#did i use this as an excuse to play with my toning and hatching?

[doomspiral]

Prussia and Brandenburg having a tense moment for @arschbiene , also thanks for the brainworms.

#hetalia #aph prussia #aph brandenburg #mein #did i use this as an excuse to play with my toning and hatching? #maybe

[palmofafreezinghand]

tradition

Edward surprises Esme with Christmas. on ao3 here. 

1923. 

There was a fresh layer of snow coating the wooded yard, an undrinkable mug of coffee steaming on his desk, an engaging article about post-war prosthetics in his lap. To many like him the scene was trite but to Carlisle there was something peculiarly enjoyable in mimicking rituals that brought others so much joy. So he found himself where he had many Christmas seasons before, alone, lost in a medical journal while the rest of the world tucked themselves away with their cherished loved ones by a roaring fire, the roar of familial laughter sweeter than any carol. 

The study door swinging open broke Carlisle from his thoughts. “If you were lonely you could have just said that,” Edward scoffed as he entered the room. “‘The roar of familial laughter’ you are so melodramatic.” 

“Says kettle,” Carlisle said, flipping the page of his journal. 

“How would you feel about starting a little tradition?” Edward asked, collapsing over the back of the couch, his feet hanging in the air. 

“Pardon?” Carlisle asked, looking over the frames of his unnecessary reading glasses, restraining himself from rolling his eyes at the boy’s complete lack of decorum. 

“Christmas is coming up, I wanted to surprise Esme,” Edward shrugged, still upside down. “Like how you surprised me.” 

What had started as a half-hatched foolish plan turned into the best Christmas of his life. He had feared repeating the celebration would somehow infringe on that cherished memory. ‘That wouldn’t make it less special for you?’ Carlisle mentally asked. 

“Not if you let me help this time,” Edward smiled. 

‘Are you sure she’s ready?’  

They had not celebrated the holiday, or any, since she joined their little group. There were eighteen short days between the day Edward and Carlisle thought the happiest of the year and the day which was the greatest day of her life, a mere twenty between the worst. The two men had agreed they would celebrate privately, quietly, and if she one day approached the subject they would more than gladly celebrate how she wished. She had made absolutely zero mention of the day. 

“I think so, and if she isn’t she has a strong enough backbone now to tell us to buzz off.” 

“Tell who to buzz off?” Esme asked, walking into the study, a basket of firewood on her hip. Carlisle stood the second she crossed the threshold, taking the kindling from her hands and setting it next to the brick fireplace. 

“I can do that myself,” Esme complained, taking a seat on the arm of the couch, watching as Carlisle began to feed the fire, a chore he reserved for only himself. He waved off the complaint he had heard dozens of times before.  

“He has to fret over something, Esme,” Edward teased. 

 “Sit up, please,” Esme asked, swatting at Edward’s shoes that rested over the couch. “You’re going to get sick with all your blood rushing to your head like that.” 

“Did you hear that, Papa?” Edward gasped in a comically horrendous English accent. “It’s a Christmas miracle! I have blood again, like a real boy.” 

Carlisle stifled a laugh, “Edward, listen to your mother,” Carlisle said in a tone attempting to be stern, playing into the boy’s joke. 

Edward rolled his eyes but sat up properly, “would my mother like to go catch dinner with our teeth?” 

“Yes, she would,” Esme laughed as Edward pulled her off the couch and out of the office. 

“We had elk last week,” Carlisle could hear Edward whine, already out the door and in the backyard. Esme must have made a joke mentally because soon the two’s laughter was ringing through the air, indeed a sound sweeter than carols. 

_______________________

A week of whispered plans and secret preparations found Edward and Carlisle shooing Esme out the door, with a flimsy excuse that it was critical she venture into town to complete some random errand they made up desperately praying she’d fall for it, it took a lot of convincing but she eventually did. 

“What on earth am I going to get her?” Carlisle asked as they rushed to decorate the freshly chopped spruce fir standing tall in the middle  of the family room. 

“An engagement ring,” Edward suggested, carrying a box of handmade ornaments down the stairs. “A grand wedding. An exotic honeymoon.” 

“You’ve lost your mind,” Carlisle laughed to himself, it wasn’t the first time Edward had suggested proposing, but like every other time before it was completely unreasonable. 

“You’ve kissed her,” Edward pointed out the change in circumstance Carlisle was ignoring. 

“She kissed me,” Carlisle corrected. The kiss, while divine, was fully practical in nature. It was for appearances, she did not want to kiss him, she certainly did not want to marry him. 

“Marriage seems like the next logical step, no?” 

“I believe there’s a few in between but thank you I’ll keep that in mind,” Carlisle laughed as he wrapped another strand of gaudy tinsel around the tree. 

They spent the next two hours decorating then re-decorating then re-re-decorating the entire house. The two had not expected the pressure of decorating for the approval of someone who so effortlessly put together a home, who saw art in every sliver of the world. They landed on the sixth iteration of the decked tree when the crunch of an automobile tire on the gravel driveway rang through the house. 

“I still think we should have taken the taller tree,” Edward whispered as he shoved the last few empty boxes in the storage closet. 

“It was disproportionate to the room,” Carlisle said for what had to be the eighth time, straightening the tree skirt. Edward, of course, re-straightened it the minute Carlisle’s hands left the fabric. 

“Well if you did it right the first time,” Edward seethed. 

“Shush, she’s coming.” 

Edward and Carlisle stood themselves in front of the tree, side by side, ready to shout their festive salutations. Before they could utter the word Merry the front door slammed closed. 

“I am so angry at you two,” Esme seethed from the foyer, her boots kicked off with a resounding  thump. “I wrote a speech.” 

“About how mad you are at us?” Edward asked with a slight smile. 

“Yes,” Esme said, her tone close to the harshest Carlisle had ever heard it. “I knew if I told you, you’d say something sweet and I’d forgive you and I do not want to forgive you so I wrote a speech.” 

“Are you alright?” Carlisle asked, stepping away from the decorated tree and into the front room. 

“No. I almost killed someone!” She exclaimed, angrily undoing her hair pins. 

“Your eyes look gold,” Carlisle said quietly.  

“Your throat feels fine,” Edward added. 

Esme rolled her eyes, correcting their assumption, “with that stupid car of yours. It’s a death trap, they should outlaw them.” 

“They’re not a death trap if you know how to use them,” Edward smirked, appearing in the doorway, partly blocking the decor from her view. 

“That’s rich from the man who drives like a bat out of hell,” she laughed coldly, pushing past him and walking into the living room. She stopped mid-step, her eyes fixed on the decorated tree and then whipping to Carlisle and Edward. “What’s happening? What is all this?” 

“Merry Christmas!” Edward grinned, wrapping his arm around Esme’s shoulders. 

“You don’t celebrate Christmas,” she frowned. 

“Yes, we do,” Edward smiled.  

“You told me you don’t celebrate.” 

“We didn’t want to pressure you into celebrating,” Carlisle explained. 

“You told me you hate Christmas,” Esme told Edward. 

“We lied, we love it,” Edward laughed. 

“Why? Why would you lie about that?” 

“We know this time of year is hard for you and we feared if we told you we liked the holiday you would pretend to be fine,” Carlisle said. “We thought this might be something you enjoy this year but if this is too much we can take it down.” 

She didn’t respond, instead stepping closer to the tree, squinting at the various ornaments. 

“We made most of them,” Edward explained. “We figured you’d find commercial Christmas -” 

“Kitsch,” Esme finished his sentence, eyes still jumping around the tree. She picked up one of the frame ornaments, in it a pencil sketch she had drawn years earlier of the three of them. 

“I wanted to use this as the angel but Carlisle thought you wouldn’t like it,” Edward said, pulling out the angel he had poorly sculpted out of clay, pasting one of Esme’s old self-portraits as the face. Carlisle truly thought it was quite charming but knew she would find it horrendous. 

“That is horrendous,” she laughed at the creation. “The star is much better.” 

“I was right,” Carlisle smiled and for the first time since she saw the sight she finally looked at him. The joy in her eyes made him feel like a fool for ever doubting she would be mad. However, she quickly looked past him, eyes landing on the stockings hung from the mantle. Three cream stockings Carlisle had crocheted on his lunch breaks, a smaller light blue one at the end of the mantle. It was like watching a china teacup shatter as she realized, the slight bite of her cheek, the dilation of her pupils. “I apologiz-” 

He was cut off by her arms squeezing around his waist, his arms instinctively wrapping around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured into his sweater. 

“We’ve said enough nice things, you forgive us?” Edward laughed, the sound causing Esme to break the embrace. 

“I suppose,” she laughed. “Although the one gift I’d like is to never have to drive that death box ever agai-” she stopped mid word, eyes widening at some unknown realization, darting out of the room in less than a second. 

“Esme?” Carlisle asked, standing in the middle of the living room utterly confused. 

“I have three years worth of gifts to make up for!”  Esme shouted from the top of the stairs. “See you on the twenty-fifth!” And with that her bedroom door clicked closed. 

Edward and Carlisle shared a glance, quickly dissolving into laughter. 

“Merry Christmas, Carlisle,” Edward sighed. 

“Merry Christmas, Edward.”

#technically this is an excerpt from fas but i think it can stand alone #carlisle cullen #esme platt #esme cullen #edward cullen #twilight fanfiction #queue #my stories

[lastxviolet]

Madripoor is for Lovers - Ch. 1

Summary: Y/N is a SWORD agent recruited to help Sam and Bucky track down Karli and the super-soldiers. When Helmut Zemo joins the team, he takes a special interest in her. The friendly union is wrought for disaster, but then things take a turn for the worst when Y/N is taken as collateral. Will Zemo keep her forever? Does she even want to escape? And what happened in Madripoor that made the whole thing so complicated?

Warnings: 18+ / eventual smut / kidnapping

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32878015/chapters/81589774

“Don’t scream,” a voice whispered in your ear, low and slow. “I do not wish to harm you.”

His hand wrapped around your mouth and the other snaked around your waist. The cool metal of a gun pressed into your ribs. He pulled you tight and fast against his body with ease.

You knew who it was, of course. It was the only person in the room not fighting in the pit of madness. The duel between a super soldier, the new Captain America, and the Dora Milaje hadn't been tempting. But it’d been him to grab your arm to pull you away from the fighting when Sam had yelled for help and now you knew why.

“Don’t do this,” you hissed against his hand.

Zemo pulled you backward, inch by agonizing inch.

You clicked your heels against the floor hoping to knock something over along the way. Anything to get Sam and Bucky’s attention. No one even glanced your way.

“None of that, Liebling,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. His grip on your waist tightened as you passed through the bathroom threshold. What was worse, you wondered. Seeing your team; your friends disappear behind the closed double doors. Or the goosebumps from Zemo’s breath hot on your neck.

With his gun aimed at you, he knelt near the bathtub and pushed it aside to reveal an escape hatch in the floor. You watched him unlatch it and then smirk, surprised that his plan was going so well. That smirk made your blood boil.

“I’m more hassle than I’m worth,” you warned, casting a hesitant glance down the manhole.

He motioned for you to jump down first. “But you are excellent collateral.”

The noise of battle continued beyond the doors, much to your disappointment. They weren’t going to notice in time. Sam and Bucky had looked out for you but their alliance superseded any with you. Sam had only known you for a few months, and Bucky even less. You shot a prayer into the ether that they'd think of you if only this one time.

“You overestimate my importance to them,” you hissed.

Zemo looked up with dark and serious eyes. Usually, when aimed at you, they were less so. You wouldn't have considered him a friend, by any means. But in the last few weeks, he'd become a quiet, witty companion, who infuriated you less than most. Especially when Sam and Bucky spent most of the mission bickering about the plans you had made.

“Perhaps you underestimate yourself,” he cooed, shaking his head.

Sewage stink hit your senses immediately. This would not be pleasant. The drop was too short to give you the time to make a run for it. A second after your feet hit the ground, Zemo returned his gun to your head, with a smile.

“This way.”

Fighting was pointless, that much you knew. You hadn’t been recruited by Sam for your fighting abilities, as Zemo hadn’t been recruited for his. You were handy with a gun but tracking and strategy were your specialties. They’d taken you far in the military, and then as an anomaly investigator and agent with SWORD. And now, they’d brought you here, kidnapped, with a gun to your head in the back of Zemo’s car.

The driver was off towards the airstrip without any further commotion. You watched the road behind you, hopeful to see Sam or Bucky run up on the car. You could've even settled for a Dora Milaje with murder in their eyes and Zemo’s name on their tongue but it was empty.

Once on the plane, you sat in the furthest seat towards the back. Angry, hurt, and nervous, because despite all the warning bells, you’d trusted him. There was clear hatred between your teammates and Zemo but it was different between the two of you. You had no past or grudges against one another. It was silly now to think that that made you believe that there was an understanding.

“I hope you don’t think me indecent,” he murmured, gesturing to an opaque scarf in his hands. He avoided your gaze before wrapping it around your face. “But it would be unwise for me to trust you with my location. You are too intelligent for your own good.”

“Is it normal for wardens to flatter their prisoners,” you hissed, hoping to land a blow.

You heard him sit in the seat across from you and felt his foot brush yours as he crossed his legs.

“Prisoner,” he chuckled. “You are my guest Y/N and I hope that in time, you will find that I can be an excellent host.”

“In time,” you repeated, weighing the consequences of not putting up a fight when you could. How long did he plan to keep you?

He was quiet then, and so were you. The choice of words lingering between you. It wasn't until after takeoff that he spoke again. A glimpse of his face would've given you the clues you desired but the tone of his words was enough. His exhaustion from relentless thought weighed his voice to a deep baritone. Sluggish and soft.

“I have no intention of living the rest of my days in a cell,” he whispered finally.

You couldn't feel bad for him, especially when his freedom came at the cost of your own. It was clear then that confidence and swagger were a disguise, for survival. You’d seen glimmers of the real pain lurking beneath the smirks and fur coat but you hadn’t thought that he’d let it win. It wasn't a disappointment but somewhat a relief to go toe to toe with the real man.

“You can’t run forever,” you reminded him in a soft tone, trying to coax the shadow of humanity left in him out further.

“Ah,” he sighed. “It feels nice to know that you can be wrong, Y/N. For a moment, I doubted that you were human.”

The words lit an angry fire inside you. You couldn’t see him but almost heard the cavalier shrug he threw in for effect. The fabric over your eyes covered the tops of your cheeks hiding the angry flush. You hated him for making this complicated. You hated yourself even more, for not screaming when you had the chance.

Except for the occasional page turn, the rest of the ride was silent, which was unusual for the two of you. There’d been an instant dialogue since the very first time you’d met a few weeks ago. Since then, quiet moments had been rare.

________

The Baron’s private plane had landed an hour ago, but no one was on the tarmac yet. It’d taken you, Sam, and Bucky that long to come to terms with the uniforms chosen for the night.

“You know you don’t have to Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and glared at Sam through the small airplane mirror.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him before going back to gawking at the dress. Tight but not too short, seeing as you were posing as a baroness tonight in the mission to Madripoor. Sheer black fabric slung over one shoulder, sewn onto a bustier underneath. Simple. Elegant. You’d never worn anything like it.

Sam shook his head, mumbling something about this being a bad idea.

“It’s better than the Air Force uniform,” you smiled, knowing full well that that’d get at least a chuckle out of him. It did, earning the both of you a glare from Bucky who was the worst off tonight.

“No time like the present,” Zemo called from the front of the plane. The men left you, bickering about whose outfit was worse. You tried to follow but the only piece of jewelry, a silver charm necklace, put up a fight.

“Allow me?”

Zemo’s voice made you jump. He leaned against the door, with a hand outstretched towards you. Now that half the audience to entertain was gone, he looked more forlorn; less self-assured.

You nodded, moving your hair out of the way before handing the necklace to him. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He did that a lot you had realized. After the fireworks at the beginning of the ride, he’d turned his attention to you. Smile bright, but the eye’s dead. One would think small talk was his forte but you knew better. It is an easy distraction; a way to put your opposition at ease. Regardless, you couldn't blame him for seeking to charm the only one on the flight that did not hate him.

“I don’t think that we met,” he’d stated, settling into the seat across from you. “Last time.”

“Don’t talk to her,” Bucky hissed. You knew he was trying to help but you waved him off, giving him a look that said ‘someone has to talk to him.’

“No, I’m new,” you’d told him, squinting at the artificial grin that didn’t leave his face. You guessed that conversation was difficult to come by in prison. It was a pity that he was an evil mastermind. His ability to fake friendliness rivaled the most talented US agents.

“How new?”

“A few weeks before you.”

His eyes twinkled at your commonality. They bore into yours, trying to decipher what you know of what he'd done. This look was how you knew the stories of his genius, were true. They scanned and shifted, guessing that you knew it all with one look. He was right, of course, and you thought that would be the end of it. Then, he surprised you. He asked about your family, schooling, job, passions, and interests. He spoke about the books he’d had in prison, and you teased him for even reading The Prince.

He smiled wider and wider as you spoke until Sam shot you a glare and you gave the Baron some excuse about sleep. But even when you closed your eyes, and curled up into the seat, you’d felt his eyes remain on your face.

Warm hands against your neck brought you out of the trance and back to the man who you should hate.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, watching his somber expression in the reflection.

“The sigil is — was, my family’s,” he stated, coming around to face you and fiddle with the charm. “You are playing the part of a baroness, after all. We need to make it believable.”

His lips curled into a soft smile at the royal word. A chill ran down your spine. Even though your conversation had been short, you hadn’t meant to enjoy it so much. Conversation was like pulling teeth with most of the people you knew, especially Sam and Bucky. And even when it came, it didn’t flow like this.

“There are worse roles,” you mused, shooting him a soft smile in return. “I could have to play the part of the mind-controlled assassin, or worse, the evil baron.”

He smirked. “Strenuous, yes. I have found that there is nothing more difficult to be, than yourself.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You find it easy, to be yourself?”

“No, I don’t think that you are what you want us to believe.”

The words seemed to catch him off guard and you wondered the last person to show him any kindness was. Not that your words were kind.

Sam yelled some threat from the cabin about Zemo keeping his hands off of you, and you knew that your time was up. You ignored the pang of disappointment and looked up at the Baron's stone eyes.

“I am afraid that I will prove you wrong Y/N.”

You nodded and followed him out into the cold evening.

Low town was the target and as the four of you walked, the air was tense.

You nudged Bucky. “You ok?”

“Never better,” he sighed through gritted teeth.

A car appeared on the fluorescent bridge you were crossing as Zemo took his position next to you. Bucky stood on the other side of him, silent since you’d all marched out of the plane. You couldn't tell if it was memory that hardened his eyes or tonight’s assignment.

“You’re Bucky Barnes, born 1917,” you reminded the sullen soldier. “No more, no less.”

Zemo’s eyes squinted at your words, no doubt in disagreement but you avoided his gaze.

Bucky nodded and gave you a half-smile. It was as much as he could muster, especially when he had to become something he was trying so hard to forget. People have a way of finding their way back to themselves in time and you wondered how long he had left to go. The man who fought in WW2 was different from the man who fought against the Avengers. Both versions of him were different still from the man who'd turned silent in recent years.

“No matter what happens, we have to stay in character,” Zemo instructed as a car appeared on the bridge. “Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

You prepared yourself for the night ahead where you would look at the Baron with lust. It would feel strange to see him as something other than interesting and distrustful. Attraction to him was not far-fetched. He had a strong face and a sultry accent, but you stood on opposite sides of the moral spectrum in the end. Unfortunately, your realism in love hadn’t left you very open to romantic connections. From the little experience you had, it was clear that couples didn’t work if they didn't have a common goal. Yours was not the destruction of your friends and his was not to make the world a better place.

An arm snaked around your waist, cutting off the train of thought. You jumped and looked wide-eyed at Zemo.

“We are newlyweds, yes?”

His words sounded more like a question but a smile played on his lips. You nodded, unfamiliar with the feel of a confident man at your side.

“Right,” you confirmed, being the first one to break eye contact.

The car doors opened and you knew the driver was the first person to judge the performance. You let Zemo pull you towards the car and then hesitated as he walked to the passenger side. You glanced to the middle seat between Bucky and Sam in the back. Sensing your hesitation, Zemo pulled you close.

“Your performance has begun, Baroness Zemo.”

You smiled like he’d whispered a sweet nothing in your ear and drew close to return the favor.

“I’d keep my last name,” you breathed, earning a soft chuckle.

Despite the nerves, you let him pull you into his lap and tried your best to look lovesick. It wasn’t as difficult as you thought as his large hands held your waist, and one of your legs. He looked ahead, with a smug smile and ran small circles on your bare leg. The rush of goosebumps and the hitch of your breath gave you away within seconds. His smug smile turned devious in the reflection on the window.

“Das hast wunderschöne Augen.”

He whispered into the side of your head. You didn’t speak German, and even if you did, you doubted you'd want to hear something mundane or rude. Yet you could feel the hammering of your heart in each fingertip as he spoke in his native language.

A performance you reminded yourself. Two could play at whatever he was doing. You turned to glare at him before bringing a hand up to caress his cheek. The light scruff tickled your knuckles and you wondered what he’d look like with a beard. His brand of handsome wasn't rugged, even when he'd escaped the prison, he looked neat and clean. You rested your head against his shoulder and continued stroking his rounded cheeks. Being a few inches away from his face gave you a chance to study his features. It’d be good practice if you ever had to pick him out of a fleeing crowd, or a Madripoor police lineup.

Other powerful engines surrounded the car. Motorcycles with nosy drivers appeared in each window. He gripped your thigh harder, warning that the stakes were high, even here and it had to look real. A heat manifested between your legs, followed by a throbbing that you hoped he wouldn’t notice. It didn’t feel so much like an act anymore and in truth when ran your fingers through his hair, you did it out of desire. He sucked in a breath and gripped your waist like iron. The stern man didn't seem so impenetrable anymore, as your lips brushed his ear, following a sloppy pattern along his jaw. You ran your fingers through his hair roughly again and felt a slight gasp leave him. His eyes left the windows and found yours. Serious and challenging. His hand moved up towards the hem of your dress. The fabric put up less of a fight than you as he gripped your bare ass. He felt the heat then, releasing a noise from the back of his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed and your kissing became frantic. Your lips buzzed from the pressure and his five o’clock shadow. His lips parted in anticipation but before you could make it, the car stopped.

Zemo released you immediately, nodding an apology to the driver. Pity, you thought, it felt like you were finally making him a little nervous.

Sam and Bucky averted their eyes as the group walked through the streets, trying to look normal. Again, Zemo slung an arm around your waist. You took this as your cue to drape yourself on his shoulder. He stared ahead like this was a death march and that a guillotine stood on the other side of the door with his name on it. He’d been here before, you remembered. The memories couldn’t have been pleasant judging by the way his mouth pressed into a tense line. Empathy came over you and you reached out to slip a hand under his coat to rest on his chest.

