete it. The worst moment came when he walked to the side of the Death Eaters and The Dark Lord. I was one of the few people that knew he did this for the sake of his parents and not for the Dark Lord. He redeemed this action when Harry Potter was revealed to be alive. He threw him his wand and ran back to the side of good. We locked eyes for a moment before he ran through the castle to safety. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. He did make a sort of “apology and amends” tour going to almost every individual in the Wizarding World and showing he was a changed man and that he no longer held his past ideals. The one person he left out on that tour was me.

I never understood why. I figured he either thought our friendship was beyond fixing or maybe because he knew I would forgive him and understand. More likely, I guessed he couldn’t stand to face me. But none of that mattered now. It was all just a slight pain in my heart whenever I saw Scorpius. As the school year began, Scorpius Malfoy excelled in my class. He was always the first to raise his hand to ask or answer a question, always the most engaged and eager to learn. One day after class I noticed he was lingering by the door. “Can I help you Mr. Malfoy?” I asked. He nodded and approached my desk. “I was wondering if you could assign me as Athena’s tutor. I know she asked you for one and I want to volunteer”. He looked down at his shoes, trying to hide a blush I figured stemmed from a small crush on the student called Athena. “I was going to assign it to you any way but because you asked I will also add ten points to Slytherin for taking the initiative”. He looked up and smiled. “Thank you Professor!”. He ran out of the room so giddy, calling to his best friend Albus to tell him the news. “What a sweet kid” I thought. Later that night I took a break from grading tests and thought about my old friend Draco Malfoy. Perhaps I should write him. But just to tell him what a gifted student his son was. His wife had passed away four years ago and I figured it must be lonely being all alone in the large estate he occupied known as Malfoy Manor. Maybe this would re-open a line of communication between the two of us. It had been a long time since I had seen him and frankly, I missed him. He probably didn’t think of me though. Sighing, I picked up my quill and penned a formal letter to my former friend.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

-I couldn’t bring myself to write Draco-

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wanted to inform you that your son has done exceedingly well in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class and has quickly become my prized pupil. He has even volunteered to take on extra tutoring responsibilities. He is a sweet young man and it is a privilege to have him in my class.

Sincerely, Professor Y/L/N

I examined the letter for a long time, constantly frowning at it and wondering if I should just ball it up and forget about it. At last I found the nerve to seal the letter and before I could stop myself Harvey, my owl, was flying away from my cottage. “Too late now” I murmured. My letter went unanswered for nearly two weeks. I spent the entire first week feeling anxious and most of the second week resigned to the idea that Draco had truly decided I was unworthy of a response. After all, it had been many years. On the Friday of the second week, I stayed up late grading some last minute essay submissions when I heard a tapping at my window. I turned to find an unfamiliar owl outside. I opened the window and took the letter. After a sufficient amount of pats and snacks were given to the owl, I settled in to see if the letter was what I had been waiting for. It was the first thing I saw, the green snake seal on the back confirmed it. Draco had responded to my letter. I flipped it over to see my name scrawled on the front in handwriting I used to be more familiar with. I stared at the letter for a long time before finally opening it. I gently removed the seal and unfolded the letter, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would leave my chest.

Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I appreciate your kind words about my son. He has spoken fondly of you and of your class, he says it is his favorite. Congratulations on being the longest serving Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in twenty years. It is quite a feat. I hope you are well.

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

My heart skipped a beat. He matched my formality but he still slipped in something to make me blush. I sighed. I hadn’t been expecting some long rambling dramatic letter explaining why he never came back to me, despite my efforts, but a small clue or hint would have been something. I thought writing the letter might give me more closure but I was horribly mistaken. Now, all I wanted to do was write him back and find some way to see him. I had done my best after the war but he pushed me away more. That night was a sleepless night for me. I felt like a sixteen year old again, debating if I should write him back or not. If I did decide to write him back, how long should I wait? Ultimately, I decided it was best to leave it there.

Two months later, Quidditch season was in full swing as Slytherin was playing Hufflepuff in a match leading up to the finals. I was never one thrilled by the idea of Quidditch, but Scorpius had begged me to come so I attended. He had followed in his father’s foot steps and was the Seeker for the Slytherin team. When I got to the parent and faculty section I was stunned to see none other than Draco Malfoy. I quickly looked away and tried to pretend I hadn’t seen him. I jogged up the bleacher stairs and sat next to the Divinations teacher. For most of the game I pretended to be watching the match but in reality, I kept glancing at Draco’s platinum blonde hair, half hoping he would turn and see me and half hoping he would leave without knowing I was there. Eventually, I was able to relax and enjoy the game. Scorpius lead the team to a win and the Slytherin student section went wild. I could have sworn I saw Athena blow him a kiss. I guess those tutoring sessions had helped him as much as they had helped her grades! I couldn’t help but look down and chuckle to myself, this little bit of childhood romance warmed my heart. When I looked back up my gaze was meant by the piercing blue eyes of Draco Malfoy. I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was that of shock or fear but before I could give a slight smile he looked away. Now this truly felt like we were sixteen again.

