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amiedala · 3 years

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SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 4: An Open Wound

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, canon-compliant violence, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of past abuse/trauma

SUMMARY: “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello my loves and happy Something Deeper Saturday! this chapter is truly a whirlwind, it's hard and sweet and intense and simple all at once. there are very graphic descriptions of violence and death in the one (in the form of Force visions, no one's actually dying, I PROMISE!!!), so please be aware that there is potentially triggering material in what you're about to read. it mentions past abuse and dives pretty deep into current violence, so please just read with caution! i hope you enjoy this journey—i certainly did writing it! more notes at the end!!! <3

Mandalore isn’t a ghost town.

Not how Nova originally thought, anyway. The throne room is filled with wary, armored people. Some are the guards that usually stand watch outside, through the giant palace doors. Nova recognizes Koska Reeves and Axe Woves from the brief, charged encounters she’s had with each of them. Bo-Katan is there, of course, regal and pristine, her shoulders pushed back, her red hair impeccable. There are a handful of villagers that Nova’s seen in passing, but besides the few faces she recognizes, most of the people gathered in the throne room have been hidden somewhere on Mandalore, away from this strange Capitol, away from the everyday. Half of them are without armor, without impressive beskar helmets to hide their wary expressions. Bo-Katan’s icy, measured gaze is clearly a popular currency on Mandalore, because every single person in this room looks skeptical at best and enraged at worst. Nova keeps her eyes on Din, who’s decided to stand at the helm of the dais instead of taking a seat on the beskar throne, watching his every movement to ensure he’s safe up there, and that he stays unharmed.

“I want...to be your leader,” Din says, his voice quiet but earnest. He sounds like he’s incredulous at his own words, like he’s reading off a script he’s never seen before. But there’s power hidden underneath whatever’s scaring him, an undercurrent that Nova knows is unfettered, genuine passion. “I wasn’t raised in the way of Mandalore. Not in the ways that you were—”

“Clearly,” Koska whispers, and the Mnadalorians standing closest to her proximity offer uncharacteristic smiles and snorts. Nova steps forward, but Bo-Katan raises her sharp hand at her side, and they immediately fall silent.

Din looks back at Nova, and for the first time, she can see the fear in his eyes. She nods, encouragingly, even though she has absolutely no clue what point he’s trying to make. Every time she closes her eyes, even if it’s only for a heartbeat, she sees the strange, young hologram of her face, with the word MURDER, MURDER, MURDER flashing back at her, a ceaseless and terrible pattern. Nervously, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, realizing that she’s the only person in this room who isn’t outfitted in Mandalorian regalia. Her black shirt has remnants of dust on the sleeves from the amphitheater. Her pants saw their best days weeks ago. Her shawl, the only proof that she wears any sort of allegiance to the throne, Mandalorian blue and regal, is thrown haphazardly over her rounded shoulders. The boots on her feet are older than her relationship with Din, picked up planets and planets ago, somewhere sunny and warm and an entire lifetime away. When Din’s panicked brown eyes find hers again, Nova smiles, taking a half-step forward, trying to portray anything other than her own frenzied state, the hammering heartbeat that could likely be heard outside of the palace.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Din finally continues, turning back to the crowd. Even from this angle, with most of his face obscured, Nova knows how hard it is for him to stand here, in front of dozens of people, without his helmet, how many rules he thinks he’s breaking, how this must feel like agony. He reaches for the Darksaber hanging on his belt, and when it ignites, every single face in the room is on Din, on that horrific, captivating blade of electricity and death. “I won this in battle. Twice. Both were accidents,” He inhales heavily, studying the flickering, wicked blade. “But they still happened. I wasn’t born on Mandalore. I wasn’t raised here, either. I’ve given some of you this speech before, when I first took the throne.” He exhales through his nose, and Nova wets her dry lips. Her throat feels like the middle of the day on Tatooine, parched and treacherous. “I...I am not a Mandalorian in the way that you’re Mandalorians.” Nova chances another half-step forward, letting the captive, tensioned room blur in her vision as she just focuses on Din. There’s a tremor in his voice, something alive and unsteady, something she only notices because she’s spent over a year studying every inch of him, memorizing Din right down to his bloodstream. “I follow a Creed that you don’t. I’ve spent most of my life trying...trying to be a good soldier, a true Mandalorian. I know I’m not the leader you wanted. I’m not even sure if I’m the leader I wanted. But I’m the one we’ve got, at least for right now. And—” Din exhales sharply, his breath strained, and Nova knows he’s suppressing a sigh, “I swear, I will try my best to do right by this planet. But—but I’m not only the reigning Mand’alor. I’m—”

“Right,” Axe interjects, but there's no malice in his tone. Nova stiffens, crossing her arms over her chest, staring over at him. But he doesn’t look threatening. His smile seems genuine, like he;s just attempting to get Din to lighten up. “And a bounty hunter. A damn good one, at that. He’s caught me twice.”

“Three times,” Nova corrects, and her eyes go wide when she realizes that everyone’s attention is now on her. “But,” she continues, rather nervously, trying to square back her shoulders in a shoddy imitation of Bo-Katan to not display that nervousness, “Din hasn’t been just a bounty hunter in a long time.”