This broke the trance and he stared at you for a moment before a smug smile crept across his stone-cold expression. It would've annoyed you but not a second later, he reached up to hold your fingers against him. He pressed you into his sweater, rubbing each finger in an anxious pattern, the only sign of nerves at all. Even the heartbeat beneath his sweater was still steady and calm.

Zemo led you all through a packed crowd to a dim bar. The agent part of you wanted to stray from your role and look around to assess the situation. But your mind went blank as his hand dropped to your hip and guided you up against the bar. You faced a mirrored wall holding more extravagant bottles than you’d ever seen in your life.

Through the reflection, you watched Zemo claim ownership of his Baroness. Each of his hands gripped the railing on either side of you, pressing his chest into your exposed back. His large stature towered over you, but your eyes couldn't tear away from his hands. Their grip around the rounded corners was mesmerizing. In a flash, your brain conjured the image of him holding your legs apart with the same strength. You let out a shaking breath. The fur from his coat tickled your back, and you couldn't focus on his words to Sam as his breath hit your neck.

Disgruntled with the lack of vantage point, you turned in his arms, bringing your face a few inches from his. Intent on taking in the room, you rested your chin on his shoulder. People had noticed your group right away and hadn't stopped looking. You kept eye contact with some, all while kissing the Baron's neck. Only then, did you feel his heart rate quicken.

Zemo spoke to the bartender behind you, but you didn’t hear them. Again, he tested your boundaries by caressing your thigh underneath your short dress.

Newlyweds, you reminded yourself. Very horny, newlyweds.

Mesmerized by the raunchy crowd behind you, and the soft caress of his hand, you gave in again. You peppered wet kisses of longing against his jaw as he spoke to a man who’d come up on the other side of him. He swallowed hard but somehow, you doubted it was out of fear of the man that Bucky had in a chokehold a few moments later.

That was the last moment you remembered feeling calm that night. The moments after put your mission and lives in jeopardy. When the violence and fleeing had played out you'd realized that his hands had never left you. The safety of his grasp was far more dangerous than Madripoor. The feeling of relief when he’d found your waist again at Sharon’s party, had you kicking yourself.

“A very believable performance, Agent Y/N” he purred. “Well done.”

You smiled and glanced down at the few inches between the two of you. Drinking was not the best option tonight but it was too late. Vodka was already coursing through your veins.

“I’d call it compelling,” you smirked. “Not believable.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyeing you with curiosity and something else. Something ferocious that made you wonder why he didn’t have an army of devotees or a cult following. It was that look that made you question your willpower, for the first time ever.

“Why’s that?”

Exactly the question you’d been hoping for. He’d had the upper hand all night but that was going to change.

“Who would believe that I would actually fall for you,” you teased, tossing back the last of your drink.

That would’ve been the end of it for a lesser man but Zemo smiled, showing all his teeth. He was always intrigued by a challenge.

“Tell me, Y/N, who would you fall for?”

Your mouth went dry and although a smirk was still plastered to your lips, nerves rushed back in.

“As if I have time,” you laughed.

He returned the smile. “Gun to your head, then.”

The alcohol in your system whispered different answers. Irresponsible answers. Bringing them to fruition would give you more than you bargained for but you fought against them.

“I like nice men,” you whispered, watching his reaction. “Who don’t use animals for fashion.”

He chuckled and then a dark look passed over his face before he closed the gap between you. A step backward and you found yourself against a wall with nowhere to go. Zemo brought a hand to your neck, caressing the exposed skin and the chain resting there.

“Who says I am not a nice man?”

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Your body count, history, profession…reputation.”

He nodded. “Ah, you mistake ambition and purpose for — cruelty.”

“I never said you were cruel. I know you don’t crave suffering. I know there was a reason…for what you did.”

He cocked his head again and pursed his lips, looking at you like a puzzle; something not yet solved.

The techno beat dissolved into a slower, bass-heavy, R&B song. The hand on your neck made its way down to your waist once again, pulling you in. You complied without a fight, letting the Baron lead you through a slow dance.

“Even I can be gentle,” he said after a while. “For you — I would even consider being sweet.”

The words sent shockwaves through your body, igniting every inch. He was a master of manipulation and a conniving son of a bitch who wanted your colleagues — friends, dead. And yet, your mind and body betrayed you. You squeezed him a little tighter and pulled in a little closer.

“And what about the fur coat,” you whispered, playing with the fuzzy material against his neck.

He surprised you with his laughter. He threw his head back in a genuine laugh and leaned into your neck to stifle the giggles.

“I have been in a prison jumpsuit for the last eight years, forgive me for my outdated fashion,” he cooed. You could feel the smirk against your skin.

“Is it real,” you asked, holding up the stupid furry flap.

“Of course. I am a Baron,” he responded, pulling you closer, staring at your lips.

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #the falcon & the winter soldier #baron zemo fic #zemo fic #zemo smut #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you

[writefightandflightclub]

You are my sunshine (Finn x GN reader)

What is this? This is 7/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is from @phoenixhalliwell​ and is Finn with “You think something is wrong but I simply have a huge crush on you and turn to jelly whenever you’re around.” Emma, thanks so much, and I hope that you like this! <3 I don’t write Finn often so I dearly hope I did him justice!

Author’s note: Finn! He’s precious. He deserves everything! Hope you enjoy this- there’s a little bit of angst but it’s followed by fluff. Everything ends well <3

Word count: 3k. You had all better be proud of me for writing something less than 5k :P

Warnings: lil bit of angst (reader thinks Finn is mad at them). Trapped in a cockpit but no danger / not claustrophobic or anything. Slight reader insecurity. It’s pretty light tbh :o)

You watch Finn leave with a sharp pang of pain. His excuses are becoming more and more elaborate, and it’s wearing thin. 

 “Sorry, I have to go and deal with a porg infestation on the Falcon.”

“I can’t hang around, Leia’s fuming mad at Poe - he made some crude Outer Rim innuendo during the briefing and she is pissed.”

“I can’t play sabacc anyway because... because I got dust in my eyes on the mission and everything is blurry.”

“I have to run and...” and then he, in fact, ran away from you.

Alright, the first two were feasible, but that last one, especially? Pretty kriffing flimsy.

It was beginning to sting a little. Alright, a lot. You and Finn usually hung out, whenever he was around on base. You always had, ever since Finn had taken control of his fate and been welcomed by the Resistance.

Since then, you had become his first real friend, and when everything was scary and new to him, you had held his hand. Literally- Finn was always reaching for you. For comfort. For reassurance. To demonstrate his fondness of you. Just because.

Of course, he’d settled into the Resistance like he’d always been a part of it, and had quickly formed a range of new friendships, including with Poe and Rey - all the cool kids on base. Of course he had. The man is likeable, courageous, and he has sunshine in his heart - despite being raised in the shadows. The strength of his light is so powerful that it blinds you sometimes. So, he’d made other friends, but you had always been his first, and his best.

At least, until now.

Recently, Finn’s touches and warm hugs and light had begun to retreat from your sky. You miss his bright brown eyes and his beaming smile desperately. You miss your movie nights and long chats. You miss laughing until your sides hurt. You miss the way he can turn anything into an adventure. The way he really listens when you talk, and his good, brave, generous heart.

This distance? It is more than a natural drift - it is more an intentional break. Intentional on his side, at least. Most definitely not on yours.

You don’t know why. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong…

…But you are determined to find out.

And, if Finn won’t talk to you off his own back, you’ll simply have to concoct some flimsy excuse of your own.

***

That’s exactly what you do, yourself and Finn now sealed together, alone, in the cockpit of some old cargo ship.

“You’ve trapped us in here?!” the man exclaims, voice loud and ringing with a rising panic.

“No,” you sigh, defeatedly. You don’t want to panic him - you just want to talk to him; without him running away. “You’re not trapped. Obviously, I’d never actually...” you trail off as you watch Finn urgently button-bashing on the control panel by the door, clearly pretty desperate to leave. “I just thought…” you explain, raising your voice a little to be heard over his rising and increasingly vocal frustration. “It was supposed to be a chance for us to talk.”

Finn turns towards you, all this energy coiling in his body, practically bouncing on his toes in his rush to get out of there. He looks as though the prospect of talking to you fills him with dread.

Your face drops. You should have realised this was a bad idea.

“We talked this morning,” Finn defends, weakly. Yeah, for all of two seconds. “Can’t you open this thing?” he pleads, throwing his thumb towards the door.

Fine. Whatever. If he’s that desperate to flee from you, so be it. Maybe you need to accept the fact that things aren’t the same between you anymore. Maybe never will be. Your heart aches in your chest.

Your shoulders slumping, you push the Jedi-in-training and all-round Resistance hero aside, punching the unlock code into the panel.

It beeps angrily in response.

A furrow in your brow, you try again.

“Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Finn asks from over your shoulder.

This is fine, actually. You have a back-up. Except, you pat your belt for your communicator, remembering at the same time exactly where you left it in the hangar.

“Okay,” you turn around to face him, your face locked in an apologetic grimace, hands raised in surrender. “So, we may actually be trapped now, but I would like to emphasise this was very much not The Plan.”

Finn purses his full, brown lips together, in entirely transparent irritation, an ire brewing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” you say defensively, though you note that your friend, Finn, would have found this funny -made the best of it- and the Finn is front of you now is someone else entirely.

“Being stuck here with you is the last thing I need right now,” Finn says into his hands, the words muffled, and yet their meaning perfectly -and painfully- clear.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it is?

You take a step back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and rotating quickly away to face the transparisteel window. His harshness feels so alien to you, and bitter tears sting in your eyes, which you don’t want him to see.

“Kriff. That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong,” Finn says softly from behind you, and you finally hear the familiar kindness infusing his voice. The kindness you’ve been so desperate to enjoy again these past weeks. “What I meant was... was...”

Your back to him still, you raise your arm in the air. “Save it, Big Deal. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s not talk,” you bite, your voice low and taut.

You’ve given Finn the benefit of the doubt for long enough now. Maybe this was a problem you shouldn’t try to fix. He obviously likes things precisely as they are.

Finn, for his part, hovers beside you, clearly apologetic, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you focus all of your energies on popping open the console, pulling out the wire guts, and looking for a way to open this damn door.

He may have been running away from you, but now you’re the one who wants nothing more than to get out of there.

You had wanted to talk, but all of a sudden you don’t want to hear it. You can’t take one more flimsy excuse without breaking.

***

You’d tried everything. Banging on the door, waving out of the viewports. Trying to find a hatch to escape out of. There was nothing left to do but wait for your data patch to run. You’d linked-up some wires and an old data-pad to the controls, and it was simply a matter of time before your program loaded, overriding the door panel and thus letting you out of there.

Unfortunately, the small matter of time is proving problematic. It has already been about an hour, and the screen indicates your program is only about 75 per cent through -blasted old tech- and you’re not sure how much longer you can endure this fraught, awkward silence. 

Save for your escape attempts, you and Finn still haven’t spoken, and, eventually admitting defeat, you have each sunk to the floor on opposite sides of the cockpit, your knees drawn-up to your chest and backs pressed against the walls of the cool metal chamber. Now, the increasingly cool metal chamber, as the afternoon draws on and the suns begin to sink below the horizon.

You sigh.

“Why are you avoiding me, Finn?” you finally ask, firmly, bringing your eyes to meet his. “And, I beg you. No more kriffing excuses.”

Finn’s knees are drawn-up too, and his elbows resting on top of them, fingers weaving and fiddling together somewhere in the middle as your question finds him.

He purses his lips together once more, his bright, expressive eyes brimming with trepidation, his hand coming up to self-consciously brush against the tip of his rounded nose.

Eventually, his head drops down, until you’re only looking at the top of it. He’s growing out his tightly-coiled, black hair on the top, sides closely cropped, and you idly note that the length suits him. There’s nothing else to note, as he still isn’t saying anything.

Still, when you take a step back from your anger and your boredom, you recognise all the signs of him being anxious, now that he can no longer run away from your questions.

“It’s not what you think,” he sighs, and you shake your head in continued frustration and look sharply away, up and out of the viewport.

And, in the continued absence of an answer from him, your insecurities begin to fill in the blanks. “You know, Big Deal, you don’t have to hang around me just because I’m the first person you met.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Finn’s head snap up to look at you, distress shining in his eyes. You ignore it. “If you’ve decided this friendship isn’t what you need anymore, I can take it. I just wish you’d stop bullshitting me. I deserve better than that.”

Then, you try to suppress it, but you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm. You’ve felt chilly for a while now, but you have desperately been trying to conceal the fact.

Without missing a beat, Finn slips his -Poe’s- jacket off from his shoulders, shuffling closer to you, without rising from the floor. As he shrugs it off, he reveals nothing but a white, ribbed vest underneath, tight over his toned figure, and tucked into his belt at his waist. The vest sits in contrast with the deep brown of his skin, the bulge of his cultivated muscles evident in his strong, densely-packed shoulders and arms.

This? This is precisely what you’ve been trying to avoid. You feel warmer already.

Regardless, he moves to your side, kneeling next to you, and he pauses when he gets there. Hesitates. He lifts his finger, running it ever so slowly over the textured goosepimples on your forearm. “You’re cold,” he states, his voice so deep and rich, and his touch and his proximity sending a shiver through you in an entirely different way. You’d like to argue, you really would, but he weakens you, his sudden warmth melting you quickly after his long absence, and you let him guide you forward enough that he can drape his jacket around your shoulders. It is still warm from his body heat. It smells like him.

You wanted silence, but this is the kind that you don’t like; tense, albeit in a different way.

“Thank you,” you say thinly, expecting Finn to pull immediately away again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his eyes go a little wide and afraid, even as he sets his jaw determinedly. He reaches his hand out, ghosting it slowly down the length of your arm, until he has scooped one of your hands up and flattened it in-between his own broad, warm palms.

Holding your hand.

You’ve missed that so much.

You watch Finn in gentle puzzlement, as his pink tongue nervously swipes out over his bottom-lip. And, with your eyes gently encouraging him to go on, he finally blurts it out. He finally says what he’s been keeping from you.

“I have a huge crush on you. I turn to kriffing jelly whenever you’re around me.”

Your hand suddenly becomes clammy, held in-between his. Your heart quickens.

Wait, what?

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he says, his eyes soft like distant starlight. “It’s just, I panic. I know I like to pretend I’m all smooth...” he chuckles self-consciously, that laugh sounding from deep in his chest, and oh boy, you’ve missed that sound too. You’ve missed that gorgeous pearly smile, which blooms tentatively on his face.

“Smooth?! You do a terrible job of that, Finn, no-one’s buying it,” you tease, but it’s fond, your free hand settling on top of his, and your eyes crinkling with reciprocal joy as his beautiful broad smile widens, his face full of sparkle and light.

“Oh? Okay. That’s how it is?” he laughs.

You’ve missed this. Have missed him.

That’s it? That’s all it is? He has a crush?

After a few moments, the two of you apparently basking in relief -on your part that you haven’t done anything wrong, and on his, that his confession is finally through- his smile naturally falls from his lips; however, it lingers in his eyes, that gentle starlight back again.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I just… kept messing everything up around you. I didn’t want you to think I was the biggest dumbass on base.”

“Oh, Finn, honey-” you grin, and he completes the sentence with you, nodding, and a big chuckle falling out of him. “Poe is the biggest dumbass on base.”

Isn’t that the truth?

You simply look at each other for a moment, all this starlight swirling in the space between you.

“Come here,” you say softly, finally, unable to resist, and you shuffle on to your knees so you can lean forward and give him the biggest hug, your arms folding around his sturdy, muscled form. It feels so good to close this distance, especially after so long. Especially as no-one on base gives better hugs than Finn, you are reminded, as he holds you.

“Are we... cool?” he asks apprehensively, into your shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, and you pull back from him, your hands still resting on his shoulders and his weaving under, settled around your waist.

“We’ll always be cool, Finn. It’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah?” he smiles happily. “Good, because I missed you so kriffing much. I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it, but first,” your mouth tips up into a smirk. “Can I kiss you now?”

Finn’s eyes widen in shock and he makes a bunch of noises – broken, flustered syllables and consonants, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. He’s sunk into his relief so readily, that he must have forgotten entirely to entertain the idea you might like him back.

Your hands trail all the way down his toned arms, until you slowly fold his hands into yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Play it cool, Finn,” you tease, giving him a quick wink.

He schools himself, and even as you notice a hard swallow bob down his throat, and he lets out a long, slow exhale of breath through the circle of his lips, he makes use of his classic bravado. At least, for long enough to get some coherent strings of words out.

“Yes please. Y-yeah. Kiss me. You... should do that.”

Too many words.

So, you inch forward, and you press a fleeting, light, chaste kiss to his impossibly soft lips. Just enough to shut him up, before dipping your head back, giving him time to respond.

He looks at you sweetly, in shock for a moment, but, before you know it, his lips are chasing yours with a whole new confidence, and his mouth twitches-up in a smile as he meets you again. This time, the kiss is not fleeting. This time, it is drawn-out; a slow, sensual, gradually deepening thing. He hums against your mouth, the sound low and reverberating through you, and, as the kiss grows, his broad hands slowly and safely lower you down against the cockpit floor, arranging his jacket under you so that your skin needn’t touch the cold metal - only his warmth.

When you break for air, he settles himself over you, strong arms holding him up, his eyes shining with disbelief and adoration. He looks at you in a way that says – yes, you may have been his first friend, but that, maybe, you could be his first love as well.

As he gazes down at you, your hands wind up around the back of his head, skimming lovingly over his textured, raven hair, and readying to pull him back down to you, eager to drink more of him in. To feel more of his skin against yours. However; you are cruelly interrupted by a harsh sequence of beeps, indicating that the door is finally unlocked. Finn briefly twists his head over his shoulder, confirming with a look.

“Power’s back on- we can get out of here now,” you say breathily from under him. 

“Nah,” he says, with a subtle smirk and a shake of his head, apparently not wanting to move anywhere that would shift his warm body from on top of yours. “I think we should stay here a little longer, how about you?”

“Fine by me, Finn,” you agree quickly, beaming back at him, like the moon reflecting sunlight, basking in his warm glow.

His eyes narrow for a moment, searching yours, and he rolls you both on to your sides, your thigh coming to land over him, and his warm hand begins to stroke you there, as his sweet, languid kisses continue to find you in succession, his breaths coming more quickly, his need unravelling. “Is this okay?” he asks, pausing momentarily to skim his thumb over your cheek and down under your chin. “How are you feeling?”

While Finn seems relatively calm and sure right now, you are suddenly feeling like jelly. “Shaking. Nervous,” you admit, your words trembling out of you.

He nods a little, like he could tell. Maybe he could feel you tremble against him, or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s the Force. You certainly feel like something deep and powerful is eddying between you.

“It’s okay,” Finn promises softly, his voice breath, and planting a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you want to keep going, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Your eyes shine with happy tears, and this time, when you drag him enthusiastically to your lips, your legs wrapping more tightly around him, you know that you need not be nervous at all. It has always felt right whenever he reached for you, ever since the beginning; and now is no exception. It is so much more than him holding you physically – you feel safe in his arms in every way you could.

You had missed him so deeply, not only because you have a huge crush on him right back, but also because he is your friend. And while he may not have been your first? He is certainly your best.

Finn is your sunshine, and you are endlessly pleased to have him back; to see him shining.

#finn star wars #finn x reader #john boyega #finn (star wars) x reader #star wars imagine

[citrussdance]

Cardfight!! Vanguard Overdress Unit Lore: 001 “Trickstar”

In space? or simply above the planet’s surface? Amidst that faint light, change was born.

The thin and weak “wave” became a powerful “movement” that made “that space” tremble. In the very center of that trembling “space”, “it” was the first to be born.

A head, torso, two arms and legs- as it emerged, “it” slowly took on the shape of something humanoid. Eyes, a nose, and finally, a mouth appeared, creating the shape of a smile.

From the moment “it” was born, it was filled with joy.

Whispered prayers and the wishes that preceded them, carried on the “wave” like a rushing torrent, warmly embraced its spirit and body; and ever since “it” gained sentience, certain words repeatedly echoed in its head; a careful arrangement of sounds, words that proved its own existence.

Finally, an image came into its newborn heart.

Sparkling with overwhelming brightness, a white light invited “it” to the heart of this planet’s greatest nation.

-

As far as one can see, campfires as small as ants dot the wasteland, about to go out.

“Reiyu, Zonne, Rona!” Rino calls softly, in order to not disturb the pre-dawn mood. Surrounding the fire and wrapped in blankets side-by-side, the other three give no response. They sleep deeply.

“I’ll leave them be; they walked a lot yesterday, after all.”

The four girls’ rule is that the one who could stay awake would take watch, but Rino had kept watch throughout the night by herself.

Throwing a small twig onto the fire, Rino hugs her knees.

To the side, a large egg, about the size of a young child, sleeps. To say it is “sleeping” is not a figure of speech- this hatching egg has feet and a tail, and within its body, encased in its shell, there are two (closed) eyes. This egg is called the “Sunrise Egg”.

“Fuee~ I can’t eat any more!” 

Rino laughs quietly at the unwitting Rona’s sleep talk. Rona is the youngest, and the spoiled child of the group. However, her honest dances have saved the group’s mood countless times since this journey began.

Rino’s stomach rumbles quietly.

Everyone is hungry. They chose to set out on this journey by themselves, without relying on anyone’s kindness, but even the Blaze Maidens, who undergo strict training for their roles, are in truth struggling to endure the pressures of the journey.

-- The Blaze Maidens.

The world’s oldest temple, the “Red Temple of Dawn”, lies ten days’ walk from the backwoods of the Dragonia Mountain Range in the center of the Dragon Empire. The Blaze Maidens’ role is to protect and watch over a treasure that can only be found there. After dedicating their lives to this faith, the maidens live out their lives at the temple, only rarely seeing the outside world. Just ten days ago, Rino, Reiyu, Zonne, and Rona would never have dreamed of leaving the Red Temple of Dawn.

-

“We can’t go on like this. Let’s give our thanks to this land, and leave soon.” The oldest of the party, Reiyu, had said that two days ago.

At those words, Rino, who had been fondly watching Zonne eat chicken and Rona stuff her face with sweets, had frozen.

In the first village they had stayed in, the Blaze Maidens had been received warmly. The Dragon Empire is a militaristic country, ruled by a dragonic emperor. However, it is also a civilized country that follows the tradition of the world’s oldest country, Dragonia; many of its people are religious, and priests and shrine maidens are revered. So, when the Blaze Maidens and the walking egg descended from the northern mountain, the villagers, poor though they were, had gladly broken into their winter stocks and showed them the best of hospitality. In the blink of an eye, food and presents had been heaped upon them. 

Only Reiyu had not been happy. “Remember what the priest said. We, along with Rino and the Sunrise Egg, were ordered to seek “the truth of this world” and find hope for the future to bestow upon the people. All of these things gathered here are the villagers’ very lifeline until spring. We can’t let ourselves be spoiled by their kindness.”