Everyone started to rise and leave the section talking and making merry. I rose from my seat and before I could begin to descend, Draco rose suddenly and turned to me, walking in my direction. I froze. “Hello Professor Y/L/N” he said, not meeting my gaze for long. “Mr. Malfoy” was all I could manage to croak. “I was so pleased to receive your letter about Scorpius, he doesn’t always tell me what’s going on when he’s here”. “Yes,” I smiled “he is a wonderful student. You must be very proud of him”. Draco gave a small but sincere smile. “I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you here” I said. “I was able to get a few weeks off from work so I decided to come down and watch the match. It has been nice to see the place so..” he paused. “Free” I finished for him. He smiled and met my gaze again. “Yes thats exactly what I was thinking.” There was a few moments of silence. It wasn’t as awkward or terrifying as I had anticipated. “I should go find my son” he said finally. “Yes of course it was good to see you again”. I meant this whole heartedly. “Perhaps I can see you again soon and we can talk while there is less noise” he said. A little surprised but happy I replied yes. Before turning to leave he squeezed my hand and gave me his signature smirk before turning and descending down the bleachers. Was my friendship with Draco Malfoy finally going to be rekindled? I hoped so. Before turning and walking out of sight he called back to me, “I’ll write you”. I nodded. I would never have expected this to happen and I had no idea what to expect next.

Another week went by before I heard from him. His owl found me in the middle of a lesson, I opened the window and thanked the owl. I tucked the letter into my robe pocket. As I shifted my attention back to the class I saw Scorpius’s face twist with confusion then look at Albus Potter. Shit. He clearly recognized the owl. I decided I would talk to him after class. Once the lesson was over I called Scorpius to my desk. “I saw you looked confused when your father’s owl delivered me a letter so I thought I owed you an explanation”. He said nothing but simply looked at the floor and shifted uncomfortably. “Your father and I actually used to be very close friends in the early years at Hogwarts,” I began. He looked up at me puzzled. It was clear his father had never mentioned that detail to him. “I wrote to your father telling him what an exceptional student you were and then we ran into each other at the last Quidditch match, congratulations by the way, and we discussed possibly meeting to catch up. I didn’t want you to simply see the owl and then have your brain spin in circles thinking of possible reasons for the letter”. He nodded and finally spoke. “Yeah I was really confused at first. I must admit I am a bit more confused now though. He has never spoken about you before. When I told him you were my favorite professor he seemed to not know who you were”. Ouch. “Well we were going through a hard time back then, I don’t blame him for forgetting” I managed, trying to keep my composure. “You may go” I finished. He jogged out of the room glancing back one more time before finally leaving. Maybe he thought I died. Rationalizing wasn’t helping. I climbed the small staircase in my classroom and entered my office, locking the door behind me. I opened the letter and read its contents.

Dear Professor Y/L/N,

It was pleasant running into you at the Quidditch match last week. If you are able, perhaps you would be kind enough to meet at Malfoy Manor for lunch on Saturday at 11:30. I fear we have much to discuss and would prefer to do so in private.

Sincerely, Draco Malfoy

Saturday, at the Manor. It would be a difficult place to be. Although I was a Slytherin, I had befriended Harry Potter and the rest of his trouble-making trio. I enjoyed their company. It provided a break from the constant berating from the rest of my house. However, due to this friendship I had been taken and held hostage along with Luna Lovegood in Malfoy Manor for a few weeks before the final battle. I had been hit with every curse short of killing me. Draco had been forced to witness but did nothing to help me. I understood why he couldn’t but just once it would have been nice to see him stand up for me. But, alas, I figured I wasn’t worthy of any help. Returning to the Manor was something I never thought I would do but his letter let on to a promise of answers to questions I had been harboring for so long now.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I accept.

Sincerely, Professor Y/L/N

Short and sweet. Now came the long wait for Saturday. Once the day arrived I was more nervous than I had previously anticipated. I pulled on a pair of black slacks and a fitted white long sleeve shirt. Over the top I chose to wear my brown striped blazer. I put on my favorite silver earrings and necklace with an ’S’ charm. When we had been young, Draco gave me a silver ring for my birthday that was shaped like a snake. I had worn it everyday since then without thought. When I went to reach for it today, I paused. Wearing it had become part of my daily routine but he didn’t know that. Would he think I wore it just for him? I shook the thought out of my head and wore it anyway. If I didn’t wear it I was worried I wouldn’t feel complete which would make me more nervous than I already was. I pulled my light brown hair into a half-up-half-down look and applied some light mascara. I was never one to wear makeup but I hadn’t slept much on Friday night so adding some definition to my face and leading the attention to my green eyes became a necessity to attract attention away from my dark circles.