The normally cheerful Zonne and honest Rona, and even the reasonable Rino had become somber. They are each highly capable Blaze Maidens, who the priest had trusted to journey to the outside world. However, while they are devout followers, they are also normal girls. Having warm food to fill an empty belly, a hot bath to soothe the weariness of travel, and a soft place to sleep instead of the hard ground. . . how can one blame them for being tempted by such things? Reiyu had simply been a little more of an adult than the other three.

That night, when the village was sleeping, the four girls had stolen away in secret, leaving only a polite thank-you letter and a blazing amulet containing a blessing. To them, the honest kindness of the first people they had met on their journey had also become their first bitter experience.

-

The eastern sky begins to lighten, faintly; dawn is approaching. As the embers die out, Rino, who has drawn closer to the egg, begins to nod off. Soon, it will be time to set off towards the world of dreams.

Then. . .

Outside the circle where the maidens gathered to sleep, a white-hooded head pokes out from the “empty dimension”. From there, it turns this way and that, surveying its surroundings. The only thing it hears is the soft breathing of the girls and the egg.

“Stay asleep, just like that. Now, it’s my playtime,” it whispers, and out pops the rest of its body.

With a white hood that extends into a cloak, the body that houses “it” is stiffer than a living being’s, being best approximated as like to a doll. In the dim light of dawn, “its” white face is the only thing visible, floating in the darkness.

“I’ll help myself to this~”

One of the gold pins holding Rino’s hair up disappears.

“And this-”

The bracelet around Reiyu’s wrist is gone.

“I’ll borrow this, too, okay?”

Three glass marbles from the pouch at Rona’s hip. These strangely shaped beads are normally used to tell the future, but when the girls are bored, they serve as toys, as well.

“Oops- this one’s pretty important, hm?”

One of Zonne’s beloved giant folding fans.

Finally, “it” turns to the egg, and puts a hand on its hip, thinking. “Hmm. . . I want to play a trick on you, too, but you have nothing to steal, huh? Boring.”

“You won’t be able to steal anything at all anymore.” Zonne’s voice, trembling with anger, comes from behind “it”.

“Eh- ?”

-

Spinning this way and that, suspended from a tree, “it” cries and makes excuses. “Trickstar! I can’t believe you’d tie me up like this! Trickstar!”

“Trickstar. . . is that your name?” Rino asks.

“Probably, yes. . . since in the beginning, I only knew that word.”

“You. . . I thought it was weird that the marbles kept disappearing!”

“Oh! Those, those are pretty! I love them. Everyone looks like they’re having so much fun, playing with them!” Trickstar perks up.

“Oi, where’s your shame? Your remorse?!” Zonne, who had been pretending to sleep until then, had been able to capture Trickstar in the blink of an eye- as expected of a Blaze Maiden, as well as a prominent martial arts practitioner.

“I’m sorryyyy! It was only a little joke!”

“Stealing is not a joke, it is a punishable crime,” Reiyu warns in a tone as cold as ice. “In some towns and villages, it’s punished with an instant death penalty. . .”

“Eek!” Trickstar, still tied up, turns pale all the way to the tips of its fingers and trembles.

“Oh, Reiyu. It returned all the things it stole, and even apologized. . .” begins Rino.

“You’re always too soft, Rino,” replies Zonne.

“That’s a good thing, though!” Rona laughs.

“Very well. If you promise to never steal our things again, we’ll let you go. - However, I want to ask you two things, Trickstar.” Reiyu says. Behind her, in the light of sunrise, moons of various sizes, as well as a planet that colors the heavens, rise into the sky. “One. You are able to travel into the ‘empty dimension’. So, those bindings mean nothing.” “Mhmm. You’re right, Reiyu.” Trickstar slips out of the ropes as if they don’t exist at all, and poses with hands and legs outstretched. “Playing at being tied up sounded interesting, so I did it! This is just another prank. It was fun, right, Zonne?”

Zonne’s face twitches. At some point, Trickstar even learned their names.

“Another question. Why us?”

“Did you want our things? We’re not carrying anything valuable. . .” Rino adds.

“No, Rino. You’re very valuable and special. For some reason, when I fell to this planet Cray, I thought, ‘I have to be here.’ There are people who I’m meant to meet, and who I’m supposed to be with.”

“So, you’ve been following us for three days?”

“Ehe, so you’ve known since the beginning, Rona.”

“Wait a second. You just said that you fell, right? Are you not from this planet?” Rino asks. By the way, aliens and extraterrestrials are not very unusual to the people of Cray.

“I don’t know- I don’t remember. I mean, Rino, you guys don’t remember when you were born, right?”

“That’s true. . . Hm. This conversation is over. Go where you like, Trickstar- but don’t steal.”

“That’s just boring, Reiyu. Hey, take me with you! I’ll be useful, I promise.”

“Look, you. We’re not exactly on vacation, here.” Zonne frowns.

“I know- you’re protecting the dragon’s egg, the Sunrise Egg. Rino stands in front of everyone and prays to the egg every morning, right? Egg-kun sits back and puts its feet up, all smug. It’s really funny!”

“You saw that, too?” Rino mumbles, surprised. It had been decided at the temple that the Sunrise Egg is Rino’s egg, so she leads the prayers, too.

“Our hands are already quite full,” says Reiyu.

“Then, how about this? If you travel about half a day to the west from here, there’s a pretty rich village that’s planning to hold a festival tomorrow. There, I think you can eat and buy all the things you need without worrying. Everyone decided they want to travel on their own power, without relying on others, right?”

“Wow. . .” says Rona.

“Wait, wait. You don’t just disappear, you can teleport to faraway places, too? That’s amazing.” Zonne blinks.

“. . . Rino, you decide. This is your egg and your journey, after all.” Reiyu turns to Rino.

“Eh- ?! Ah, what should I do. . .” With the spotlight suddenly focused on her, Rino becomes flustered. Her gaze automatically turns to her egg, the Sunrise Egg.

The Sunrise Egg is already awake.

It plops over to Trickstar, and comes face to face with this strange clown.

Stare.

The Sunrise Egg stares at Trickstar.

Staaare.

The Sunrise Egg stares at Trickstar.

Staaaaaaare.

Finally, the egg headbutts Trickstar with a crash, and starts happily dancing. Trickstar dances too, drawing a circle to the rhythm. Their cheers grow, filling the wasteland campground with all the bustle of a festival. “Yahoo-!”

The four maidens look at each other.

Rino laughs and gives her answer. “Okay. Let’s bring it along, according to the egg’s guidance. May the great sun and holy dragon smile upon you.”

“May the great sun and holy dragon smile upon you.” The other three repeat the line in harmony.

And finally, the sun ascends, shining upon the lands of planet Cray. A day in the lives of the Blaze Maidens and the dragon’s egg begins.

Now that they have Trickstar, this day marks the start of a new journey.

#trickstar #cardfight vanguard #cardfight!!vanguard #overdress #vanguard overdress #カードファイトヴァンガード #カードファイトヴァンガードオーバードレス #cardfight!! vanguard overdress #kondou yuuyu #kondo yu-yu #kondo yuyu #dragon empire #translation #english translation #japanese translation

[winterxiron]

WINTERIRON    ―

ɪɴ   fallout   .

PART   I

The Flag Smashers were priority one for all the Governments and whom ever the Power Broker a little further down on that list. Where does that place Sharon Carter on the list - it doesn’t, out sight, out of mind for the American Government. Sam and Bucky agreed to play somewhat nice with John Walker and Lemar Hoskins, plus their mindless goon squad. After the ruined meeting between Sam and Karli by an over eager and no impulse control John Walker. The group split up to cover more ground of the large resettlement camp, Sam and Bucky met up in the basement of the building scanning the area. “I see nothing,” Sam started before Bucky interject. “I am looking at the same thing you are, Sam.” He stated, getting the man attention followed by an eye roll through red lens. “Ha, nice to see that the obvious part of your cyborg brain is very much intact.” Sam shot back, still pivoting around slowly taking in the room and more his software in his glass showed him the x-ray schematics of the building, revealing a subterranean layer.

 By the time he started to move towards the hidden door, few soldiers came into the area but Sam didn’t acknowledge them, passing Bucky lightly nudging him as he did to get the cyborg’s attention. While the soldier radio to John and Lemar their whereabouts. “There is something behind here,” Sam spoke in a hushed tone of voice allowing only Bucky to hear him. “Like Batman’s layer?” Bucky retorted back causing Sam’s brow to arch - so many questions and so little time. “No-yes-maybe, does it look like I have a clue?” Sam shook his head turning back to find a leaver or anything that would open a hidden door. Bucky crossed his arms straining his neck to look over at the soldiers in the corner of the room, he didn’t like them... No, he didn’t like the people ordering them about like puppets but that was besides the point. “When someone says there is another level you presume they would’ve known what it is.” Bucky huffed, relaxing his spine against one of the foundation beam, only for it to move back slightly and with that the hidden door swung open. Causing Sam to scramble back a few feet from the rusted and stale air hitting his nostrils, splattering out a cough from it tickling his airway, muffled chuckle by Bucky as he came up behind him. “Good job, pal.” Clapping him on the back of his wings. “Y-You’re w-welcome?” He hoarsely coughed out, regaining himself before making his way over to Bucky at the door. Only to be met with a metal hand placed against his chest. “Excuse-” Sam started only to be met by a stern look from Bucky, Sam buttoned up his lip and that’s when his eyes widen at the sound of muffled voices. 

Two of the to be exact, female and male at least to Bucky’s ears. Both men listened from either side of the doorway, the soldiers cautiously crept from their corner towards the middle. When the voices became more clear... “Sharon?” They whispered to one another in sync, Bucky’s expression twist in annoyance and Sam just smirked before they both focused up. “We have to get YOU back to Madripoor before the cavalry rock up.” Sharon’s voice became more clear over shadowing the sound of heeled boots on the flooring. “You’re making it sound like this was my fault.” The unknown voice spoke back only to be followed up by Sharon. “I told you to lay low and not insert yourself into the drama.” The sternness from her voice made both men look at one another slightly confused, she sounded as if she was scolding a child. Bickering of back and forth between the two people continued until they reached the levelling of floor to be met with an open hatch door. Unmistakeable, clicks of fire arms being pointed their way brought hesitation of the two still looming in the dark. “What are you doing!?” Sam snapped as the soldiers were in a half circle behind him and Bucky. “Sam!?” Sharon’s questioned loudly, having to take cover near the stairwell. “Put your guns down, please.” His voice like that of a steel rod, waving his arm out in front of the nuzzles. “Sharon, just come out we can talk about this.” Sam tried to reassure her, there was hush whispers exchanged between Sharon and the mystery person. “Fine, get the goon squad to stand down.” 

―

Once the soldiers had stood down, their guns to their sides and further in the middle of the spacious area. Shuffle of feet on the ground from the direction of the hatch, drew the eyes of Sam and Bucky. “You gonna introduce us to your new friend?” Sam broke the silence that had fallen and James just stared intently at the young man, familiar features... His head bevelled to the left before flopping over to the right - he knew him. “You’ll have to give me time to explain.” Sharon said, her eyes shifted from the duo to the soldiers before back to the duo with a sympathetic look on her features. Before turning to the young man, protective hand resting on his shoulder despite his age and who he truly happens to be. “Hate to break up this rather merry reunion but we have fondue waiting for us. And also not one for introductions as you should know who I am.” Tony said to the two with a shit eating grin but the last part he turned to face Bucky more then Sam. Bucky’s brow furrowed in the direction of the younger male. “Fondue?” Was all Bucky could manage to say out loud, causing Sam to his hit his arm. “Really, dude. That’s all your cyborg brain got?” Sam tried to not roll his eyes into the next century at the man of few words who stood next to him. 

Tony glanced over his shoulder at Sharon, pout forming on his lips. “And these are the guys you and Pepper told me about...” He glance back at the two, those puppy dog brown eyes through the lens of those thick rimmed glasses, judgement towards them. “Robocop over there doesn’t even know what a fondue is.” Fingering Bucky out of the two, Sharon shot Tony a look to shut up. “Now is not the time to antagonise them,” Sharon said, firmly causing Tony to pipe down a bit. Sam’s googles clocked in on the faces, finally and on his lens popped up a photo of Tony Stark causing Sam’s mouth to fall to the floor. And it seemed it finally clicked to Bucky who this was. “That’s impossible.” At the suddenness of his voice, Sharon couldn’t allow either men to say his name... not here and not now. Sharon shared eye contact with Bucky, pleading to not continue on slowly turned sympathetic there was only one out which caused Bucky to shake his head. Tony stood there as if reading the silent tennis game between Bucky and Sharon. “No longer can I resist the call of fondue which means, gents we have to cut this playdate short.” Tony said with a shit eating grin, digits taping against his wrist watch in the same move brought it over his hand - covered it in a metal gauntlet. With that his palm raised up sent out a pulse in the room with a ear pinching noise that brought everyone but Sharon to their knees.

Bucky’s metal arm reached out to grab at Sharon’s ankle to stop her, Sam was trying to stand up with his hand pressed on his ears and Tony moved towards Sharon, tripping over Bucky’s arm in the same which put a stop to the ringing in everyone’s ears. But Tony was quick enough to spring onto his feet, while everyone was getting too Sharon stomped on Bucky’s arm which caused him to release her ankle, quickly helping Tony to his feet. As they run back to the hatch, Sharon slowed passed Sam. “You know where to find me.” Sharon’s words rushed together but hushed at the same time only for Sam to hear them. “Sharon! Fondue!!” Tony yelled at the hatch waiting for her to come and finally when she did, he shut the hatch door. Melting it with his pointer finger tracing around the seems of the door before following Sharon down into the tunnels.

#winteriron #ironwinter #winteriron fic #tony stark #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sharon carter #iron man #winter soldier #look at sharon and tony wearing matching shirts #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #fic #its not great #but hey #bucky barnes fic #tony stark fic #tony stark x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x tony stark #a bit all over the place but hey #sorry for spelling mistakes my head hurts #not great but i'll fix it up

[meloncholy-words]

A Snake’s Skin

Based on the idea that Deceit, in all his old-timey, fancy nature, can make the other sides do A Fluster™ by showing even the slightest bit of skin. I don’t remember who had the original idea, but I’m turning it into a fic. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and am finally doing it, especially now because I need my comfort. I’m ditching all new information because I don’t wAnNa ThInK aBoUt It.

Ship: DLAMP

Warnings: Other than Dee and Remus, none, I need CoMfOrT

Deceit yawned. He was bored. The others weren’t giving him enough attention. Patton and Virgil were baking in the kitchen, Roman and Remus were doing God knows what in their room, and Logan was reading, right next to him, and not giving him any attention. Which was, by the way, illegal! But then, Deceit had an idea…

He made a few glances towards Logan, before shifting around slightly, before he struck. He let out a loud, exaggerated yawn, lifting his arms up as high as he could, letting his shirt lift up ever so slightly. He took a small little peak at his boyfriend, and inwardly smiled to himself.

Logan’s face was a bright red, his eyes were wide open, and his jaw had dropped. He stuttered a little, before he let out a squeak and lunged forward, pulling Deceit’s shirt down.

“D-Dee,” he stuttered out, voice unusually high, “I get that we’re alone, but now isn’t the time for that.”

“Oh, my apologies,” he said smoothly, a small smirk on his face as he spoke,” I was just yawning. See, I’m just so bored here, with nothing to do and no one to do anything with.”

“I see,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. His face had gone down in hue, but his cheeks were still fairly dusted in a vibrant red, and his voice had lowered back down to normal. “If that’s the case, perhaps we could watch a documentary and cuddle?”

“That sounds excellent!” he said, clapping his hands together and smiling a wide, happy smile.

Logan pulled up Netflix and threw on a documentary about the earth and its shape. They fell asleep in each other’s arms before it reached halfway through.

~~~~~

It was an unusually hot day in the Mind Palace today. Not unbearable, but definitely noticable. While the others went outside to play in the pool, Deceit had stayed back to stay in his room instead. However, that decision was made after breakfast, and he was hungry. He left his room in favour of heading to the kitchen, an “evil” smile gracing his lips when he peeked into it. For you see, there was Patton, making lunch for everyone. He wasn’t dripping wet, but he was certainly not dry. He was also there, standing so innocently, in nothing but some swim trunks, flip flops, and a thin, wet tank top. This was a big contrast to Deceit, who was covered in layers upon layers of clothing. This wasn’t uncommon in their household, though.

‘Hm, it has been a while since someone’s paid attention to me..’ the sly snake thought. He hid himself back back around the wall, before adjusting his hat slightly, and then striking.

Deceit made his way around the corner, dramatically sighing as he removed the hat he’d just readjusted.

“My my, it’s so hot. Oh, hello there, Patton.” He started lightly fanning himself with his hat.

“Oh, hi Dee!” Patton said in his normal giddy tone. “Yeah, it is. But we have some lemonade and iced tea, if you need any!” He let out a soft giggle, before returning to making the sandwiches.

“That sounds like a good idea, but-” he had unclasped his cape at this point, and had it folded as he placed it down onto one of the dining chairs, “-I don’t think that’ll be too helpful.”

Patton let a glance towards his direction, before slightly tensing and looking back away, a light red tint on his freckles cheeks at the sight of some of Dee’s neck. This caused Deceit to smile again, like the evil child he is. He reached towards the top button on his shirt and popped it off.

Walking up to Patton, as he began pulling his shirt collar more outwards, he leaned over his shoulder, and asked, “Oh, what kind of sandwiches are you making?”

“Oh, you, know just some simple ham sandwiches, maybe some apple sli-” Patton let out a loud squeal, nudging deceit away as he looked in the opposite direction. “D-Deceit, that-that’s highly in-inappropriate!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Puffball,” he said softly, “it’s just sooooo hot, I couldn’t help myself.” He shuffled himself a little closer, and whispered lightly, “You wouldn’t want me to overheat, would you?”

Patton made a strangled sound before pushing past Deceit grabbing the sandwiches, yelling out, “ITWASNICESEEINGYOUBUTIGOTTAGONOWBYEHUN-” and fleeing the scene, leaving Deceit to cackle by himself.

This really was just too fun.

~~~~~

Deceit sighed to himself. Roman had invited him to join him in the imagination for a fancy ball. Of course, he blended right in, using his lawyer suit because it made him feel special. What didn’t make him feel special was how Roman had decided that his kingdom was more important than him. Now, that was fair, it was very understandable. But that didn’t mean that he was happy with it.

He glanced towards Roman, and felt a twinge of sadness. He felt lonely. He took a sip of wine as the gears in his head began turning. Finally, they clicked, and he felt his evil smile return. Right next to Roman was a long food table. That’s where he’d gotten the wine. There were some pastries stacked up neatly just beside him. He knew what to do.

Deceit, very gracefully, made his way over to the pastry rack. He made it clear that he had no intention of acknowledging Roman, at least, not yet. He gathered up two pastries, and made a, not big, but eye-catching, act of spilling some wine onto his gloves. Not too much, but a reasonable amount.

This certainly caught the eye of Roman, who was still giving the rest of his attention elsewhere. However, what really caught his attention was when Deceit, very slowly, removed his stained glove. This lit up Roman’s face a noticeable amount, not the colour of his sash, but enough. He quickly excused himself from his company, and grabbed Deceit by the arm, leading him out to the balcony.

“Deceit, we are in public!” he hissed into his ear. “You’re already wearing less than usual, was that really necessary?!”

“But Roman,” Deceit exclaimed, feigning innocence, “my glove! It got dirty! What did you expect?”

The prince, whose face had somehow become closer to his sash, pulled out a single extra glove.

“Stay here, put this on, and I’ll be back with another pair for you.”

“You’re gonna leave me out here.. Alone?” Deceit let his lip slip out slightly, and his eyes grew bigger. Yes, he was absolutely resorting to puppy dog eyes.

Guilt gently washed over his face, and he softly said, “I’ll be back fast, I promise.” He gave Deceit a light kiss on his forehead and disappeared back inside.

A pair of thick, orange gloves were the ones that Roman decided would best for his King Snake. However, when he exited back out to the balcony, he blue screened. Not only was Deceit’s hat off, but both of his gloves were off, too!

Noticing the prince, Dee opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by gloves smacking into his face. Roman had also returned back inside in a flustered fit, which made him giggle. His boyfriend was just too cute sometimes.

~~~~~

Virgil and Deceit were cuddling on the bed together, even though they should have been sleeping. They’d both had a hard day, and had taken to each other’s embrace. However, instead of sleeping at normal times, they’d stayed up well past 2 am to discuss conspiracy theories, and how believable they were. It was a fun game they’d like to play. One would say a theory they’d heard and start giving off some details about it, and then they’d both announce if they thought it was believable or not. If they both agreed that it was either believable or too crazy, they’d continue. If not, they would try convincing the other onto their side. They would carry on when they had both ended up on the same side.

Now, they’d both intended to sleep, as this game always started. This meant that they were both in pajamas, which is a significant decrease in the amount of clothing Dee would normally wear, though he was still quite covered. He had loose, baggy sweats on, thick, fluffy socks, and a long sleeved shirt. This contrasted with Virgil, who had on boxers and his (unzipped)jacket. And nothing else. Deciding he wanted to continue his game of flustering, he started hatching a plan. Virgil was used to seeing Dee like this, so him being less layered than normal didn’t make him red. However, this was the least amount of coverage that he’s seen him in. Which means…

“Ok, ok, fine, it’s believable, jeez!” Virgil exclaimed. At this point, they’d given up on being quiet. “Ok, now, you’re turn.”

“Hmmm… What about… me showing skin.”

Virgil looked into Dee’s eyes like he had gone mad.

“Least believable one yet. Next!”

“Oh, is that so?” Dee said, a smile in his voice. He snapped his fingers, which turned his long sleeved shirt into a short sleeved one, and his baggy sweats into baggy sweats, but with the ends rolled up, exposing his ankles and a little bit of his calves to the world. This made Virgil begin to turn red.

“DECEIT!” he screeched, hiding his face. “I know it’s late and you may be a little bored, but SERIOUSLY?! Nowisntthetime!!!!” This got Deceit laughing, and he snapped his original clothes back, cuddling right back into Virgil.

“I know, I know, sorry hun. I just had to prove you wrong.” Virgil huffed at this, lightly smacking the smaller man’s chest.

“That was mean!”

That got him laughing again.

~~~~~

The sides had cuddled up on the couch, watching Disney movies together. Remus had passed on the offer to join them, pretending to gag as he threw himself onto the floor to watch by himself. Virgil had fallen asleep after the first few movies, leaning onto Patton, who cuddled Deceit up into his lap immediately. Logan held Roman in his arms, and they were both also leaning on Patton, with Roman beginning to drift off but being determined to stay awake.

Deceit looked around at his boyfriends and smiled. Seeing them go into a gay panic was nice, but this was even better. He was content with them being like this instead. It made them all happy.

And that was all that he wanted, really.

#dlamp #ts dlamp #ts deceit sanders #deceit sanders #ts logan sanders #logan sanders #ts patton sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil sanders #virgil sanders #ts remus sanders #remus sanders #ts roman sanders #roman sanders

[amydancepants-peralta]

10 and 24 for the festive prompts :)

(please excuse me while I hang my head in shame, for this was 1: received last year, and 2: still didn’t manage to appear before Christmas this year.) 🤦🏼‍♀️ Best laid plans really do be elusive, huh?  @ Anon, I'm sorry this is so late, and I hope you’re still around! ♥️ 

Prompts - 10: I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween! and 24: Secret Santa is bullshit. 

(for the sake of this story and b99′s vague timelines, this is set pre-manhunter and post-casecation).  (ao3)

all the lights are shining (so brightly everywhere) 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Amy sighs, tapping her feet - sadly, trapped in a curled up shoe, and does her best to ignore the jingle that comes from its dangling bell.

Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Christmas Carols have always been a favourite of hers, forever singing along to the melody despite being told by many that she really shouldn’t.  They were joyful and uplifting and reminders of everything wonderful about the holiday season.  But tonight, she’s been standing post for three hours, listening to Z-List celebrity covers of sacred songs of hope; and as a result has spent 85% of her time hatching a plan to find the source of the music and put an end to everyone’s misery.

Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, fa la la, fa la lahhh …

Jake’s off-key singing voice filters in through her earpiece, and a tiny smile finds it’s way onto her face.  

“Troll the ancient yule-tide carol, fa la la la laaaa, la la la laaa! … Wait, troll?  That can’t be right!  Hey Ames, do you think trolls celebrate Christmas?”

Knowing that answering would blow her cover, Amy remains quiet; nodding slowly both to the beat and her husband’s question as the track fades away and a new atrocity begins.  

Seriously, she needs to find out where this music is coming from.  

From underneath her undercover position as Head Elf of Candy Cane Lane, Amy shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to tug down the tinsel edged skirt that hovered just a little too high for her liking.  She wanted to burn the bra she had chosen to wear tonight (digging into her ribcage like it did), save for the fact that it was very expensive and very beautiful, and very much worn this evening with the sole purpose of seducing her husband.

Work had descended into pure madness in the past fortnight, with both her and Jake’s schedules descending from holding relative similarities to polar opposites.  And maybe it was the surplus of romantic movies on every single TV channel, or the scores of advertisements reminding her that the holiday season was for being together with loved ones (for Jake Peralta was most certainly Amy’s Loved One) - either way, Amy had begun to miss spending nights alone with her husband something fierce.  

Tonight’s plan had been so simple, it had barely required a binder.  Wait until it’s nearly Jake’s finish time, don sexy lingerie, cover up with comfy clothes and go pick up her unsuspecting husband from work.  Let him unlock the door when finally home, then jump his bones right there on the couch - giving Jake just enough time to discover the red lacy set and look at her the way he always manages to do - like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.  Then, sexy timez.  Lots of sexy timez.

And it had all been working so well - until she’d shown up at the precinct unannounced (Jake being too distracted to notice the text she’d sent him), and immediately found herself getting wrapped up in a sting her old squad were devising.  

In a spark of true evil, one of Brooklyn’s most elusive drug runners - Art Akemi - had invented a new way to dodge any of his drug shipments from being discovered; deciding to build candy canes around the narcotics so that to the unaware eye, they would appear completely innocuous.  

Unfortunately, one of his most recent handovers had gotten mixed up with actual candy canes, resulting in several innocent members of the public ending up in hospital with mysterious drug overdoses.  It had taken the 99 and their neighbouring precincts days to piece together Akemi’s plans, and just this afternoon Rosa had been given a lead that suggested a handoff with the kingpin and one of his henchmen would be happening at Santa’s Village that very evening.  

It was brazen, to set up an exchange of illegal narcotics in a public access area - particularly, one frequented by children and families alike - but also completely on brand for someone like Akemi.  The squad needed to work fast, and work smart; running through the finer details of their mission when Amy had arrived.    

And yes, perhaps her FOMOW had reached an all-new peak as she listened to the detectives speak, and perhaps she hadn’t really thought about what she was volunteering herself for - but the next thing Amy knew she was Holly the Christmas Elf, toes squeezed into surprisingly curly shoes as she fielded questions from children and waited for any signs of wrong-doing.   

It has been twenty-five minutes since Santa had disappeared to ‘feed the reindeer’ (aka disappearing to the back docks for a quick drag of a cigarette), and just as Amy was beginning to wonder if a search party needs to be called, she feels a gentle tug on her hand, looking down to find a little boy no older than five gazing up at her with awe.

“D’ya think Santa is busy making da presents?"

His eyes are wide - filled with the kind of awe that every child seems to get when they are lulled by the magic of Christmas - and as Amy crouches to match his diminutive height, she can’t help but notice how the unkempt curls on his head remind her of a photo with a similar aged Jake that Karen had once shown her.

(He had been mid-discovery of a fairy garden, one built by his Nana and immediately claimed as his own, and the sheer joy in his face had made Amy’s heart swell, even years later through the faded colours of an oft-cherished photograph.)

“You know, I bet he is.”  Scanning the crowd for that familiar mixture of red and white but coming up blank, she turns her attention back to the little boy.  “Santa’s magic like that, don’t you think?”

The child’s nod is so enthusiastic the tiny curls on his head begin to bounce, turning quickly as his searching father calls out his name.  “Just a little longer, and you can tell him all of your wishes, okay?”

“Da elf said Santa’d building da presents Daddy!”  The child runs back towards his father’s outstretched hand, and Amy gives the adult an understanding smile as he lifts his son back into his arms.  From his undercover position at a nearby popcorn stand; Jake catches Amy’s eye as she returns to her earlier position, giving him a tiny smile when he throws her a wink.  

The topic of parenthood - of them trying to have a baby, one day - had been mentioned by both more than a few times since their anniversary; and the regular use of the word when rather than if ignited a sense of hope in Amy that made her stomach flutter every single time.  While the enormity of it all still scared Jake - still scared Amy, if she were to be completely honest - what always seemed to remain after each conversation was the understanding that even if it scared them: together they’d figure out how to get through it.  

(Last month’s arrival of Miguel’s baby girl Adamaris, and the sight of Jake cradling her in his careful arms, had definitely not helped, playing on a loop in Amy’s mind for several days after their visit.)

“Nothing beats a bit of Santa magic, hey Santiago?”  Jake’s tone is light and playful, and only serves to remind Amy just how much she’s missed talking to him these last few weeks.  

Rolling her eyes slightly, she tucks her head downward, playing the pretence of adjusting her costume as she speaks into the hidden mic.  “Ha ha, Peralta.  Santa is magic, especially to cute kids like that one.  No way was I going to be the one to burst the Santa bubble.”

With a stuttered gasp, Jake slaps a hand against his chest, and a passing stranger gives him the side eye.  “Wait a minute.  Are you suggesting that Santa is fake?!”  

“Santa is real, Peralta.  As is this very real mission to take down Akemi.  Time to focus up.”  Terry’s firm tone breaks through the earpiece, busting into Jake and Amy’s conversation, and a sheepish grin breaks out on Jake’s face.  

“Right you are, sarge.  This is Super Serious Santa Shutdown Situation.”  Shoving several pieces of popcorn into his mouth, Jake waits a beat before continuing.  “Ames wasn’t wrong, tho.  That kid was a cutie.”

The unspoken addition of but ours will be cuter lingers between them, and Amy feels her skin warm up under Jake’s faraway gaze.  

Maybe this bra was going to come in use after all.  

Rosa’s voice cuts through the unsaid, her tone steady as she moves in closer from her position at a nearby payphone.  “Heads up - Santa’s back.  And it looks like they’ve swapped out their player.”

Immediately switching into detective mode, Jake shields his face from the new Santa’s sight as he passes, already very aware of earlier (unsuccessful) run-in’s with the kingpin.  “That really looks like Akemi.”  

“Santiago, can you get close enough to confirm?”

Handing out Christmas tree shaped cookies to the children milling around her position, Amy glances up just in time to catch the replacement Santa as he walks into the village.  With the cocky swagger of a man who rarely pays any consequences for his actions, this version of Father Christmas looked paler and far more arrogant than the man wearing the costume earlier.  

Pushing past the waiting children with barely any acknowledgment of their tiny hellos, New Santa pauses on his way to his plush red throne; snapping his gum and giving Amy a very jolly (read: creepy) once-over with his eyes.  Glancing quickly in Terry’s direction, she gives a subtle nod.  Akemi’s case file has landed on almost every detective in New York’s desk at one point or another, and she’d recognised that hard gaze anywhere.  

“Well, well, well … don’t you look good enough to sit atop my Christmas tree.”

Acutely aware of their audience, and knowing that the red and white striped stockings covering her legs would definitely be restrictive if she needed to go full ninja on Santa’s ass, Amy quickly chooses to plaster on a bright and shiny grin.  “So glad you’ve made it back from the North Pole, Santa.  We’ve got lots of excited children just bursting to see you!”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Akemi leans in, an unwelcome mixture of tobacco and sweat washing over Amy, and it’s all she can do to not recoil in disgust as he lowers his voice.  “I’m only interested in one thing, lady, and once I got it I’m outta here.  But don’t you worry, there’ll be plenty of room on my sleigh for you.”

“Ok.  I don’t give a damn about any Christmas magic, Ames.  If he tries to make you kiss him under that mistletoe, I swear to god I will punch Santa right in the face.”

“Cool it, Peralta.”  Terry’s clenching jaw is almost audible in his response, and Amy takes a slow and calming breath, safe in the knowledge that her squad most definitely has her back. 

“Right.  Yep.  Cool it.   Cool cool cooling it.”  Each member of the team watches from their position as Santa saunters over to his seat, throwing several finger guns to waiting mothers as he goes; and Jake lets out a snort of disgust.  “So … has everyone gotten their Secret Santa present organised yet?  Rosa, you need some shopping tips?”

“No.  Secret Santa is bullshit.”

“It’s a fun holiday tradition that you are definitely participating in and if you picked my name I’d really love a voucher for that sneaker store on 28th.”

“I don’t have you, Peralta.”

“Yep.  No problemo.  Just saying.  In case you do.”

To her right, Amy notices Terry’s unmissable frame break through the crowd.  “Heads up, guys.  Looks like Santa’s buddy has found his way into the queue.”  With his wooly beanie and scores of shopping bags clutched in his hands, their sergeant blended in relatively easily as just another father doing some last minute panic shopping; but they all knew one flex of his oversized muscles would break that facade fairly easily.  

A silence falls over the comms as they watch Santa breeze through child after child, giving them barely any attention as his target draws closer; and slowly both Jake and Rosa close the gap from the other sides.  

Pulling out a poorly wrapped parcel and handing the gift to Akemi, the unshaven man at the front of the queue feigns surprise when Santa reaches into the sack next to his throne, handing the supposed stranger an oversized bag of ‘candy canes’.  

“There’s the exchange.  Boyle, can you confirm you got the footage?”

“With a beautiful slow zoom that really captures the thrum of festive anticipation hovering amongst the crowd, sarge.”

Cringing slightly, Jake shakes his head at Charles’ description as his eyes follow the bag of candy canes, their new recipient now walking at a steady pace towards the exit.  “We’re going to lose this guy if we don’t move now.”  

“Go, Peralta.  Diaz, you run backup.  Amy and I will take care of Santa.”

With a grin, Jake breaks into a fast walk, already focused in his pursuit.  “Alright, taking down a bad Santa in a public environment.  Now it feels like Christmas!”

“We’re going to wait until Akemi has left the village, Peralta.  You know, try not to break a bunch of children’s hearts?”

“You do you, Terry!”  

*

*

There are still remnants of festive glitter in Amy’s hair as she and Jake walk up the stairs of their apartment building several hours later, both of them slightly weary from the hours of paperwork and debriefing that took place after Santa’s Village.  

“Boy, bet thats the last time you come to the precinct and pick me up on your night off, huh Ames?”  The apology is obvious in Jake’s tone, and Amy glances over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile.  Even if it hadn’t been in her original plan, she still got to spend the night hanging with her husband (although in a slightly different capacity than originally planned), and she was choosing to count that as a win.  (A small win, but a win all the same.)

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m really sorry you got pulled into all of that, babe.  I just didn’t see your message in time, or I would have … hey, Ames?”  The touch of his hand against her forearm is gentle, pulling her in with the quiet strength she knows her husband to possess, and Amy turns towards Jake without hesitation.  His eyes search her face, immediately seeing through her concealed defeat, and he really is the only one for her.  “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  I just …” she feels a blush rush over her cheeks again, suddenly feeling ridiculous as she thinks of how to divulge her secret plan.  The underwire from the damn bra digs into her skin again as she squirms, and if tonight has taught Amy anything, it’s why lingerie like this is only designed to stay on until your partner rips it off seconds after reveal.  

“Babe?”

“It just feels like forever since we’ve had a night at home, just the two of us.”  Jake’s brows knit, and Amy leans in to rest both hands against her husbands chest.  “And I know that work has been crazy lately, and that it’ll eventually calm down again, I just … I’d sorta planned on tonight going differently once you were home.”

“Oh god, and instead you ended up in a glittery elf costume with a creep leering at you.”  Left hand slapping against his face in shame, Jake shakes his head in obvious frustration. 

“I mean, we can mainly blame my FOMOW for that, babe.  It doesn’t matter, really.  If I hadn’t been there, you might have gotten home even later so when you think about it, it’s way better we - mmfph -” the rest of Amy’s argument stops in it’s tracks as Jake pulls her in for a kiss, the gentle but insistent press of his lips against hers casting any other thoughts far to the side. 

The familiar touch of his hands as they roam against the outline of her butt causes Amy to melt entirely in Jake’s arms, resting her arms against his steady shoulders as her fingers slide into his hair.  This - these tiny moments where the world seemed to fade away and all she could feel was Jake - was what she’d been craving for weeks.  

Jake sighs against her lips, letting her tongue slip into his mouth as he shuffles ever so closer to her, and maybe he’d been missing this just as much as she.  

“So,” Jake whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, leaning in to brush his lips against Amy’s once more.  “Time to get this night back in track.”  Another kiss.  “What kind of plans did you make for us, Santiago?”

“Lets just say … the lingerie I’ve got on under here is going to blow your mind, Peralta.”

“Going to blow your mind, title of our sex tape.”

Amy nods, biting her lower lip as she steps out of Jake’s embrace, gesturing towards their apartment.  “But it’s also really uncomfortable.  C’mon, let's get inside before it ends up in the dumpster.”

Jake’s footsteps echo behind Amy’s, hands landing on her hips as she digs for the keys.  “I’m declaring it now, Ames.  Tomorrow night we’re both leaving early and staying in for movie night at home.  Phones off, popcorn, everything for the full movie experience.  We can watch Die Hard and Love Actually and Nightmare before Christmas …”

Amy’s nose crinkles at the last movie, unlocking their front door and tugging her husband through as it swings open.  “Didn’t we watch that last one for Halloween?”

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween!”

“Jake …”  

“Christmas is literally in the title, babe!”

Pulling him closer, Amy takes a leaf out of her husband’s handbook, silencing him with a definitely not PG rated kiss now that the risk of being discovered by a neighbour had slimmed to none.  

Jake’s arms wrap around her middle in response, holding Amy close as her fingers begin to trace the edge of his buttons, and she lets out a sigh of satisfaction that finally her initial plan was coming to fruition.  

Next time, though, she might add a sub-section into the binder about potential diversions, and how to avoid them (not join them) - FOMOW be damned.  This stuff was way more fun.

#my writing #very delayed #peraltiago Christmas #pre-mac #sorry anon #undercover peraltiago taking down bad guys #b99 fic #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fluff #jake x amy fic #not tagging the prompts as its too long ago

[anjanettexcordonia]

The Spare Chapter One: Maldives

Book: The Royal Romance A/U

Rating: Mature (18+); NSFW; some language 

Characters/Pairings in this part: Liam x MC; mentions of Liam x OC; Leo x Madeleine; Drake; Maxwell 

Word count: 3,286(+/-) Future chapters will hopefully not be this long. 

A/N: Some characters belong to Pixelberry. 

Tags: If you would like to be added or removed please let me know. Only tagging those that specifically asked for permatag. 

@yourmajesty09​ @gkittylove99​

“Are you ready for this Brother? You know if you want to back out now, the jet is ready just in case.” 

Leo smirked at his younger brother. “ My brother, the cynic. I love her Li and I know one day you’ll find someone. You have to let what Maria did to you go.” Liam rolled his eyes. 

Two hours later they arrived at the cathedral. It was the royal wedding of the century. Leo and Madeleine were the epitome of royalty. The country couldn’t have been more proud for the reigning monarch and his new Queen. The reception followed the ceremony and the happy couple danced the night away without a care in the world. 

King Leonardo and Queen Madeline were set for their month long honeymoon while Liam handled the country. 

“Listen little brother, if you need anything ask Dad or Regina before you call us. We have a duty to produce an heir and I fully intend on making that happen.” Leo winked at Madeleine. “Liam, don’t hesitate to call.” She rolled her eyes at her husband. “The King here is getting a little ahead of himself, I think.” “Don’t worry about a thing while you're gone.” Liam kissed Madeleine on the cheek and shook Leo’s hand. “Enjoy marital bliss lovebirds, don’t worry about a thing stateside.” 

It was smooth sailing running the country while the King and Queen were away. Liam worked with Constantine to secure Cordonia’a place in the UN. He also managed to get Leo an entrance in the International Trade Exchange. After the royal couples homecoming ball Liam and Leo sat in Leo’s study with a tumbler of scotch in each of their hands. “Thanks for everything you have done, Li.” “That’s what I am here for, Your Majesty” Liam said, with a sarcastic grin. “Sometimes I hate this shit but Madeleine loves it and I love her.” Leo shrugged. “Any news on an heir yet?” Liam asked, as he sipped his drink. “No, we decided to wait a while. Adjust to our positions. What about you? You ready to get back out there?” “Where is out there? I’m good where I’m at.” Liam said, smoothly but he knew he wasn’t fooling his older brother. “Oh here Li, Maddie booked you a villa in the Maldives for a week as a thank you. Take it, blow off some steam. Maybe you’ll meet someone.” “I wish you all would get off my damn back. I’m the spare. Who cares if I’m single? Between you, Connie, Regina and Max, I can’t get a minutes of fucking peace. I’m glad you married Maddie. She’s the only on that doesn’t give a fuck. Learn something from her.” Liam snapped, “I’ll take the vacation, but only the get the fuck away from here.” “Stop being so emotional Li, we just worry about you.” 

A month later, Liam boarded the royal jet destined for South Asia. He decided to take the trip alone with no security detail. The time away from everyone he felt would give him some perspective over where his life was headed. He was the spare after all. Not much was expected of him except to show up when needed. He wasn’t needed to run a country. He couldn’t choose any job he wanted, he was still a figurehead of the Royal family. He didn’t even have a girlfriend. 

“My son, I do hope you find a woman worthy of you soon. You may not be king, but its always beneficial to the stability of the monarchy to establish heirs.” Constantine’s words played on repeat in the back of Liam’s mind. 

“Sir, sir, we’ve arrived.” Liam woke to the attendant shaking him awake. Liam departed the jet and headed to his private villa. Good taste Maddie. The Maldives was quiet this time of year. Not many tourists which Liam was excited about. He wanted time alone. His villa was the most secluded. No one would be bothering him, he hoped. The villa was a large one bedroom bungalow with a glass bottom floor. He could see straight to the bottom of the crystal clear water below. Liam got settled in and decided to stay in and relax with a glass of scotch and a book George Orwell’s 1984. 

Tap Tap Tap 

What the fuck was that? Liam sat up. He was dozing off, the sun outside was setting. He looked down. 

Who the fuck is that? 

A girl was tapping on the glass floor beneath him. She was in a light blue string bikini with scuba gear strapped to her. 

Tap Tap Tap she tapped more frantically. 

She pointed to the hatch directing him to open it. He ran over and opened it and she climbed out. She took the regulator out of her mouth and unzipped her vest. “Ugh sorry. I was following a fish and got stuck. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m Camilla. Most call me Cami.” She stuck out her free hand for a handshake. Liam just stood in place frozen. He couldn’t move or speak. 

This is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen! What did she say her name was? Camilla? Say something you idiot!! 

“Ummm okay.. I’ll go. I’m only further down the beach. It’s okay if I use the front door?” Liam nodded his head, still unable to speak. Cami started towards the door. “Wait, I’m sorry, I’m Liam. I just didn’t expect to see someone, so beaut… coming through my floor” he ran to open the door for her. “Here I’ll carry that for you.” He reached for her oxygen tank. “No no I got it.” “It’s the least I can do for my rudeness.  Are you within walking distance or we can drive?” “Walking is fine, as long as that’s not too heavy for you?” Cami winked and pointed to her vest in his hand. Liam laughed nervously unsure of what to say. “Lead the way, Camilla.” Cami felt a tingle down her spine at the way her name fell off his full lips. “So, Liam? Right?,” he nodded his head, “what brings you to the Maldives, business or pleasure?” “Neither really, relaxation, alone time, what about you? Are you a local?” “Local?,” she laughed, “I wish, no I am here for R&R like you. Alone time? You’re on vacation alone?” “Yep, just me. That weird huh?” They made it to her bungalow. Six bungalows. Liam thought to himself. “Well this is me” Cami said as they stood at the end of the bridge that led to her front door. “Cami, where have you been?” a girl that looked strikingly like the one standing in front Liam. “Sorry that’s my sister,” Cami whispered to Liam, “I’ll be there in a minute Ans.” Ansley didn’t listen. She came striding right next to Cami. “Who is this?” Ansley asked out loud. She looked Liam up and down. “He’s cute, look at this chiseled abs Cam, mhmm..” “You’re engaged stupid. Go inside.” Cami snapped at her sister. “I’m sorry Liam, you’ll have to excuse my overzealous twin sister.” “Oh it’s fine, she likes my abs. Maybe I should be shirtless more often,” Liam winked at Ansley. “Oh my God, Cam if you don’t kiss him I will.” “Go the fuck inside, Ansley.” Cam whispered, her face turning bright red. Ansley laughed and went back inside. “Well, thanks for not letting me drown earlier, I’ll see ya around Liam.” Cami went to grab her stuff and go inside, but without thinking Liam pulled her into a soft kiss. Cami pulled away. “Umm thanks bye.” She ran inside leaving Liam standing at the end of the bridge. 

“Shut up Ansley. Do not say a fucking word.” Cami slammed the door to her room. She threw herself down on the bed. Her world felt like it was spinning. She couldn't help but think how soft and sensual the kiss was. She had never felt anything like it. 

Liam walked home alone with his thoughts. His hands dug into his pockets as flip flops kicked up the sand behind him. He headed towards the beach to clear his thoughts. He didn’t know what took over his body when he kissed Cami but whatever it was he liked it. The way she tasted, mint mixed with salt of the ocean, and slight smell of coconuts in her hair. He sat on the beach and listened to the waves. It had been nearly 5 years since Maria had broken his heart. He closed himself off after that. He decided being alone was easier than getting hurt. There was an instant connection with Cami. He couldn’t deny the electricity between them. Liam called it a night and headed back to his bungalow. He checked his phone. No new messages. He laid on the bed with a thud, flicked the light off and drifted into a deep sleep. 