At 11:29 I gathered all the courage I could and apparated to Malfoy Manor. I knocked timidly on the front door. Even the frigid fall wind couldn’t cool my skin as I blushed in anticipation of the meeting. When he opened the door I was overwhelmed by the scent of apples and cologne that had once held a permanent residence in my nose. “Professor, please come in” he said cordially. I nodded and entered into the place that had housed my nightmares for so long. But somehow it was different. The decor wasn’t as sterile as it once was. It actually looked more lived in and closer to a home than a prison. He noticed my slight surprise. “We’ve redone the place a bit so it probably looks much different compared to……last time” he mumbled. I put on my bravest smile and turned to him. “Yes it is quite lovely Mr. Malfoy”. “Please, you can call me Draco. ‘Mr. Malfoy’ is awfully formal don’t you think?”. I looked at him, a slight smirk waved across his face. “Alright, as long as you call me Y/N” I replied. He led me to the kitchen where a small round table was set and had sandwiches on the plates. “I figured since it was just the two of us there was no need to use the dinning room. Can I take your jacket?” he asked. I nodded and unbuttoned my blazer, handing it to him. As he took it from me, I saw him glance at my right hand and saw the serpent ring coiled around my middle finger. He quickly took the blazer from me and said nothing.

As we sat down to eat there was a few minutes of uncomfortable silence before I finally broke and turned to him. “I am sorry but I have a lot of questions and I won’t leave without answers”. He sighed. Nodding, he turned toward me and I began. “Why didn’t you find me after the war? I wrote to you and tried to reach out but you ignored me. When I told Scorpius we had been old friends he looked at me as if I was lying. Why? Did you completely erase me from your life? If thats the case its your decision but I would like to know why.” I paused, waiting for him to speak. “After the war, I was so ashamed that I never stood up for you and how badly I had hurt you when I shut you out, I didn’t feel worthy of your forgiveness. I ignored your letters because I thought you would be better off not ever having to be reminded of the pain that I caused you.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. I exhaled sharply and buried my face in my hands before I finally replied. “Then I guess you never knew me at all”. He looked up, a stunned expression on his face. “Of all the people in the world you should’ve known that I would be the one to forgive you the most. I understood why you did what you did and why you couldn’t help me. You as much as the rest of us were fighting for the lives of us and our families. Had it really been your choice, I don’t think you would have complied.” He stood up and walked away from the table. “I know” he finally said. “I realized all of that a few years ago but at that point I thought it was too late.” He leaned on the kitchen counter with his back to me. His head was dropped and his shoulders were shaking softly. “Its one of my biggest regrets.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Well, we’re here now. If you have anything else you want to say, nows the time.” He turned back to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never helped you, I’m sorry I didn’t find you after the fighting was over, I’m sorry I didn’t defend you better at school, I’m sorry for all of it.” His words sounded desperate but genuine. It was like he couldn’t find the breath to properly support his list of apologies. “Stop” I said suddenly. I walked in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, lowering my head until he was forced to meet my gaze. “I forgive you. Completely and totally. I just want my friend back.” He chuckled through a cry before pulling me into a tight hug. His hands were around my waist and mine around his neck. I moved my right hand to the back of his neck and stroked his hair, like I had when we were kids whenever he was upset. He chuckled again softly and held me tighter. “Ok as nice as this is I think you are gonna squeeze all the life out of me!” I joked. “Oh I’m sorry” he breathed as he let me go and pushed me away slightly.

After this first meeting, I saw him almost every weekend. We would meet and reminisce and catch up on our lives. At our third meeting he asked me about the ring. “I see you still wear the ring I gave you. I thought you would have gotten rid of it”. He held my right hand and looked at the ring. “Draco, truthfully, I was worn this ring every single day of my life since you gave it to me. It’s a part of me”. This seemed to please him as his cheeks flushed a light pink. By our sixth meeting me we were sharing a bottle of wine after dinner when he decided to play an old record of songs played at the Yule Ball. “Oh my goodness I can’t believe you actually have this!” I laughed as he purposefully did his worst dance moves. “This was one of my favorite nights at school, how could I not!” Before I knew it, he scooped me up and we were dancing the awful and silly choreographed dance we all had to learn. He spun me around in his living room as the music played. Our shadows were dancing on the walls from the light of the fire. “I don’t think I have laughed this hard in years!” I remarked. “Me too” he replied with a chuckle. Just then all of the sudden the laughter stopped and I realized this was the closest I had been to him since we were in school. This only lasted a few moments before Scorpius appeared at the door. We quickly broke apart and Draco took a step froward. “Yes son?”. “Uh, I just wanted to let you know I was going to Albus’s house to spend the night..” he stared at me with a look of confusion on his face. “Oh yes thats fine, have fun and be safe”. He quickly left the room and hurried out the front door before either of us could offer an explanation. “Oh gosh that was so embarrassing” I said, sitting on the couch and hiding my face in my hands. “He probably thinks that we kissed or were about to” I said, the sound muffled through my hands. Draco sat down next to me. “Weren’t we?” he asked timidly. I sat up and looked at him. “I don’t know, my mind kinda went blank” I chuckled. “Mine too” he smiled. “Can I kiss you?” he asked finally. I smiled and nodded. He smiled back and reached his hand out until he touched my face. He brushed his thumb over my cheek as it made its way to brush over my lips. With his other fingers positioned under my chin, he gently pulled my face closer to his, tilting it slightly upwards and to the right. He kissed me gently moving his hand back to my cheek. I hadn’t expected him to be so gentle but I was so happy I sunk into it easily. Scorpius would get an explanation later, right now, I just wanted to live in the moment I never realized I wanted.

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