Bang Bang Bang “Liammmm are youuuu in there?” Bang Bang Bang 

Liam rolled over with a groan and checked his phone. 3:17am 

Bang Bang “Open Uppp” 

“Who is it? It’s three o’clock in the morning!” Liam yelled. He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the door still groggy from sleep. “Cami?” He said, completely alert at the sight of her. “Heyyyy Liiiiaamm.” Cami slurred, “Can I come in?” “Are you drunk Cami?” She pulled a bottle of champagne she was holding behind her back and handed it to him. “Want some?” She asked, leaning against the door frame. “Sure. Come in.” He ushered her inside and to the large sofa. He grabbed a water for Cami and poured himself a glass of the champagne she brought. “Maybe have some water first.” He handed her the bottle. “So what’s bring you over?” “That kiss.. I thought we could.. try it again..?” Liam looked up. She crashed her lips onto his. She forced his lips apart and into his mouth. The electricity radiated from their bodies. Liam fisted her blonde locks with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her on his lap. Liam picked Cami up as she wrapped her toned, sun kissed legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed and laid her down on her back, their kiss never breaking. Cami ran her fingers down the elastic of his boxers. “Wait Cami, we shouldn’t. You’re drunk.” Cami knew he was right. Liam rolled on his side next to her. He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his arm around her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Mmm.. moist.. tight.. Liam woke from his dream. He still felt the sensations he was feeling while he was asleep. “Fuck Cami” he moaned. Her tongue swirled around the tip of his growing cock. She licked the beads of precum. Liam pulled the sheet off so he could watch her work his member. She looked him in the eyes as she took him all the way down her throat. Liam had never been so turned on. “Come here. It’s my turn.” Liam pulled her up and kissed her passionately as he rolled her to her back. He kissed and nipped at her already peaked nipples. He nipped her hip bones and sucked leaving his masks behind. He slid a finger through her moist folds. He brought his mouth to her bundle of nerves. Cami almost leaped off the bed at the feel of his tongue swirling her clit. He continued the lashing of her clit and pushed a finger inside. He pumped in and out curling his finger against her most sensitive spot. He could feel her let go at the pleasure of his fingers. He climbed back up hovering above her on his elbows and kissed her until her lips were swollen and bruised. He grabbed a condom out of the night stand drawer. “Let me,” Cami said seductively. She leaned forward and unrolled the condom to the base of his length. “Fuck you make not want to to wear this, I want you so much Camilla.” He lined himself up with her dripping center. He thrust deep and slow and allowed her to adjust. He groaned at how tight she felt around him. She wrapped her legs around and rolled her hips to meet his thrusts. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked as he thrust inside her. He felt her walls start to flutter the harder he thrust inside her. “Cum for me Camilla” his words were all it took for her to come completely undone. She screamed his name as his thrusts became more frantic. He gripped her hips digging his fingers into her skin as he erupted inside her. He leaned down and kissed her deeply as pulled himself out of her. He laid next to her and pulled her into his arms. Neither one of them could find the words to say. 

“I leave in a week.” Cami finally broke the silence. “Me too” Liam whispered, “Spend the week with me.” “Okay. My sister is leaving early. Wedding emergency.” 

They spent the next week enjoying each other. They learned everything they could about each other. Liam told her about his family in Cordonia. His brother and his wife. His father's retirement. She told him about Graduate School and the pressures she was facing from her family over choosing a job. When they weren’t talking they were learning everything they could about each other’s bodies. Kisses, licks, bits, moans and screams. 

Six days later after spending the night exploring each other, Liam and Camilla laid in on the glass floor completely naked looking down at the fish below. “Stay one more week with me, Cam” Liam whispered. “I already extended my trip, but it’s just one more week and I have to go,” Liam pulled her into his arms,“Every second with you is everything, you are everything, go on a date with me?” “Okay. But our dinner options may be limited due to the isolated island.” She spoke softly. “Leave it to me my love.” Liam felt her body tense at her words. He didn’t know why he said it. Oh my God it’s been a week you idiot! He screamed in his head. 

Cami woke the next morning to find Liam’s side of the bed empty and cold. She threw on Liam’s tshirt that was on the floor from the night before and headed to the kitchen. A note was leaned against the coffee pot full of freshly brewed coffee for her. 

                                                  Hey Baby, 

                         Enjoy your coffee & meet me at the beach. 

                                                        -L 

                                     P.S.

                                    Wear something you can get wet. 

Camilla smiled and finished her coffee. She took a quick shower and brushed her teeth. She threw on an all white cheeky string bikini and a pair of Ray Bans and headed down to the beach. As she got closer to the beach she saw a large white tent set up with the the corners tied open. Liam was sitting on a thick blanket with pillows surrounding him and a glass of champagne in his hand. 

“Liam?” Camilla whispered. Liam jumped up at the sound of her voice. Her voice was a siren song in his ears. “Hey Baby,” Liam leaned down and kissed Cami on the cheek, “join me?” They drank, ate, and laughed together. Cami felt herself falling. I love you, damn those three words, you leave in two days Cami. Get yourself together. “Liam, we need to talk.” She lowered her head avoiding eye contact. She knew if she looked in his eyes she would get lost, better yet she would drown in those deep pools of mysterious blue. “I leave in two days. I go back to reality on different ends of the Earth.” “I know Cam, we can try can’t we? I can visit New York, you can come to Cordonia.” “No Liam, it’ll never work. We both have obligations.” Liam lifted her head to meet her eyes. “Give me today tonight.” Liam kissed her so deeply it left her dizzy. They spent the rest of the night into the early morning making up for time they didn’t they had lost. 

The day came for them to leave their tropical paradise and their love for the moment. Neither had spoken a word to each other. Neither finding the words. Cami sat on the bad after packing her suitcase. Her flight boarded in an hour. Liam’s flight didn’t leave until later that night. “Cami, can we stay in touch?” Liam sat next to Cami and laced his fingers through hers. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I just.. It’s time for me to go..” Cami stood up. Liam stood up and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m not saying good-bye Liam,” she whispered as tears welled up in her eyes. “Then don’t say anything at all,” Liam wiped the tears away as they fell down her cheeks, “I”ll drive you the airport.” Liam lifted her into his arms and carried her to his black Range Rover parked in the parking lot near the villa entrance. Cami stared out the passenger window without saying a word. Liam held her hand in his lap tightly as he drove. He dreaded having to watch her board the plane not knowing whether he would ever see her again. 

They pulled up to the tarmac and Liam jumped out and ran around the car to open the passenger door for Cami. Cami leaned forward and buried her head in her hands as the sobs took over. “Why is this so hard after only two weeks, Liam?” Liam pulled her hands from her face. “I don’t know. We will see each other again. I can feel it, my love.” She got out of the car and he wrapped her in one last kiss. A kiss filled with love and sadness. A kiss that made their world stop turning and everything around them melted away. Liam pulled away and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her nose like he was memorizing every inch of her features. “My love,” Cami interrupted Liam, “Don’t say it. Will you text me?” “Every day.” Liam watched as Cami boarded the plane. She waved before the plane doors shut. He watched as her plane took off and disappeared above the clouds. A familiar feeling he hadn’t felt in two weeks, what was almost a distant memory flooded him. Loneliness. She already felt like a figment of his imagination. Liam drove back to his bungalow to pack. He passed by Cami’s bungalow. An emptiness he didn’t recognize creeped into his heart. He walked into his bungalow and pulled out his phone. He needed someone to talk to. Someone to tell him what to do. 

                     “Drake.. Ya it’s Li. Ya sorry I took off for two weeks                                     without telling you.. Everything’s fine. I’ll be home tomorrow. So I’m                                             calling because I met a girl..” 

Liam told Drake everything about Cami. How they met and her sister. How they had an instant unexplainable connection. How he thought he was in love. How he thought she was the one. The One. 

“Listen Li, Go after her. Don’t be a fucking idiot. I’ll be on the next flight to New York, ugh apparently Max too. Do you know where she lives?” Drake asked. 

“I don’t even know her last name. She has a twin sister named Ansley and she’s graduating from Columbia Law next week. And she’s from Manhattan, New York. That’s kinda all I got. I have her number but I am sure she doesn’t want me chasing her down...” 

“I’ll get Bas on it. I’m sure he has plenty of time since Maddie locked Leo down,” Drake laughed, “we’ll find her.”

#choices pixelberry altenateunivers theroyalromace princeliam kingleo trr fluff liamrhys cordonia

[brunettebitchh]

𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛

by. brunettebitchh

excuse any bad grammar/spelling and punctuation please.

genji x reader x hanzo (smutshot) *slow beginning*

Warnings - sex, blood play, spanking, choking, threesome, biting, public, cream pie, double penetration, humiliation, spitting.. etc.

Y/n’s POV

I was sitting in my dorm room practicing the meditation that Zenyatta had taught me to help better control my powers.

I opened the book he had given me and lit some candles. I breathed in deeply and sat criss cross applesauce. I put my hands in the traditional “meditation pose” and closed my eyes focusing on my breathing.

I felt myself relax and my joints intense as I sat there just focusing on my breathing. I had a small smile on my face as i felt myself reaching my inner zen.

A loud bang from the garden outside disrupted me but I pushed it off and continued to mediate in peace.

I heard several more bangs and felt the ground shake but I completely ignored it until one of my paintings fell on the ground and the glass shattered.

I snapped my eyes open and looked at the broken picture frame on the floor with glass everywhere.

I puffed my cheeks out and slipped on slippers to go yell at whoever disrupted me.

I walked towards the garden and called out

“Brigitte, why can’t you use the training room like a normal person” I walked into the garden and didn’t see brunette

Instead I saw Genji pinned on the ground with an arrow shoved in his face

I stopped for a second feeling a pit of anxiety strike through me.

‘Oh god it’s Hanzo’ I thought and looked up at the stone cold man

He didn’t glance at me. He continued to point his arrow at Genjis face

“Don’t go hurting our new member on the first month” I said and shoved Hanzos arrow out of the way

“I’m sorry Genji” I said and held out a hand for him to grab

He held onto it and I helped him to his feet.

“If you want to kill each other, do it quietly. You owe me a new picture frame” I said with an irritated tone

“And don’t let Winston catch you or else you’ll both be dead” I said and walked away

I decided to go to out kitchen knowing that I won’t be able to resume meditation in peace like before

I knew the whole brother feud thing that Genji and Hanzo have and the whole thing about Genji being in black watch for a period of time. I don’t care if they kill each other, but if they do they better leave me out of it and do it quietly

I went into the kitchen and saw Lucio speaking to Mercy and the other support members.

“Hey n/n. Come sit with us!” Mercy said to me and waved me over

I sat down next to Brigette and watched her tinker with another new device.

“What are you making?” I asked and she replied

“I’m trying to make it so Tracers pulse bomb will cause a bigger explosion”

“How’s it going?” I asked and watched the bomb spark

“Great” She smiled at me and I smiled back

“Do any of you have a dollar or two i can borrow? I forgot my money in my room” I asked and Lucio handed me a 5

Zenyatta hovered over to us, “How’s the meditation going Y/n?” he asked me and I sighed

“It was going great until dumb and dumber tried to kill each other but ended up killing my picture frame”

“Genji and Hanzo?” Ana asked and I nodded

“Don’t be so harsh on them. Especially Genji, he’s having a hard time dealing with Hanzo. They’re both really great guys once you get to know them” Mercy told me

“I’ll give them a shot. Thank you for the money Lucio” I left the table and went over to one of the vending machines

Winston and some of the other members came down to have lunch.

“Ah Y/n good to see you” Winston called out to me and took his usual banana from the front and sat with Tracer

I waved at him with a smile and tried to put the money in the machine. It declined it a couple of times until it eventually went in.

I had enough to get a candy bar, some chips and a cup of ramen.

I pressed the buttons and grabbed what I ordered from the hatch. I held the stuff in my hands and turned around to go boil water

I stood still for a moment as an arrow was shot towards me. The arrow whipped right past my face and hit the vending machine only a centimeter away from my face

I heard gasps and I slowly turned towards the arrow to see the familiar blue tint.

I felt anger ignite inside me. I grabbed the arrow and ripped it from the machine. I left my food on the table and gripped the arrow in my hand

I left the cafeteria in search for Hanzo. I found him and Genji fighting in front of the building. I stepped forward and shoved the arrow in Hanzos chest

He looked at me angrily and held the arrow in his hand

“You’re lucky i don’t shove that thing through your flesh” I spat at him

He glared at me and I glared back

“This is the second time today you both interrupted me. You broke my picture frame and you almost punctured your arrow through my damn head. Get along with each other or i’ll make you” I tried to walk away again but Genji grabbed my forearm

I turned around feeling more irritated by the second but it softened a bit when Genji started to speak

“I am sorry for the inconvenience I have caused you” he apologized with a slight bow and I felt a little shocked

“No it’s okay Genji you didn’t do anything..” I said realizing how different the brothers are from each other

Hanzo stared at me from afar but looked down at the ground

I sucked in a sharp breath and bit my tongue

“How about i help you get along?” I said and wanted to punch myself in the face

Hanzo “tched” at me sounding unamused

“It will make the team grow better if you get along with one another” I said and Hanzo stared at me with his normal stoic look

“I’ll do it” Genji said. We both looked at Hanzo, his look faltered as he looked at us

“Please. It will be for the greater good, Hanzo” I said looking up at him

He sighed, “Fine. Only for the greater good”

I smiled.

“Meet me here tomorrow morning after breakfast” I said and left them

It’s been a couple of weeks since I started to try and make them get along with one another. It was a bumpy start but now their fighting is only once a week or so.

I sat in the garden meditating. It was around 2 in the morning so whenI heard the sound of footsteps i became alarmed.

I peeked my eyes open and saw Hanzos silhouette in the darkness of the garden staring at me 

“We’re not supposed to meet on Saturdays” I said and motioned for him to sit down with me

He sat down with me awkwardly and stared at me

“What do you need Hanzo?” I asked and i heard him breath in deeply

“Do you remember what happened all those months ago?” He asked me and I felt my stomach drop

“You’ll have to be more specific” I kept my eyes closed and tried to calm my raging heartbeat

“I know you remember. Those two months of us going on dates to fancy restaurants. Those days we spent with one another. What happened to them?” He asked. I felt my eyes starting to water from the anxiety and the sadness

“I don’t know what happened to them. After you found out that Genji was alive, you shut me out.” I said and i heard him pat his finger on his knee

“It’s not that i stopped loving you Hanzo. I know that’s what you’re thinking. I did love you and I knew you were struggling but I decided it would be better if you were alone. You’re just a past love”

My eyes snapped open as I felt my body get pinned to the floor. I looked up to see Hanzos face only inches away from mine

“You knew I was struggling so you left me alone? And then you claim you loved me” He shook me slightly

“Because i knew i couldn’t help you! You wouldn’t let me help you!” I yelled back at him and he gripped my wrists

“Because I was scared Y/n! I was scared to lose you like a lost my brother, and I guess i did” He let go of me and backed away with a soft sigh

I laid on the ground shocked for a second. I sat up and looked at Hanzo who was staring at the bush beside him biting his lip

I sighed and leaned in hugging him around the shoulders. He tensed under my touch but eventually slouched down and hugged me back

I rubbed his exposed arm and sighed into his neck

“Just give me one more night. One more night to prove it. To prove that i still love you” He said quietly and I bit my lip

“Hanzo.. Are you asking to have sex with me?” I asked feeling the same pit from earlier only get bigger

He stuttered a little bit and cleared his throat. “Yes. But only if you’re okay with it”

I debated if i should or not

“Y/n, i know that you have an attraction to Genji.” My breath hitched

“W-What?” I said a little bit more than confused

“The way you look at him, it’s the same way you used to look at me when you first came to overwatch.”

I backed away from the hug and looked down at the ground

“Just one more night Hanzo” I said and he nodded

I felt my face flush red as i reached for his pants.

He helped me take them off and i stared at the tent in his boxers.

I leaned down slightly and placed my hands on his hips tugging at the band.

I pulled them down and his erection sprung out. I gulped and held the base of it in my hand while i placed my lips on the top of it.

I spat on the tip and used my hand to rub in the saliva. He sighed and leaned his head back with his mouth slightly open

I took the tip into my mouth and started to bob my head slightly. he pushed down on my head with one of his hands to go deeper and i gagged and went back up a bit

we continued this process of him pushing my head down and me gagging until after one more push he released inside of my mouth

i lifted my head and had my mouth open slightly. i gagged a little at the texture but swallowed it down with a little wince

“Oh i missed that pretty little mouth” He said and grabbed my chin and gave me a kiss on the lips

“Y/n?” I heard and i pulled away from the kiss and turned around

I saw Genji staring at us from afar. I started to shake in embarrassment as i stared back

He had his mask off and his black spiked hair was poking out of it.

“I heard a commotion so i decided to check it out, but i guess you’re fine” He turned around to take his leave but i quickly got up and grabbed his hands

“Wait no. Don’t go” i said and he turned around quickly. he stared down at me with his face only an inch away

“Maybe, well- if you want y-you could join us” I whispered and felt my cheeks grow hotter

He didn’t reply and i looked away at Hanzo who was staring at us in the darkness.

My heart rate increased and I let go of his hands and cupped his scarred face. I leaned in and closed my eyes giving him a gentle kiss.

He kissed me back and wrapped his hands around my waist and held onto my hips. I pulled away and stared into his eyes for a little bit. I broke away from him and pulled him over to where Hanzo and i were sitting

He sat down and avoided looking at Hanzo and just stared at me.

“Well um-“ I said not really knowing what to do now

I felt Hanzo slide his hands on to my thighs. He gripped them and pulled my lower body closer to him.

I slid down on to my back with my legs on Hanzos shoulders. He grabbed my pants and pulled them down and off of me so my legs were exposed

He placed his hands on my inner thighs and opened them slightly. I felt him open his mouth against my skin and start to bite me gently all over my thighs and calfs

Genji looked down at me and placed his hands on my face rubbing little circles for a couple of seconds. He then slid them down to my clothed chest. He unbuttoned my night shirt and slid his hands inside of my bra

He groped and squeezed my breasts and eventually he started to pinch at my nipples.

He unhooked my bra from the front and leaned forward to suck on my erect nipple while pinching on the other one.

Hanzo continued to bite at my legs which only made the sensation in my core grow.

I felt him pull back and then something cold ran across my thighs then my stomach

I sighed and leaned up to see a tiny blade in Hanzos hand as he rubbed the dull part on my skin. He flipped the blade and ran the sharp part into my skin which made me wince

Genji looked up at Hanzo and then back at my face. He put his hand on top of my head and cradled it. He leaned down to kiss me in hoping to distract me from the slight stinging pain of the knife running across my body.

Genji pulled away when Hanzo was done and under the faint moonlight i saw the red liquid seeping out of the cut.

Hanzo took his fingers and dipped it in the blood. I felt him write symbols on my skin.

I moaned quietly feeling the liquid run across my body and on to my sensitive buds. Hanzo took his bloody fingers and squeezed my nipples inside of them making me tense up a bit from the pain.

Genji moved his hands to my mouth. He punched it open and looked down at me.

I watched as he opened his mouth slightly and a trail of spit came from it. He spat in my mouth and the warm texture hit my tongue. I swallowed it and looked up at him with want in my eyes.

I felt Hanzo move to take the rest of the clothes i had on off of me. He pressed his tongue against my clit and I opened my mouth in shock

Genji ran his fingers across the cut and stuck them down my throat making me taste the metallic liquid along with his cold fingers.

He pressed on my tongue and watched as my legs shook from the feeling of Hanzo rubbing and abusing my bundle of nerves.

I felt him stick two fingers inside of me and start to pump in and out while occasionally curling them inside of me trying to find my g-spot.

He pulled his fingers out of me and crawled up to my face. He shoved Genji away and Genji took his hand out of my mouth with an offended noise

Genji went in between my legs and put them on his shoulders.

Hanzo looked at me with a smirk and whispered in my ear

“You don’t think Genji just came here on his own do you?” He asked and my eyes widened as i looked at him

He wrapped his hand around my throat and started to apply light pressure. I looked down at Genji who was staring at me in a way of asking if what he could do was okay

I nodded at him and I felt him rub the tip of his dick against me. I closed my eyes and looked up feeling him push in slowly until he was all the way in.

I opened my mouth to moan but Hanzo constricted my airways tightly. Genji moved his hips slowly at first but he quickly picked up the pace until he was at a rhythm that was most comfortable for us.

He moaned quietly under his breath and Hanzo smirked at me one more time and gave me a little kiss on my cheek. He released his hold on my neck and sat me up so I was in Genjis lap

Genji stopped thrusting for a moment and hugged me breathing heavily in my ear.

I felt Hanzo line up with my back entrance and heard him spit on it. I clenched slightly and Hanzo rubbed my back and ran his fingers through my hair as he slipped inside of me.

I dug my nails into Genjis back and Hanzo snuck his hand around to cover my mouth so i wouldn’t make any noises to wake up the entire headquarters.

Genji kissed and sucked on my neck and rubbed circles on my hips with his robotic hands.

Hanzo slid all the way in and i felt tears prick my eyes from the pain of being stretched out.

From the angel i was in i could feel every pulsating vein from Genji.

Genji moved his hands away from my hips and Hanzo took his hand off my mouth.

Genji gripped my thighs and kissed me as he started to thrust up inside of me. Hanzo also started to thrust with him. I bit down on Genjis lip and drew blood. I licked and sucked the blood off of it and continued to kiss him

Hanzo snuck one of his hands up to my breast and squeezed my nipple while the other one rested on my ass. I felt a hard slap on my behind and my eyes shot open.

I heard Hanzo chuckle and smack me again. I moaned against Genjis lip. He moved one of his hands and started to rub on my clit. He rubbed it slowly in circles which made my legs shake out of pure pleasure.

I felt myself start to pulsate from the overstimulation I was getting from the both of them. I noticed the sun was starting to come up and it hit the garden making it easier to see everyone

Hanzo spanked me again and I cried out and tightened my grip on Genji. Genji moaned quietly too and gripped my thigh with his one hand while rubbing my clit fast.

I felt his dick start to pulse inside of me. He slammed upwards inside of me until he hit my g-spot. My mouth opened and my eyes rolled back as I was getting railed by the both of them

Hanzo lifted me up by my hips and slammed me down on to them. I could feel each and everyone of their pulsating veins hitting the inside of me.

“I’m-I’m gonna” I moaned quietly and bit my hand trying not to scream.

After one more thrust inside of me I came. My eyes rolled backwards and my whole body shook from the mass amounts of pleasure my body had just gone through.

Genji thrusted quickly inside of me and let his warm seed inside of me.

I moaned at the feeling and leaned down on to him. Hanzo kissed my shoulder and pulled out. He started to jack himself off and eventually he came on my back.

I breathed heavily and felt Genji pull out of me. Hanzo got up and put his clothes back on and he helped me get dressed as well.

Genji and Hanzo took me back to my room and helped me wipe off the dried blood and semen that was on my body.

Hanzo helped me bathe and Genji made me some food.

After my bath and i ate they laid me down in my bed and patted my head

“We’ll be back later N/n” Hanzo said and kissed my forehead

“Rest up” Genji said and hugged me tightly

They left my room and I turned on my side feeling a slight pain in my hips and thighs. I got comfortable and was about to fall asleep when i noticed my picture that Hanzo and Genji had broken was in a new picture frame

I smiled and drifted off to sleep..

#smutshot #fanfic #reader insert #wattpad #overwatch genji #overwatch #overwatch hanzo #kinky mature #fiction

[cassieschaosdimension]

The First Train Ride

The first chapter of Snake Befriending Lion by Bookdragonfanish on AO3! Please feel free to check it out to leave a comment or kudo if you haven't already!

*THIS IS NOT EDITED YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!*

Eleven year old Draco Malfoy stands on Platform Nine and Three Quarters hoping for a glimpse of the boy who lived. He, like everyone else in the Wizarding world, had grown up hearing his name. The story was one of legend and he wondered if Harry remembered it all. He was interrupted in his thoughts by two rambunctious red headed boys who brushed past him laughing loudly. He heard his father give a sniff of disapproval.

He pitied the boys even though he knew nothing about them. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was notorious for making sure none of his enemies were around to stop him. Draco had always wondered about the company his parents kept, much preferring to stay in his room whilst they had any visitors at all.

"Draco darling," that was his mother. He sauntered over to where she was and listened to what she had to say. "Draco, Remember no matter what happens at school, your father and I love you very much. We will write you as soon as we get home and eagerly await your owl. Chin up, back straight. Malfoys and Blacks do not slouch."

Nodding his head, Draco says "Yes mother. I love both of you too. And I can't wait to see the castle with the lake and my classes. Mum, do you think people will like me? What if I can't make any friends? I don't want to hang out with Blaise or Crabbe and Goyle or Pansy. They're mean and stuck up to people."

"Just be yourself darling and remember what I told you. Go see your father." Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, formerly known as Black, was a thin woman who demanded respect when she walked into a room. No one ever knew what she was thinking, but one thing they knew was she loved her family dearly. She would do anything to keep her son safe and away from harm.

Draco walks over to his father. "Draco, while you're at Hogwarts please try to remember we are not like the others. We are of noble blood and we must be treated as such. Do not let others get you down. You are a Malfoy and the name of Malfoy has demanded respect for centuries. Do not mess it up. Have fun at Hogwarts, but do not forget what I have told you. Get on the train.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy did not have the best childhood and when Narcissa became pregnant he vowed to protect his son from harm. He did this by only letting him intermingle with those of his own kind. He made sure his son had a normal childhood. Well as normal as he would let him.

After hugging and kissing his mother and shaking hands with his father Draco runs excitedly onto the train waiting to see if he could make any friends before he even got to Hogwarts. After looking into one compartment on the train he shies away from that one. It had really tall, really loud people in it! He didn't want that at all.

Another compartment had only girls. His only experience with girls his own age had been Pansy and he wasn't eager to find out if all girls were like her. She was enough to deal with. He wanted a group of guy friends. Crabbe and Goyle did what he said because his father was the boss of their fathers. They weren't his friends. They had to do whatever he said and he didn't like it. He remembered asking them if they could come out on the moors with him to look for gnomes at four. Crabbe threw an absolute fit. Goyle had to drag Crabbe after Draco as he flounced off to the moors. Draco was extremely put out, but when he looked back and saw the two of them lumbering after him, he brightened up.

Another memory he had was Christmas when he was seven and he wanted to play in the snow after the meal. Crabbe and Goyle were stuffing their faces and didn’t want to leave the food. He went to complain to his mother. What happened next was what he expected, but he felt guilty about it. His mother went over to their mothers and practically demanded their sons play with him. Draco only wanted some real playmates. That was the year he realized he might never have real friends. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t as smart as he was so he could never have the stimulating conversations he had with his mother over their daily afternoon tea.

They weren’t going to have genuine fun with him. This is when he learned he could make the two boys do his bidding. He started to turn from the carefree happy boy he once was in the open into a cold hearted, manipulative person who closed off his emotions to please his father. However, he did keep some of himself when he snuck down into the kitchens for a late night talk with the house elves. They were his only real friends growing up besides his mother.

Whenever Pansy and her parents came over she was so mean to the poor house elves. She was always talking to them as if they were the gum on the bottom of her patent leather flats. The way she ordered them to take her outerwear was shocking to Draco. As she grew up, he watched her parents not able to say no to her. She got everything she asked for. It was sickening for him to watch. Once she got to ten years of age, Draco was spending all of his time with Crabbe and Goyle because two buffoons were better than one spoiled brat. Draco always went and apologized for her behavior to the elves in the dead of night. The house elves were sad to see him go off to school, but they were excited too.

"Excuse me. Coming through. Lee has a tarantula for us to look at. Budge along." It’s the two rambunctious red headed boys who had brushed him going onto the platform. When they get to Draco, their happy looks sour.

The one on the right looks at the one on the left and says "Pardon me your Highness. Will you let us pass to get to our compartment?" Draco doesn't like the tone he uses. He isn't doing anything wrong. The train hasn't even started to move yet!

"Oh yeah," Draco presses himself up against the wall to let the two pass. He doesn't like these two and hopes he won't have to interact with them in class. They looked older, definitely not first years. In fact, all of these people looked a lot older than he was.

Draco was starting to get scared and started to stumble across the long, velvet carpeted, hallway separating the compartments from the platform.

With each peek into a compartment, he starts to worry. He had yet to see any people who looked like first years. At one compartment he sees Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy and immediately lurches past with his head down.

Shaken up at seeing them, he steps into a random compartment and is relieved to see a round faced brown haired boy with a toad sitting next to him. This boy looked like a first year like him.

"May I sit down?" Draco asked politely.

The boy looked to Draco and jumped in surprise. "Yes... yes you can. My name is Neville ummm, Neville Longbottom and this is Trevor." He gestured to the tod sitting next to him. "Sit down and…” He looks at the window with a blush on his cheeks and wide eyes. “Ummm, make yourself comfortable. Please um, please make sure you close the compartment door so Trevor doesn’t escape.”

Grinning at the warm greeting, Draco complies. He sticks out his hand and says, "I'm Draco Malfoy. It's really nice to meet you Neville! I hope we can be friends!"

At the name Malfoy, Neville shoots up in his seat in alarm and starts to look around as if an escape hatch will appear so he can disappear. "M-mal-malfoy?! As in the Death Eaters?!" He started to fidget and panic.

Draco looks at the poor boy in utter confusion. "Former Death Eaters. Are you okay Neville?"

Eyes wide in fright, Neville grabs Trevor and huddles at the furthest edge of the compartment from Draco, as if he has a disease. Draco wants to cry. Here is a first year boy who looks terrified of him because of his name. He doesn't understand why Neville is petrified. His parents weren't Death Eaters anymore and they only did it because He - Who - Must - Be - Named made them! All he wants is a real friend!

Draco on the verge of tears, turns to go. As soon as he opens the door he's met with a mane of brown, frizzy, bushy hair. He falls backwards in shock and hears a whimper from Neville.

"Hello. Everywhere else is full. They're about to depart so would you mind letting me into the compartment? That would be wonderful." The bushy haired girl says with authority. "I would like to be seated when the lurch is felt.” Pushing past an astonished Draco with only an “excuse me”, she falls into the just vacant seat Neville left only moments earlier.

She pushes past him and Draco stands up; when he's turned around the scene he looks at is chaotic.

Neville stands up to leap after Trevor, who with the door open, makes his way, hopping faster than Draco expects towards freedom.

All else forgotten. Neville screams "Grab him!" The bushy haired girl lunges for the toad and misses. Now it's Draco's turn to redeem himself in Neville's eyes. He too lunges for the toad and manages to grasp his left hind leg before he falls flat on his face, his grip loosening on the toad who hops away unaware of the chaos he has caused.

Neville's face is distraught. "My great uncle Algie gave me Trevor when I got accepted into Hogwarts! I’m a pureblood you see and most of my family believed I was a Squib for the longest time until I was eight. Uncle Algie pushed me off the Blackpool Pier.” Gasps are heard throughout the compartment. “Don’t worry. I bounced all the way down. Uncle Algie was so pleased he gave me Trevor! Now, can we please go after him?”

Draco and the girl exchange concerned glances. Draco knows that any Wizarding family will have almost all of their family members accepted unless they're a Squib and he's certain his family tree doesn't have any Squibs.

"You're a pureblood?" Draco cautiously asks, accidentally falling onto the girl who just sat down as the train gives a lurch. He hasn’t looked at the family tree since his father forced him to glance at it when he was six. Draco strains to hear Neville’s answer, but with the train moving steadily now, there’s no way to hear Neville at the volume he speaks at.

The girl huffs and moves to give Draco room to sit and he smiles gratefully at her. He's never seen her before and she seems to give off the same air he does. He wonders if she's a pureblood from another country. As she speaks again, he realizes she doesn’t know a thing about the Wizarding community in Britain and the surrounding areas.

"Oh purebloods! I've read about them. They're the silly witches and wizards who think that half-bloods and Muggleborns are scum. I find that absolutely atrocious as I am a Muggleborn myself," the girl turns to Draco. "My guess is you're a pureblood?"

When he nods she starts to lecture him. "You all should be ashamed of yourselves! I read that if you guys didn't marry outside of your circle you would have died out! The mindset is completely rubbish and shouldn't even be put into practice. And at a school no less!"

Neville and Draco look at her in shock, eyes wide and face awash with horror. For such a tiny girl she can inflict fear into anyone with that tone. "I'm Hermione Granger. And what House do you hope to be in? Personally I want to end up in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor as Slytherin seems filled with selfish and mean people and Hufflepuff seems filled with pushovers."

At this Draco swells. "Excuse me! My whole family has been in Slytherin for centuries and I can tell you we are not selfish and mean people! We care for the greater good!"

Neville seems to shrink into his corner again at the last three words and Draco instantly regrets the words he unconsciously let spill from his mouth. He wants Neville as a friend and now maybe he won't want to be his friend!

Hermione turns towards him so fast her hair slaps him in the face. "You sound like Grindelwald! He sounded like you! Are you a supporter of He Who Must be Named?! They were both awful men! How can you sit there saying that when they did such horrible things!"

An even greater fear starts to creep into his eyes. These two do not like him. He is only repeating what he's heard his parents say! Should he say that? The words pop out before he can stop them. "My parents taught me that and I'm sorry if that was wrong all I want are real friends for once! Please give me a chance!"

Hermione looks at Neville and walks over to him. They converse in hushed voices. Draco's heart begins to sink. Will they give him a chance to be their friend?! All he wants is a real friend he can count on! He doesn't think he wants to be a Malfoy if this is what the name gives him. Why did he have to be born a Malfoy?

The waiting is agonizing. It seems like forever when they suddenly turn to him and Neville says, "How do we know you're not lying? Your mum's sister made my parents insane! "

Hermione rubs his back reassuringly and looks at Draco. "Okay, we don't trust you, but we are willing to give you a chance because we believe you can be good at heart. You get one chance. If you mess up, we won’t be your friend anymore. Now... please help us find Trevor. He's special to Neville and he doesn't want to start Hogwarts without him. Please help us look for him."

Draco senses a wonderful opportunity and stands eagerly with a frantic nod and wide grin. "Where do you want to start? Should we split up or stay together? Personally I think we should stay together because all of those people out there are scary."

The two stare at him in shock. They were not expecting him to jump up so suddenly and agree wholeheartedly.

Hermione says split up and Neville agrees, but then Draco points out no one will tell him anything since almost everyone knows who he is. Finally it’s agreed Neville will go on his own and Draco and Hermione will ask together.

Neville heads off to the left towards the front of the train. Hermione and Draco head towards the back of the train.

In the first few compartments they check, the students seated will only tell Hermione if they saw Trevor and ignored Draco completely. He wants to cry. Is the Malfoy name really making people not like him?! But they don't even know him! How are they supposed to know they don't like him if they don't know him?!

The last compartment holds two boys: one very red headed and one with round glasses and black hair. Draco hangs back behind Hermione’s hair as she asks the boys about Trevor.They respond no and turn away from the two toad hunters. The red headed boy pulls out a wand and Draco inches closer to see what spell he’ll utter. He’s watched Pansy wave her wand around since she went to Diagon Alley the day after she got her acceptance letter. He didn’t watch her because he didn’t want to associate himself with her and her ways. His mother made him promise not to use his wand until his first class because he could hurt people and he agreed.

The red haired boy says something about rats, daisies and yellow. As expected, the rat does not turn yellow. Hermione scoffs and then fixes the black haired boy's glasses.

When the red haired boy introduces himself as Ron Weasley, Draco wrinkles his nose. He can't help it. His father says the Weasleys are blood traitors and Mugglelovers. He was always taught they were bad, but now he's not so sure.

Then when the black haired boy says his name is Harry Potter, Draco surges forward. As he comes into view Ron turns away in disgust and he deflates a little bit. He's going to have to be careful in how he says things. "Hello! My name is Draco Malfoy and I'm also looking for Neville's toad. I'm assuming since this is the last compartment he's not here. Hermione, I'm going to head back to the compartment to see if Neville found him."

Ron stares at him in shock. “You’re a Malfoy? But you’re nice?” Turning to Harry, he whispers audibly, “The Malfoys were the biggest supporters of You - Know - Who.

With a smile and wave goodbye he leaves the three of them stunned into silence. The smile falls off his face as he trudges with a heavy heart towards the compartment to put his robes on. He realizes he should only stick to the people he has already met and he vows to steer clear of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy for as long as he can and since they'll be in Slytherin like him it'll be hard. He'll manage; he always has.

He puts his robes in in the empty compartment and waits for Neville and Hermione to come back. Hopefully they will since their trucks are here. Smiling to himself, he stares out the window, already imaging what fun things he can do with his new friends!

#draco malfoy #draco pov #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #eleven year old draco

[cloudbattrolls]

Just Come Home

Ullane Wistim || Crown Clinic || Some Nights Prior

At first everything had gone on as close to usual as it could. She’d taught Cheran to do a few of Thrixe’s duties, let Friday handle more of the lab work despite her anxieties (it had gone surprisingly well, if anything she was a bit jealous of the bee-fly troll’s efficiency), and changed the clinic’s listing to temporarily only accepting emergency cases.

Queenpin was right about needing more staff. The robots could only pick up so much slack, and given she and Thrixe were also expected to take care of local company interests outside the clinic, things were getting stretched - and she didn’t want to overwork her employees. Friday might be troublesome at times, but she deserved rest as much as anyone else, and Cheran couldn’t be pressed too hard given the limitations of his leg. She didn’t mind paying them for overtime, but obviously they had limits.

She’d hit more of her own than she cared to admit lately. 

Cheran’s frown had become a frequent companion, and she had sighed and made herself stop - briefly - to drink and eat and stretch when his silent disapproval was aimed her way. In return, she had encouraged him to take breaks - though she knew by now that he slept in hibernation mode or not at all, odd man.

She was at the reception desk catching up on medical records and medication inventory when the door bell jingled and it opened. She looked up -

And startled.

He wore a violet shirt with gold trim, and black pants. His glowspots were brighter than usual, their light visible even from several feet away.

He didn’t have his gloves on.

She stared at his naked hands, not even caring how obvious she was being. He’d even painted his claws jade - when had that happened? Recently? Or was she only seeing it now?

Was she only seeing him now?

He looked…normal. Thrixe looked disconcertingly normal, not like her bodyguard at all. Not like a man who had just become an abomination.

The seadweller coughed and she snapped back to reality.

“Hi.” He said, hands now in his pockets. He looked as awkward as she felt.

“Hello.” She said slowly, standing up and walking out from behind the desk. Her ears flicked, and his fins fluttered.

“Queenpin said you went full horrorterror.”

She couldn’t help it. The words bubbled out of her like water from a fountain, and she winced as she saw him recoil, then sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said firmly. “You’re not going to make me, no matter what. I don’t care if you have questions, I’m - I’m not one of your indigobirds or your spiders, I’m not a construct for you to pick apart and put back together when you’re done with me.

Akalimiya made me realize, and when I got put in jail - when I got chained up - at least they had a reason. At least I’d actually done something wrong! Not that I wanted to, did she tell you that? Did Queenpin bother? Does she even know or care why it happened or is she just like you?”

Ullane took a shuddering breath. She put a hand on the desk for support. She made herself look into his eyes, his angry violet eyes full of hurt and spite and wondering why, why, why?

“I’m sorry, Thrixe.”

He blinked, his fins pinning back.

“You never call me that.”

“I never wanted to.” The mediculler admitted. “I wanted…I made bad choices. Shouldn’t have let her do that to you. I shouldn’t have done those things to you.”

“And?” He said, surprise becoming disdain as his eyebrows arched, arms crossed.

She gritted her teeth. Was he really going to drag this out? Then she felt like ID. No. She wouldn’t be like the other yellowblood, unable to admit when she’d done wrong, giving a half-baked weak-willed apology at best. She was better than that.

“And it was wrong because - because I was wrong about you. Turning into a horrorterror wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me. I let Akalimiya hurt you. Treated you like a bomb waiting to go off, can only blame myself when you did. I hurt you in little ways…hundreds of times, thousands, because I was afraid of you. I’m right to be afraid. But can’t keep treating you this way. Fear…fear’s not an excuse.”

Her voice rasped, unused to speaking so much at one time. She trembled, wishing her lusus was here so he could comfort her. She brushed the thought away - she had to face this herself, just as Thrixe had had to face everything himself.

The basket star troll was silent, his face unreadable aside from the barest twitching of his fin tips as he studied her.

“You mean it.” He said after a long pause, his voice resigned. She felt a brief flare of exasperation; of course she meant it! She’d been nothing but honest.

“All the times you treated people with respect or compassion or at least some mercy, even when we were extorting or sabotaging them. All the hits I took for you. All that time you only said thank you like it hurt. Like you couldn’t believe you had to say it. Don’t I look troll enough, Ullane? Don’t I act troll enough?”

His voice was angry but it cracked and the desperation flowed through, the begging of a man trying to chase something he wasn’t sure he could find, or if he did that it might vanish, slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Not when you use your powers.” She said quietly. “Not when you grew tendrils to force people back or snap their necks, not when you regrew your limbs or your brain like you did that night. You’re so much stronger than me, Thrixe, so powerful. Sometimes I catch you looking at something I can’t see, or tilting your head like you’re listening to things I can never hear.”

His gaze flicked to the side, fins going down slightly.

“Yes, I’m strange in some ways.” He admitted the words like they were painful, clawing their way up his throat. “Aren’t we all? Is it my fault I was hatched this way? I hate it as much as you do. They offered to take it away from me, you know. But when they started it hurt like nothing I can describe. I screamed to stop. I know it would have killed me.”

Ullane opened and closed her mouth, her tongue dry. What did she say? What could she say?

“Thrixe.” She whispered. Using his first name still felt strange on her tongue. Varzim, always she called him Varzim to keep that distance between them. Employee and boss. A tool and its user, nothing more.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He laughed, short and sharp and humorless. “Didn’t I? Or do you just say that because I’d be no use to you anymore without it?”

She flinched.

“I guess I can’t blame you.” He murmured, toying with the end of his braid. “I wouldn’t be any use without it. You don’t need an artist, or a star watcher. You need medical serums and protection. That’s just how the world is.”

“Yes, things’re harsh.” She admitted. “I need you…but I don’t want you to suffer like that. You’re not just your regeneration. I’m not just my psi.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Queenpin wouldn’t have any use for you without it.”

“Queenpin can go to hell.” She spat the words without thinking and Thrixe’s fins fluttered in alarm.

“What? What did she say to you? What happened?”

The concern in his voice choked her up with guilt.

“Nothing.” She said. “Nothing I can talk about. I want to. But you know her.” The yellowblood waved her hands helplessly.

Thrixe studied her again, but nodded, his face much less hostile now. He even showed a trace of sympathy in the twist of his lips, the angle of his fins.

What good would it do to tell him? She didn’t know details. She didn’t know anything, and she wouldn’t until it was too late to help him.

Help him. Yes. She owed him a debt, she realized.

It was terrible to owe someone a debt - even if they didn’t expect to collect it from you. Especially when she had no idea what she was going to do.

“I’m sleeping in the lounge, if you don’t mind.” He said, his tone making it clear he didn’t much care if she did mind, but he still paused after taking a few steps, looking back at her as if for approval. His bare hands were still such an odd sight, his new clothes also jarring.

She nodded.

“Rest. There’s sopor patches. Won’t wake you, nothing urgent tomorrow.”

Nothing urgent she couldn’t handle herself.

He nodded back and walked down the hallway to the lounge, shutting the door behind him. She heard it click distantly.

She let out a long breath, moving her shoulders up and down to try and release some of their tension. Her tail was practically rigid, and she played with its tuft in her fingers, trying to loosen it up.

At least he was back. She had another chance.

She didn’t intend to waste it.

#we take a break from your scheduled laughs for Thrixe and Ullane having Feelings #cloud writes #thrixe varzim #ullane wistim #and so concludes the end of thrixe's adventures after getting his brain sort of eaten #but it's far from over for starfish man #and the good doctor

[hitbythunder]

The Roll of Thunder -1

A Thor x Reader and later some Loki x Reader story

Summary: After Frigga's and Loki's deaths, Thor struggles with his grief and blames himself for the loss. Barely able to manage his emotions, the god helps the other heros on Earth so that he can stay away from Asgard - a place which only reminds him of his pain. When the team acquires a golden sphere from a mission, however, Thor is forced to deal with his past. She has black hair, pale skin and a pair of emerald eyes which haunt the god in his dreams. Could she be Loki?

Warnings: non-con in later chapters

~º*º*º~

With a clank, Thor put his mighty hammer down beside his seat and walked over to the elongated box on the other side of the jet. A familiar blue light emitted from the box and Thor observed it's valuable content closely. Made of pure gold and a vibranium core, adorned with fine engravings and a sharp blade at it's end, crowned by the glistening blue stone embedded between, his brother's scepter lay proudly before him.

Loki... Thor pondered over the past and his heart grew heavy at the thought of his brother and all that had happened between them, all the pain the Trickster had caused him and others. Many matters were left unspoken between them and Thor often thought about what he would like to tell his brother if they met once more. But Loki was dead.

It had been a year since the fight against Malekith and his scum but whole New York was still recovering, most of the citizens trying to forget the horrors of the battle. Thor however could never forget how he held his dying brother in his arms, on the yellow dusty earth or Svartalfheim. And the scepter just reminded him of the fallen prince – his brother – who died a hero.

***

Smoothly the jet landed on the platform of Stark Tower and the hatch opened while Steve turned off the engine. Another important mission was complete, the dangerous scepter under the Avenger's custody and out of Hydra's hands, much to everyone's relief. Carefully, Thor grabbed the box while Steve carried some other artifacts they had seized from the Hydra base and they exited the jet.

"Good job everyone!" Steve cheered when they entered the living room of the new built top of the tower and Tony walked straight towards the bar. "Yes, let's celebrate it with a drink or two!" "Where shall I put this, Anthony?" Thor asked in a stern voice, did he not share the joy of his friends and Tony frowned silently at being called so formally by the god.

"Oh yeah, best we bring all of the artifacts over into my lab for some testing. I'll come with you!" he replied and washed the rest of his drink down.

“So how long are you planning to stay?” Tony asked casually when they were alone in his lab, knowing that the god will take the weapon with him to Asgard. “Do not fret, you shall have enough time to study the powers of the scepter as I shall dwell some more on Midgard. There is little that wiles me to return to Asgard.” Thor replied and Tony could tell that the big blonde had still some trouble dealing with his grief, had he not only lost his brother but his mother too.

“Great. I'm curious as to what Bruce and I are going to tease out of that thing!” Tony cheered, eager to lay hands on the golden weapon. “So what are your plans for the weekend? Going to visit Jane?” the scientist added while attaching some wires and sensors to the scepter. Thor hesitated to answer.

“No...I don't think so...” he finally said, attracting part of Tony's attention. “Sounds like there is trouble in paradise? I told you, wearing mother's drapes isn't en vogue any more.” Again the Thunderer didn't respond at once. “I fear she loves her science more than me and with each day we grow apart further. … “ Thor's face was stern as he looked outside the window but at nothing in particular. He loved Jane and admired her intelligence but the flame that burnt inside him when they met was dying out slowly. Tony had not a clue what to respond, had he always avoided such situations. “I shall retire for tonight. Good night, my friend.” Thor added and left the scientist alone, seeking the solitude of his room.

***

Tony had worked for three hours now but he still did not feel tired at all as he was too excited to discover the powers and secrets of the scepter. Bruce had joined him two hours ago and together they run several tests and analyzed the weapon from every possible angle. They were “science-bros”, as Natasha called them justifiably. “Hey, Tony, what's with that golden sphere over here?” Bruce asked all of a sudden and eyed the large metal ball – it's diameter were approximately four feet – in front of him while Tony walked over. “I found it near the scepter but I have no idea what it is.” Tony replied and they both shared a wicked grin. “Then let's find out!” Although they worked for another two hours, the mysterious golden ball kept them busy even the entire next day but no test would reveal it's secret or any relevant information at all. “Still playing with that over-sized football?” Natasha joked at dinner while Clint chuckled at the moody scientists. “It's definitely no football from what we do know.” Tony quipped and stabbed the steak on his plate with the fork harshly. “We've run every possible test and tried to open it but all in vain. We know it's most likely hollow inside and the shell is of vanadium and gold on top, preventing us to get through.” Bruce explained and looked hopefully to Thor when he added: “And you don't recognize it?” The blonde shook his head. “I have never laid eyes upon something like that. Maybe it is from another world but with only so little information it is hard to tell.” Bruce nodded and returned to the food on his plate, as did the rest of the team. Dinner continued in silence until it was interrupted by the familiar voice of the friendly AI.

“Excuse me, Sir, but my sensors report some stirring from the sphere.” “Thanks Jarvis!” Tony said and jumped off his stool to head towards the lab, followed by his friends.

Inside the dim-lit lab, the golden ball was not on the large table where they had left it before. Instead it was floating freely in the middle of the room, surrounded by the tables and screens, the wires that had been attached all strewn around the floor.

“That's interesting...” Tony muttered as he stepped closer to the ball. “Be careful.” Bruce said from behind but of course that did not stop a Stark. Slowly he reached forward to touch the slightly glowing ball and upon contact, Tony was surprised even more. “It's warm.” “What? But it was ice-cold before dinner.” Bruce assessed and stepped closer too, readjusting his glasses as he eyed the ball suspiciously.

I'm gonna crack you eventually... Tony thought, determined to run a few more tests.

***

After a long shower, Thor sat alone on the bed in his darkened room and stared once more outside the window, the thousands of tiny lights from the buildings illuminating the night sky. Midgard and the Stark Tower had become his second home and Thor did not regret his decision to decline his right to the throne. But what kept his mind restless was the fact that he had probably lost Jane to her work in exchange for his adventures with the Avengers. He couldn't blame her since they rarely saw each other but it pained him to admit that he had no true companion, no love in his life anymore. With his mother and brother dead, there was only his father left but they had never shared a loving bond. Of course there were plenty of pretty (and willing) women on Midgard, more enough to satisfy his every desire but Thor didn't make use of them. At least for now, his grieving heart was still smothering such needs. He was truly glad that they had secured the scepter but he was tired of the fighting, his whole body drained by the last weeks efforts and thus he put the phone which he held in his large hand back onto the nightstand.

No, I don't want to see Jane this weekend...or any other day, he thought and lay down, hoping that sleep would ease his tormented mind.

***

It was long after midnight when the AI woke the Thunderer from his slumber, informing him that his presence was requested in the lab. From the alarmed tone of Jarvis voice, Thor knew something was amiss and thus he quickly summoned Mjolnir into his hand, the splendid Asgardian armor appearing just upon contact with the hammer's hilt, and hurried towards the lab. “What's going on?” Steve called as he followed the Aesir but it was Natasha who answered him, running behind them. “I suppose Tony screwed it up!” Inside the lab, the lights were out and only the golden glow from the sphere illuminated the room. Bruce frantically typed something on the computer while Tony just got up from the floor in front of the sphere, wearing his right iron-man arm. “Tony, what happened?!” Steve yelled when the rest of the Avengers exited the elevator. “Maybe it's a bomb. We tried to drill it out but some sort of defensive mechanism fired back.” Bruce explained, hiding some more behind the table while Tony was about to try again. “Full power, Jarvis.” “Yes, Sir.”

“WHAT?!” Natasha and Clint said in unison. “Tony stop that!!” Steve yelled and walked over to drag him away from the perceived danger. “If it's a bomb you will kill us all!” “Oh, don't be so dramatic, Cap!” Tony retorted but had no chance when he was seized and carried away from the golden sphere. "Hey! Get me down, you groper!" “Can you disarm it?” Clint asked when he was at Bruce's side but the scientist only shook his head. “We have no idea how that thing works.” “Then we should get it out of here.” Steve suggested while he held Tony in place, denying him to get one step closer to the sphere. “Sorry, pal, the damned thing won't move an inch. We've tried.” Tony said and yanked himself free from the Captain's hold.

“Maybe it has some sort of connection to the scepter. It could be a secret weapon that Loki brought to earth when-” Bruce began but was interrupted by Thor abruptly. “You think this is another of my brother's schemes?” Thor was furious, had he wished never to speak ill of his sibling but that hope was destroyed by that damned golden ball. Admittedly, Thor wouldn't be surprised that his brother hid another deadly weapon for his conquer of Midgard and as he stepped closer to the sphere he realized that some of the engravings were an old dialect of Asgardian. His face became blank as his hurt turned into wild rage, storming inside him.

“Thor? What are you doing?” Natasha asked cautiously, had she sensed the chance of the god's mood and expression. “I recognize some of the engravings although I can not grasp their meaning. Nevertheless, weapon or bomb, it must be destroyed and I shall see to it now.” Thor replied sternly, his voice rumbling low in his chest and he lifted Mjolnir above his head, lightning surrounding the hammer's head instantly.

“Thor no!” Tony yelled and Steve just caught him in time to stop him from getting too close. “No, don't! THOR!”

But it was too late, his last words never reaching the god's ears as he brought the hammer down with one vigorous blow and unleashing a bolt of lightning upon the sphere. The whole lab was illuminated, the white light of the bolt glaring the others so that they had to avert their gaze and cover their eyes for protection. The gold and vibranium began to glow, first orange then red, as the energy washed over the metal ball and Thor continued for another few seconds before he withdrew his hammer. He watched the ball's color changed back to normal and the surface smoking slightly but not damaged – much to his dissatisfaction.

“Are you insane?! You could have get us all killed!” Tony yelled once he dared to open his eyes again. “So it's not a bomb...” Bruce assessed and readjusted his glasses. “Maybe if Thor and I try together -” “NO, Tony!” Steve and Natasha yelled at Tony who held up his arms in defense. “Just an idea..relax!” The Avengers started quarreling about what to do with the mysterious ball since it couldn't be moved nor opened, their voices drowning out the clicking sound coming from the sphere. “Sir, the surface of the sphere is moving, apparently it's opening up.” Jarvis informed them and they all turned in surprise to have a look, forgetting about their arguing.

The ball glowed once more and lowered itself down onto the ground. The golden surface peeled off like the petals of a rose opening for it to bloom, one by one and from the inside, a thick, silver liquid leaked onto the stone floor, forming a puddle around the ball.

“Eeewww...” Tony watched with disgust as his floor was spoiled but he fell silent when he saw that something else was inside the ball. And when the sphere was fully opened, the Avengers gasped in astonishment at what revealed itself before their eyes. Covered from head to toe in the silver liquid, a female sat on the golden petals, the fluid concealing the details of her naked body. From what they could see, she was quite small and slim, her lovely features accompanied by a sweet nose. Curiosity took them over and the team slowly walked closer to the strange woman. “Not all at once.” Bruce whispered and motioned for the others to stay behind and let him talk to her first. He knew pretty well how to handle wild creatures after all.

“Hello there...” he said calmly, kneeling down a few feet away from her and watched as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, removing the silver liquid from her face and her shoulder-length black hair. Thor's mind tried frantically to recall some myth or tale from Asgard regarding a woman coming out of a golden ball but in vain. So he just stared at her but griped his hammer tightly, ready to strike if she should try to harm Bruce. It was then, that she opened her eyes the very first time, beholding her surroundings and the creatures in front of her and Thor's jaw almost dropped to the floor. Under thin strands of raven-black slick hair, a stark contras to her pale complexion, emerged a pair of sparkling emerald green orbs.

 Loki?

#thor x reader #mystery fic #avengers #loki x reader #romance #the roll of thunder

[mable-stitchpunk]

FNAF-TOBER Prompt- 9: Ice Scream

A new body was more than just a new exterior, it was a new life. It was taking a completely new form and watching as the world changed around you. For Eleanor, that thrill right after getting a new body was what she existed for, and that was why she frequently grew bored of her new appearances and moved onto the next. Today was the day she found her next target.

Eleanor’s targets were frequently children and young teenagers, the only ones who would fall for her ruse, but her newest plan seemed like it could work in a favor. Using her current body, she would befriend a child and find one with an older sister or young mother, then would follow them home, strip herself of her guise, and promise something she wouldn’t provide in full. It was worth it to become a true woman.

Which meant she would need a child, and the best place to find them was her old restaurant. Years ago, Eleanor had been mounted on a stage singing and performing to children of all ages, but had been discarded when another model had come in. While Eleanor hadn’t liked being on stage, she had a deep-set anger for being tossed in the garbage, so she didn’t feel bad in using the pizzeria to her advantage.

The body she currently guised in was of a preteen who looked a little too old for Circus Baby’s Pizza World, but nobody stopped her from walking inside and beginning to prowl. She smiled and pretended to peek at the arcade cabinets, tried to make her interest in the cupcakes believable, and wandered around with an awestruck look, all to cover that she was eyeing the children.

One was particularly of interest to her, and that was a girl who had came with what looked to be her older sister. She checked off all the marks. She was timid, hesitantly keeping to herself and by her sister’s table, and watched the other children with longing look. She would be easy to persuade; Eleanor could already see through her cracks.

But right as she was about to approach the girl, she started to wander off by herself into the pizzeria. Eleanor took this as a positive sign and followed, leading her into one of the back party rooms. The girl must’ve been there as part of a birthday party as the room was set up with tables and plates. There were only a few children left in the room. Eleanor followed her inside with the intention of finally approaching her.

Except that was when she noticed the stage against the back wall, and what was on it. Much to Eleanor’s disgust, there was her replacement, a large, bulky Baby model with childish features. Why anyone would choose that thing over her was beyond her, but it didn’t matter anymore. She had a new life, and she was going to have another in only a few days if she played her cards right.

Speaking of which, Eleanor turned back to the tables only to stop short when she saw something unexpected. Her meek little target was being engaged by two other children who were chatting her up and inviting her to play. Much to Eleanor’s dismay, the girl quietly agreed and they started to make their way out of the room, leaving her alone with her replacement.

It was an annoyance, maybe, but that was the thrill of the chase. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. This taste of friendship would be enough to convince the girl to want more of it. Eleanor would just have to watch and wait, and she prepared to follow her out.

“Hello. What’s your name?”

Until an unexpected voice chimed up from the stage. Eleanor looked back quickly, feigning exaggerated surprise, and tried to figure out if this was an automated response or something else. Baby was watching her and waiting for an answer, so she gave one.

“My name’s Ellie! Wow, I didn’t know you could talk!”

“I can sing too. Would you like a song?” Baby offered sweetly. Definitely had to be aware like she was, but seemed a lot more dense. Poor thing probably hadn’t had a day off the stage since she got here. Eleanor almost pitied her.

“Gosh, I’d really love to, but I got to catch up with my friends,” Eleanor excused. She gave an innocent wave, “See you later!” and turned to head out. 

“Oh... Alright...” Baby sounded downtrodden, though Eleanor cared little. Though what came next did catch her attention. “You’re just... So pretty.”

Pretty? This body? This body was full of imperfects- save the pouty lips and curved cheeks, which drew her to the guise in the first place. How Baby could find this body pretty was beyond her. If anything, it piqued her curiosity.

“You think I’m pretty?” Eleanor asked, feigning a tone of awe. Baby pulled her arms together as though she was shy and timidly nodded. “But... I look so boring. Nobody ever notices me, and people make fun of my ears,” she said, adding in the girl’s own comments into her assessment. 

“I think you’re beautiful...” Baby quietly assured. Eleanor was sure that this model had never seen anything except children, parents, and her own self. She didn’t understand true beauty, and what one could do with it.

“There used to be another girl robot on that stage before you. I think she was a Baby too? She was beautiful,” Eleanor clarified, feigning quiet defeat. Baby tilted her head.

“There was... Another Baby?” Baby asked. “What did she look like?”

“She was tall, and thin, and looked a lot like a real person. She had long lashes and rosy lips, slender curves, shapely legs and delicate hands. She was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Wow, she sounds so pretty. I wish I could meet her. Maybe she could make me pretty too...?” Baby almost sounded like she was asking for something, like she thought Eleanor could tell her where this ‘beautiful Baby’ was.

“She could’ve, but they threw her in the dumpster,” Eleanor said a little too coldly. She recovered quickly and smiled wide. “But that’s okay! We can still be friends... Oh, my friends! I better go!”

“Oh, okay. Have fun,” Baby said pensively. Yet right as Eleanor was about to leave, she perked up abruptly. “Wait, before you go...” She cut off with a humming and rumbling in her chest. Elanor watched wearily, just wanting to get away from this clown, until a hatch in Baby’s chest opened and she pulled out a freshly made ice-cream cone. “Here. All of my new friends get ice cream.”

“I don’t really like ice cream,” Eleanor said, her annoyance starting to come through. 

That was, until Baby said, “Then you can give it to your friends. Or to somebody new, and then you can become friends with them too. Everybody likes ice cream.”

That was true. Children especially seemed to become very friendly with those who gave out free goodies. She never considered it before, but giving candy and sweets could be a good way to get children to let their guard down. Then she could learn just enough that when she revealed her true self she could relay details back to them, making her look like some sort of magical being ready to grant all their wishes.

“Well, okay! Thank you!” Eleanor came up to the stage and reached up for the ice cream. Baby leaned over to hand it down to her.

Until suddenly her eyes went black and her chest opened up. A large claw shot out of her middle and caught Eleanor by the shoulder before forcibly dragging her inside.

It was a tight squeeze. Even with Baby’s large size, Eleanor was compressed tightly inside the storage tank, and though she didn’t feel pain she was very aware of the trouble she was in. Especially once the hatch closed tight behind her. 

“...Did you really think I was stupid enough to fall for that?” 

Baby’s voice had changed. Once gentle and innocent, it was now low and bitter, and angry. “You’re so vain that you thought you could put on a flimsy illusion and fool everyone. But not me. I saw through you the moment you stepped into the room. I know what you are.”

“Then you should let me go,” Eleanor smoothly replied. She stopped mimicking her victim’s voice and returned to her natural one. One that was painfully similar to Baby’s own. “I meant what I said. I could make you beautiful.”

“You’re lying... But that’s alright. I lied too, and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

Right then, the tank’s walls compressed further, tightening further against Eleanor’s sides. Now she was becoming increasingly aware of the severity of the situation. 

“You thought you could come into my pizzeria and make it your playground. You thought I would just let you do whatever you wanted, didn’t you? There’s no sweet talking your way out this time. This is my pizzeria. I am the star. I can do whatever I want.”

Suddenly, Eleanor knew what her victims felt like in the moment they realized there was no coming back. A moment that would give her glee, seeing their hopeless faces, and now experiencing from the other side as the walls cracked the metal body hiding underneath the ruse. 

She screamed for help in her victim’s voice, but just like with her, nobody was there to hear it.

“We’ll see how pretty you are when I’m finished with you...”

#fnaftober #I scream #Eleanor (Fazbear Frights) #Circus Baby #five nights at freddy's #fanfiction #prompt #Baby slays the competition

[lavalampelfchild]

Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all!  Welcome to my art masterpost!  I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are!  What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood.  But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!  

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did.  It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~  Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively.  Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it.  This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie.  Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart  It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like.  (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew.  What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future. 

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood.  I am super proud of this one.  My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is.  This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic!  It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone.  But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version.  This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of.  Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note.  A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites.  His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted.  And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool.  It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood).  This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn.  And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see.  This one was ambitious for me!  It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out.  The version you can actually see a larger view is here.  

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work.  This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~).  I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI.  So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself.  The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use.  Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD!  I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...).  I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it?  At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh.  Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do.  This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style.  I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste.  In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here.  I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me.  This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch!  With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall.  It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make.  I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often.  It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes.  Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore.  The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt.  This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with.  For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble.  Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.  

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right).  I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art!  Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall.  Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with.  What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face.  Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets.  This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn.  Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there.  It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self.  This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~  She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc.  All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image.  It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human!  It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!  

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars.  A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI).  This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves.  I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face!  (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

#lavalampelfchild's art #masterpost #dragon age #some not DA stuff

[sinnerandafool]

Winter to Spring - My Skyrim Thieves Guild Fanfic

This is my Skyrim fanfic, based loosely on my current play through. If you are able to use mods, I highly recommend Take Notes - Journal of the Dragonborn. Writing a journal as my character definitely made me more invested in her story. 

Here is the link to the whole story on Ao3 x.

I’m a rookie fic writer, so any feedback is appreciated, but mostly I hope you enjoy it, and that it serves as a good distraction from the hellscape we live in (Americans). 

Title: Winter to Spring

Chapters: 4/?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (the MC experienced some in her past, and is experiencing sexual harassment in the first chapter.)

Rating: M (for violence, eventual sexual content)

Relationship: Brynjolf / Female Dovahkiin

Chapter 1

Aerlith woke alone, drowsily opening her eyes as the sounds of morning birds and running water filtered into her consciousness. A piney scent permeated the little fur tent. She rolled to one side, her sore muscles protesting. She closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the delicious dream she had been having. All she recalled were light touches, warm embraces, and a soft, deep voice calling her name. Well, not her name precisely. No one knew her true name, only the false one she used day to day. She sighed. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her past for making her a fugitive. She rolled over again, restlessly seeking sleep, but hunger nagged at her stomach, so she reluctantly got up and exited the tent.

Sitting on a boulder next to the stream babbling by, she stared up at the entrance of the ruin before her. The Twilight Sepulcher. The trials of the Pilgrim’s Path were still painfully fresh in her mind. Aerlith never liked ruins. The smell of decay, the damp darkness, and worst of all, the deafening silence, which often signaled the presence of slumbering draugr. She shuddered, recalling their evil glowing eyes and hollow flesh.

Despite her fear, Aerlith had been successful in her mission to return the Skeleton Key to its rightful place. She felt apathetic about Nocturnal, and suspected the lady of twilight felt similarly about her. Daedric princes were never concerned with the fates of their human worshippers, and to Aerlith it seemed a tad foolish to risk one’s life in exchange for unreliable favor. But no matter her skepticism, she’d completed Nocturnal’s trial, and at last reached the Ebonmere, where she returned the Skeleton Key. She didn’t do it for Nocturnal. She did it for her family.

She smiled sadly, thinking about Karliah and Gallus, saying their final goodbyes before he faded into the Evergloam. Gallus had extended his spectral hand to touch his beloved’s cheek with such tenderness and sincerity it made her heart ache. “Farewell,” Karliah had intoned softly, leaning into his intangible touch. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Her voice was even, and Aerlith couldn’t see her face, but something in her tone betrayed absolute misery at the parting.

Aerlith took the last bite of her apple and stood. She stretched, then set about packing up her camp. She was tired, yes, but she was also brimming with excitement. Nocturnal would no longer sabotage the luck of the guild, and their chances of success would increase. The wealth would marginally improve the lives of her newfound family, and she couldn’t wait to share in their happiness. And, of course, she was curious about what he would have to say.

Aerlith hired a carriage to take her from Falkreath to Riften, opting for comfort and rest in exchange for one hundred-fifty hard earned septims. But it was worth it, she thought, snuggled under a warm fur cloak and hood, watching the scenery pass by idly while the horse did all the work. Her life for the past few weeks had been constant hiking, camping and delving into dangerous ruins. She was ready for a break.

One long day and night later, the carriage creaked its way up a gentle rise, and Riften Stables came into view. Feeling lethargic and in need of exercise, Aerlith tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to let her off. He obliged, and urged his horse up the road without her.

She strolled languidly along the road, slowly stretching her stiff legs. The Rift was blooming. The aspens sprouted new leaves, wildflowers grew madly across the landscape, and birds were everywhere, singing their chirruping songs. Aerlith breathed in the clean spring air, intoxicated by the warmth and life of it all. After the dank Sepulcher and gloomy Falkreath hold, this was paradise.

By and by she reached the main gate of Riften, nodding to the guards in their livery, who smiled coyly at her as she passed. They knew who she was, or at least, they knew her reputation in the hold. She had been gone for a long time, and among the nosy guards there were several betting pools on whether she’d make it back alive. The guard guffawed and shook hands with his partner, who reluctantly tossed him a purse. Arielle had returned home at last, and he was rich.

Aerlith skirted the marketplace, moving quickly along the perimeter towards the keep. Though it was a warm day, she pulled her hood securely over her face, and kept her head down. Thankfully, it was a busy time in the market, so she was able to slip through without attracting much attention.

At the secret back entrance to the cistern, she nudged the button and waited for the coffin to slide back. As usual it made an unpleasantly loud grinding sound, and she wondered for the hundredth time why none of the citizens ever commented on it, or attempted to gain entry. It was another strange feature of Riften life. She still wasn’t used to the confounding apathy that permeated the city.

Below, she lifted the hatch and descended the ladder into the darkness. Though the cistern was damp and cool, warmth spread from her heart when she saw her guildmates gathered on the center dais. Everyone was here, safe, and from the looks of it listening raptly to Karliah. The dark elf stood beside Brynjolf, entertaining the small crowd with her part of the tale of the Skeleton Key’s return. Arielle approached silently to listen.

“I was working to clear some rubble when I saw the portal glow to life. I knew what must have happened, and I eagerly stepped through it and into Nocturnal’s sanctum. I just managed to catch the lady fading back into her realm, and then I saw Arielle. Her face was the perfect picture of shock. I called out to her and she looked at me as if from a hundred miles away. I swear I’ve never seen her look so bewildered.” Karliah smiled, and Brynjolf chuckled softly, looking thoughtful.

“In all fairness,” Aerlith said softly, feeling the eyes of her guildmates shift to her, “If you’d just taken a leap of faith, fallen toward your certain death, and then come face to face with a daedric prince for the first time, I imagine you’d look the same, Karliah,” she smiled, meeting her friends’ eyes.

Karliah beamed at her. “Welcome back Arielle!” She crossed the dais and pulled her into a tight hug. “Would you care to share your side of the story?”

“At the moment, all I would like is a bath and a bottle of Surilie wine,” she said, smiling. “And, to be honest, I think our lady would like to keep some of her secrets sacred.” Aerlith winked at Rune, who was staring at her with boldfaced shock.

Brynjolf stepped toward her, smiling. “Well done, lass. It’s good to see you in one piece.” He clapped her shoulder, then became more serious. “I’m not much good at things like this, but I need to thank you for all you’ve done for the guild. I’m so proud-”

“Oh, enough fluff Brynjolf,” Vex said exasperatedly. “We’re all happy. Let the poor woman have her bath in peace.”

Karliah grinned and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “Indeed. Let’s all go to the Flagon and have a proper celebration!”

The guild all made approving noises and began to filter out, several of the members stopping to offer words of encouragement to Aerlith.

“Arielle!” exclaimed one, a handsome, burly nord with striking warpaint beneath his eyes. “I’m so glad you returned safely. ” He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “My sword and bow are always at the ready for you. You need not fear any foe with me by your side.”

“Hello Thrynn,” Aerith said tiredly. “Pleasure as always.” She pulled her hand away. “But I really would like to go relax now. It was a long journey from Falkreath. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps you’d like some company in the bath, little dove,” he growled softly, his voice like the ragged edge of an old battleaxe.  She could feel his breath on her ear. A chill ran down her neck, goosebumps rising.

“No,” she said firmly, “Thank you.” She pulled away from him, and strode, head held high across the cistern to the entrance of the baths.

Thrynn admired her retreating figure until it vanished into darkness. He turned to go to the Flagon, but was stopped short in his tracks by Brynjolf, who leaned against a wall by the door, face wreathed in shadow. Thrynn scowled. “What are you doing skulking around like that, Brynjolf? Out of the way.” He tried to push past, but Brynjolf stopped him.

“When will you give it up, Thrynn?”

“Give what up?”

“Arielle. I don’t know how many times you need to be rejected for the message to come across loud and clear,” Brynjolf stood up, taking a step closer.

Thrynn laughed heartily at the threat. “You know nothing of women if you thought that was rejection,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Women always play hard to get.” He smiled lasciviously then continued, “That’s what makes Arielle so irresistibly delicious.”

Brynjolf’s mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a blushing lady for you to seduce. She is your sister in arms,” he said forcefully.

The bandit chuckled. “Not like you to be so hypocritical, Brynjolf. You hold your subordinates to a higher standard than yourself.”

“Not sure what you are implying, but I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Brynjolf’s green eyes hardened, the anger in them sharper than the finest glass dagger.

Thrynn swallowed. “Everyone knows about you and the fence,” he said boldly.

“Oh yes?” Brynjolf smiled darkly at Thrynn, and the bandit wondered for a moment if he should be ready to brawl. “Get out of my sight,” the second in command spat at him.

Relieved, Thrynn pushed past his superior and rushed through the door to the Flagon. Brynjolf frowned, his brow furrowed, and stared off into the darkness where Arielle had been a moment before.

Aerlith had never been so happy to sink into a hot bath. She wasted no time, quickly shimmying out of her light armor, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She lowered herself indulgently into the water. The grime from the Sepulcher, the dust from the road, and the cold of Skyrim that permeated her bones gave way to the warmth of the water. She glowed with happy contentment. She was home among her friends again. The faces of Karliah, Vex, Brynjolf and Delvin brought such joy to her. After her lonely sojourn through Skyrim, she had everything she needed. And Brynjolf was proud of her. His warm green eyes and welcome smile made her glow even brighter. She grabbed up her soap and began to wash, smiling to herself.

Her mind wandered unbidden back to Thrynn. The former bandit was friendly enough, though difficult to trust at the best of times. But his constant flirting was beginning to be more than just a minor annoyance. She’d failed to reject him firmly enough the first time, and he had been ignoring her subsequent tries with horrifyingly admirable gumption.

When Aerlith first joined the guild, Thrynn, along with practically every other man with eyes had been quite open about their interest in her. At first she had blushed furiously red when they complimented her, or touched her. She would always freeze in place and clam up, her mind unable to form thoughts, her mouth unable to speak. Her innocent reaction made them laugh, at which point they would ruffle her hair and leave her to go about their business. Aerlith began spending more time with Vex, observing how her friend would openly laugh at the men accosting her, and she learned how to handle unwanted advances with more confidence. As she rejected the men, one by one they moved on. It was better this way. She hoped their interest stemmed merely from her novelty, and not from any other motives.

Thrynn was not as easy to deal with. He pushed past her discouragement, whether it was polite or harsh. He continued to harass her, to touch her, to whisper vile things in her ear that made her blush. She felt beat down by his constant disregard for her wish to be left alone, and had resolved to just ignore him when she could. It reminded her a little too much of the way Jarl Siddgeir’s sneering, lecherous expression, when he cornered her in the darkened servant’s quarters all those months ago. She shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his body weight pressing her into the wall, the hard length of his arousal grinding into her angrily. Something died within her that night. She had no skills, no strength, and no way out. Her silver eyes hardened. Things had changed. If she ever met Siddgeir again, she would have her revenge.

Aerlith soaped her long, pale blonde hair, gently teasing out the tangles. She never felt more powerful, more able to protect herself at this moment. The frightened and helpless girl she once was had grown into a dangerous woman. Her mediocre skills with a dagger, which had been scoffed at by Vilkas of Jorrvaskr, had improved under Brynjolf’s friendly tutelage. Thanks to him, and to the other members of the guild who shared their expertise, Aerlith was silent, fast, and deadly.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Aerlith allowed herself a moment to wallow in the hot water. There was one man in the guild who was ostensibly uninterested in her: Brynjolf. His attentions to her were friendly, but professional. He patiently taught her the tools of a thief’s trade, gently correcting her when she needed it. She was grateful that he did not ridicule her inexperience. He offered his advice after giving her a job, and usually ended by staring her down with his shiny green eyes as he said, “And be careful, lass.”

When she returned successful and pocket jingling with coin, he would clap her on the back or shoulder, offering her encouragement and smiles that she hoped contained pride. She was his protege, after all. Thanks to Brynjolf, Aerlith had a safe place to sleep, and a well paying job that allowed her to keep a low profile. She was more than grateful to him, and their relationship was more than a simple friendship. But whether her feelings for him were platonic was a question she desperately tried to avoid. She knew he didn’t see her as anything more than a pupil.

However, Aerlith occasionally caught him staring at her from across rooms, his eyes serious as he contemplated her. It seemed unfair to her that she couldn’t decipher the meaning behind this. It was all too easy to imagine that he felt something for her too. On the night they met, Brynjolf flirted with her shamelessly, and though she knew now that his attention had been false, simply a means to an end, her attraction and interest in him that night was real.

Another memory fought its way to the surface. The guild threw a large celebration when the three Nightingales returned successful, Mercer dead and Karliah safely home again with her honor restored. That night, Aerlith begged off an arm wrestling match with Vex, opting to take a cup of wine to a quiet table on the outer ring of the din. There she sat and watched the merriment, laughing as Vekel hit on Tonilia and she slapped him forcefully for his impertinence, nearly knocking the slight man down. Tonilia huffed away, going to sit across from Brynjolf at his table. As Aerlith’s eyes followed the woman in amusement, they lit upon Brynjolf and stuck there. He was watching her again. She looked back at him, surprised. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The shadows made it too difficult to see, but the glint in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he. Aerlith felt heat beginning to rise in her cheeks, but she was transfixed. His green eyes shone at her as he leaned forward into the candlelight, resting his chin on his hand. The light revealed his faintly amused smile, which she returned hesitantly. But then, Tonilia said something to him and he looked away, the tension released. Aerlith felt let down. The rumors of Brynjolf and Tonilia’s romantic involvement may not have been true, but to Aerlith it seemed they shared a closer relationship than was usual. It pricked her to see him smile so easily and openly with Tonilia, joking raunchily and teasing her. With Aerlith, Brynjolf acted as the wise teacher, the helpful mentor. Her gratitude prevented her from feeling resentment, but her disappointment could not be helped.

Aerlith finished scrubbing her hair and rose from the bath. She toweled herself quickly and dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, pulling on her stockings and boots. She didn’t bother to arrange her hair or apply any cosmetics. Fatigue wore on her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the giddy depths of a bottle.

She entered the tavern a few minutes later. Karliah, sitting with Vex and Delvin, saw her come in and motioned for her to join them. Aerlith smiled and went over.

“Here you are, yer ladyship,” Delvin said gruffly, pouring her a cup of her favorite Surilie vintage. “Only the best for the woman of the hour.”

Aerlith sat down and picked up the cup. Seized by a sudden emotion, she raised it and said, “To the guild! May it last another thousand years.” The others raised their flagons as well, adding their “Hear, hear”s and “To the guild!”s. Aerlith drank deeply, draining half her cup in one go. She wasn’t planning on drinking lightly.

“So,” Vex said, “Care to tell us more about your exploits, Arielle? Delvin is practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he smacked her hand.

Aerlith laughed. She had missed the banter of her friends during her long journey alone. She drank again, considering. Vex was still looking at her curiously, so she said, “Not much to tell I’m afraid, Vex.”

Vex scowled. “You Nightingales and your secrets,” she muttered darkly. But she brightened up quickly when she spotted something over Aerlith’s shoulder. “Watch out,” she said, smiling sneakily at Aerlith and rising from the table. “Delvin, Karliah, come here. I want to show you something.” Vex beckoned them across the room, leaving Aerlith alone with her wine.

Puzzled, Aerlith drained the rest of her cup, and reached for the bottle to pour another. A larger, rougher hand covered hers and tightened it against the glass bottleneck.

“Thirsty tonight, eh little dove?” Thrynn’s rough voice whispered in her ear. Aerlith pulled her hand away, and watched as Thrynn poured her wine, filling her cup nearly to the brim. He moved and sat down in the chair next to hers, resting his head on one hand lazily. “I can think of many more delicious ways to quench your thirst.” He licked his lips, the suggestion obvious.

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your input Thrynn.”

He chuckled. “So cold. Any other man would think you hated him.”

“Then why don’t you take the hint?” Aerlith asked sharply.

Thrynn leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She felt his eyes roaming over her face and body. “I want you to sing for me, little dove,” he crooned, taking her hand in his. “I’ve the skilled hands of a thief and the strength of a barbarian...care to take a ride?”

Aerlith yanked her hand away, standing unsteadily and staring down at him. She swallowed her nerves and said, “I am not your little dove , Thrynn. I am a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal. And believe me,” she said, her words pure venomous threat, “I am more than capable of making you sing for me.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger, staring at him pointedly.

Thrynn stood and pulled her to him, his hands tight on her waist. His eyes burned with desire. “That’s the fire I love about you,” he said roughly. Before she could react, he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

Panic took hold of her, and she tried to wrench away, but he was too strong for her. Desperately, she fumbled for her dagger, drew it, and stabbed it mercilessly into his thigh. Thrynn howled and released her. Aerlith pulled her dagger back and brandished it, sinking into her fighting stance.

“Little bitch,” Thrynn spat. He reached for his battle axe.

“Enough,” Delvin said, stepping between Aerlith and Thrynn. “Calm down the lot of you.” He looked over his shoulder at Aerlith. “All right?” She nodded. “Good. Now, get yer hackles down Thrynn, before I gut you like a fish.”

Thrynn looked from her and back to Delvin. The tavern had gone quiet. Aerlith did not turn around, but from Thrynn’s mild panic, she could tell the thieves were watching the scene with little love for the bandit. “Fuck you,” Thrynn spat at Delvin, and turned to leave the Flagon from the front entrance. The door slammed behind him.

Aerlith breathed out, slow and steady. She grabbed a linen from the table and wiped her dagger on it, sliding it back into the sheathe. Karliah appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Arielle?” she said with concern.

“Fine,” Aerlith said, anger still coursing through her. “That bastard deserved it.”

“He did indeed,” Karliah said, a smile curling her lips. Around them, the thieves returned to their drinks, and conversation began to buzz again.

“I need a drink,” Aerlith said, beginning to relax again.

“It’s on me,” Karliah laughed and headed to the bar to procure another bottle.

Aerlith sat with Karliah, watching her guildmates fraternize and drink. Delvin brought out his lute, and Dirge his drum, and the two began playing a lively tune. Tonilia got up and started to dance, her lithe body and agile feet drawing the eyes of every man in the room. Aerlith’s eyes drifted to the bar, where she saw Brynjolf sitting the wrong way round on his stool, leaning back on the bar as he watched Tonilia dance, smiling and occasionally sipping his drink.

He is so handsome , Aerlith mused. Brynjolf had shiny long hair the color of garnet, which set off the color of his deep set green eyes. But it wasn’t his appearance as much as his personality that made him stand out. He had a habit of catching her off guard with a sly look in his eyes, saying her name with his lilting accent, catching her in a daydream when she was supposed to be learning lockpicking. She would snap out of her trance and meet his eyes, and get lost again for a moment before smiling apologetically and telling him to continue with his teaching.

All the lifesaving lessons he taught were sorely needed. After her family went missing, she arrived in Skyrim and became a ward of the old Jarl of Falkreath, the suspicious and feeble Dengeir. Her mother had a cousin who worked in the longhouse, so Aerlith was allowed to live there in return for working in the kitchen and cleaning up after the Jarl’s family. She didn’t hate it there, but when Dengeir’s nephew Siddgeir assumed the throne, the trouble began. Siddgeir took an unhealthy interest in his ward, resulting in the terrifying night he had confronted her in her room. Worse, once he had his fun, he threw Aerlith cruelly out into the street, claiming that she was a liability he couldn’t afford any longer. He may very well have been correct, but without his protection, Aerlith was a sitting duck.

The day two strangers came through Falkreath asking after a pale haired girl with silver eyes, she fled with her few possessions and never looked back. Aerlith didn’t adjust well to life on the run. She arrived in Riverwood hungry, filthy and tired, and nearly collapsed on the porch of the inn. She had enough money to pay her way, but being a weak young lady with riches and no protection, she soon lost half her purse to a sneak thief in the night. Desperate, she moved on from Riverwood to Whiterun, with shallow hope that she would find sanctuary at the Temple of Kynareth.

Lost in reverie, she realized she was still staring at Brynjolf. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she turned back to her bottle, attempting to drown out her thoughts with the intoxicating liquid. Karliah regarded her, sipping from her own cup. “Something on your mind, friend?”

“That business with Thrynn took me back to a different time,” she said, her face hard. “I haven’t always been as good with a blade.” Aerlith wanted to unburden herself and share her troubles with Karliah, but she couldn’t risk it. From Falkreath to Riften, she was hunted by various heavily armed strangers. She suspected they were the same men who took her parents away, come to finish the job. Telling her story to anyone was foolish and could possibly bring harm to them.

Karliah smiled sadly. “Being a woman in Skyrim is tough. But you are strong and worth their respect,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the gathered guild. “It is good that you remind them now and then.”

Aerlith grinned. Though Karliah knew nothing of her past, Aerlith always felt that her friend understood her perfectly. It was a comfort beyond measure. “At least I have you, my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in darkness.”

The dark elf laughed and patted her hand. “I’m off to bed,” she said, standing. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Aerlith nodded at the familiar send off.

“Good night.”

Some time later, when the music had ceased and most guild members had stumbled off to bed, Aerlith tipped the bottle into her cup once more, only to be disappointed when nothing poured out. She sighed and leaned over the table, contemplating throwing in the towel and going to bed. Questing in the interest of the guild was great and noble, but it definitely didn’t make her rich. She tiredly imagined how many jobs she would have to take on before she made up for all the traveling expenses.

While she was lost in thought, Brynjolf came over silently and plunked a full bottle of wine on her table, making her jump a bit. “You shouldn’t have an empty cup, lass,” He said, looking down at her with playful eyes and a warm smile.

Aerlith nodded her approval and reached for the bottle. She noted that Brynjolf also looked pretty deep in his cups. His cheeks were reddened and his eyes were extra shiny.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip and offering him the bottle when he sat opposite her. He poured out a cup for himself, then looked at her for a moment.

“I never got to thank you properly earlier,” he said.

Her heart swelled, but she kept her voice even as she said, “I got all the thanks necessary from Lady Nocturnal herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he laughed. “But truly, without your help, the guild would still be under the thumb of Mercer and suffering from a daedra’s displeasure.” He looked at her seriously, and she felt herself beginning to blush. “I’m very glad I chose to scam you of all the people in the city that day,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Aerlith took a swig of wine to cool herself. Feeling vulnerable, she spoke quietly, “If you hadn’t tried to rob me, I never would have joined the guild, and would have wandered alone forever.” She chanced a look up at him. “All the skills you’ve taught me have saved my life countless times already. Performing this task for the guild was nothing in comparison to what I’ve received.” Saying it felt right, but Aerlith thought Brynjolf would laugh at her sincerity as he usually did.

He surprised her by reaching across the table and grasping her hand tightly in his. His grip was warm, his calloused fingers rough as they held hers fast. “Don’t be silly. You’ve accomplished something great, and I’m proud of you, Arielle.” He stared intensely into her eyes, burning her with the heat of his conviction.

She pulled her hand back and took another long drink from her cup. She grinned at him. “It’s a strange thing, hearing a thief speak so earnestly,” she joked, trying to dispel the tension she felt.

“As I said, I’m not one for sincerity. Enjoy it while it lasts, lass.” She relaxed a bit, knowing that the hard part was over. “Now, about that bandit,” he said, looking at her smugly.

“What about him?” She asked, twisting the silver ring on her right hand repetitively. Maybe the ‘hard part’ would never really be over with Bryn.

“I enjoy seeing Thrynn being put in his place. Well done indeed, Arielle,” he replied, a sly smile playing over his lips.

Oh. He saw that . Shame burned a blush in her cheeks. She didn’t like to imagine what Brynjolf must have thought, seeing her with him. The memory of Thrynn’s hands on her felt dirty. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, looking down. “I did what had to be done.”

“And did it well,” he said gently. Aerlith raised her eyes to his. Brynjolf smiled. “Chin up, lass. That bastard couldn’t best you if he trained for a hundred years.”

A poignant feeling of relief and sadness stung her. Aerlith fought back tears, disguising her pain by gulping deeply from her cup. She wanted to say something, but her thoughts were scattered. Her mind’s eye kept flashing to Thrynn’s face, his mouth stealing hers, his hands gripping her painfully. Siddgeir slid into her thoughts too, clouding her vision with fear and shame. She breathed out shakily, carefully training her gaze into her cup.

“Arielle? Are you alright?” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, coming up close beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

Finally, she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice breaking. She felt tears begin to fall and blushed, looking down again. Brynjolf knelt down and leveled with her gaze.

Tentatively, his eyes searching hers, he reached up and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away, and she inhaled shakily, unsure of how to react to his touch. “It’s all right, lass. Whatever the trouble is, we can make it right,” he said slowly.

“I can’t shake them, Brynjolf,” she said, trying to speak through the sob choking her. “No matter where I go.” She hung her head again, resting it in his palm. “I will never be free from my past,” she concluded, and despair overwhelmed her. She cried softly in front of him, hating herself and hating her weakness. But she was tired, so very tired, and his kindness had opened a floodgate within her.

For a horrible moment, Brynjolf stayed very still, and she dreaded his reaction. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him, carefully encircling her in a gentle embrace. “All right, Arielle. It’s all right,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, letting her ride out the sadness. Finally, her crying quieted into sniffles, and she felt him pull her tighter to him “That’s it, lass.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Aerlith tried to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of the past threatened to take her over again. With her head pressed against his chest, Aerlith could hear Brynjolf’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm pulled her focus back to the present. Gradually, she felt herself coming down to earth as her breathing slowed and her thoughts cleared.

Reality rushed back in like frigid water, a cruel reminder of who she was, who he was, and where they were. Aerlith pulled away from Brynjolf quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. “I should go.” She nodded to him and tried to make a hasty exit.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. Aerlith didn’t look at him. She couldn't. “I’m worried about you, Arielle. Can’t I help you?” The worried kindness in his voice almost made her break again.

Aerlith steeled herself. Turning to her mentor and smiling brightly, she said, “Nothing’s much wrong, Bryn.” His brow furrowed as he watched her skeptically. “I’m just very, very tired, and I think I’ve had too much wine. I’m sorry to make a scene.”

“Alright, lass, if that’s really how you feel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled her into him again, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He held her silently for a long moment. Aerlith listened to his heartbeat again, wishing she could hear it forever. I broke so easily for him , she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. Wrapped up in his warmth, she realized that for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally safe. Safe enough that the iron doors of her resolve cracked open, revealing the vulnerability and fear within. The revelation scared her, but she didn’t pull away this time. She breathed him in. His scent was leather, wine, smoke, and just a hint of sweat. Eyes closed, she let him lull her into a state of serenity.

Finally, he held her out at arms length. “Get some rest then,” he said, smiling gently. Before she could move, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, lingering there. Aerlith's eyes widened in surprise. So many invisible lines had been crossed tonight, but what truly surprised her was how right it all felt. Brynjolf took a deep breath and pulled away, blowing it out slowly as he stared at her. The look in his eyes confounded her. It was a cross between tenderness and fiery determination, with a touch of  heated aggression that made her breath catch in her chest.

Aerlith smiled. “Thank you, Bryn,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still burning with that mysterious energy. “Good night, then.” Aerlith walked off to bed, praying to the divines that it hadn’t been a dream.

#brynjolf #f!dovahkiin #f!dragonborn #skyrim fic #thieves guild #fanfiction #romance #brynjolf x dragonborn #are there even tags for this ship? #brynjolf x dovahkiin