Din sheathes the Darksaber, and instead turns his outstretched hand to Nova. Heart pounding, she slides her hand into his large, gloved one, trying not to show the massive tremble in her fingers. Quietly, he reaches for the Skywaker lightsaber hanging from her belt, and when Nova hesitates, he lets her hand close over the grip instead. Bo-Katan moves forward, so quickly Nova doesn’t even notice, and when she ignites the crisp, illuminated blue blade, half of the people gathered in the throne room draw a weapon. Nova’s expecting Bo-Katan to do the same, but she raises one impeccable eyebrow and turns back towards the room.

“Stop,” she says, and immediately, the majority of the room lowers whatever weapon of choice they’re gripping. Nova manages a tiny, stuttered breath. “She’s not going to hurt us.”

“She,” a voice says from the back of the room, “is wanted by multiple parties. Contacts all over the galaxy will pay a pretty price for Andromeda Maluev, you know. I accepted the cult member as Mand’alor. I accepted you standing down from the throne, Bo-Katan. I will not accept harboring a criminal,” he continues, voice as icy as Hoth, “and a Jedi, at that.”

Din moves forward, all tension, all rage, but Bo-Katan holds up that same, steady hand, and the man making his way across the foreground halts in the same beat that Din does. Nova pulls her own lightsaber back, pocketing it, pulling the shawl higher over her shoulders, trying to unclench her jaw before all of her teeth break off in her mouth. She’s tired. So tired. Exhausted, slogging through this conversation, her heartbeat accelerating, stars shooting out behind her eyes. And still, this time, when she closes them, all she sees is MURDER, MURDER, MURDER.

“Her name,” Bo-Katan returns, measured and cool, “is Novalise Djarin. And yes, she is wanted by both the scum that still survived after the Empire’s demise, and a middleman somewhere in between which we cannot identify yet. Yes, she is a Jedi, or at least is certainly heading in that way. Yes, I stood down from the title. But that wasn’t because I was weak, or because I wanted them on the throne.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Nova,” Bo-Katan interjects, “I’ve got this.” She steps off the lowest stair on the dias, posture perfect, right arm curled around her distinctive helmet. Everything in her screams royalty, regality. Behind her eyes is a fire so much stronger than the ice in her voice. “I didn’t want this. Neither did you. But Din won the Darksaber, fair and square. And Mandalore isn’t what it used to be. None of us are, either. We’re good at surviving, but we’re even better at fighting. And I believe,” she says, pointedly, glancing over at Din, who’s still coiled in an attack position, “that was the point our Mand’alor was getting to. So let him finish. With your mouths closed.”

The man who spoke, wizened but grizzled, exhales angrily through his nose, but his mouth stays clamped shut. Bo-Katan stands at attention, nodding back at Din.

“War is coming,” Din continues stiffly, and half of the people crowded around the room roll their eyes or mutter under their breath.

“War is always coming,” another woman enunciates, “it’s what the galaxy knows best.”

“War is coming,” Din repeats, and Nova has to force herself to unfurl her palms. Before she can even try to jump to his aid, though, he walks down the steps and presses his flat palm against the holotable. Reflected in the glittering dome above them is thousands of pixels of blue light. Nova’s juvenile mugshot is up there for the entire room to see, but so are statistics from every mission they’ve engaged in, anything even remotely related to the Order. Hundreds of faces swarm the screen, all with interwoven lines connecting them to other profiles and rotating planets. There, at the center of the screen, is the First Order’s name in menacing, large letters. Underneath are the silhouettes of Luke, Nova, and Grogu. When Din opens his mouth this time, his words are vivid and clear. “I know that Mandalore has been razed and sieged. I know that in your eyes, I’m not one of you. I know that none of you signed up for another battle. But I also know that fighting,” Din says, his voice weary, but his dark eyebrow raised, “is what’s in our blood. All of us.”

“I won’t follow a ruler who isn’t a true Mandalorian,” the same man finally continues. He steps towards them, and his face is angry and ghastly in the flickering blue light. His rage is barely concealed, and Nova’s hand flies unconsciously to the lightsaber hanging from her belt. “And I certainly won’t protect a Jedi who doesn’t belong here.”

“Well, then,” Nova says, and she’s so bone-dead tired that she doesn’t realize she’s the one who’s speaking until the second word is out of her mouth, “good thing I can protect myself.” She chances a glance at Din, who could very easily be aggravated at her stoking the fire. The only thing written across his face, though, is pride. Nova’s eyes flicker over to Bo-Katan, who is somehow, unbelievably, wearing the same exact expression.

Din slams his fist down on the holotable, sending all of the blue light back into the atmosphere it came from. The low light of the war room is returned to its usual state, but no one speaks. “I don’t expect you to follow what I say. I’m not a dictator, and I have no interest in becoming one. But if a single one of you brings danger to this planet you claim to love to hurt me or my wife,” Din continues, and the way his lips shape around the word wife makes something warm and wet unhinge in Nova, “there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide from me.”

Still, no one moves.

“Mand’alor,” Bo-Katan snaps, icily, all of her usual vigor and venom back in her voice, and it’s like she’s given an order no one can deny. Half of the Mandalorians nod in wary agreement, and the other half keep their low mumbles close to their chests, all of them shuffling out of the throne room, presumably to disperse outside. When the heavy door closes shut, with only the three of them remaining, Bo-Katan turns back to Nova. Din is already climbing the steps back up the dais where the menacing beskar throne sits to retrieve his fallen helmet. When he pulls it back over his handsome face, it’s like closing an open wound.

Nova looks at Bo-Katan, who doesn’t look nearly as threatening in this low light. Her hair is slightly ruffled, and the hard set of her jaw is tense, electric. “Bo-Katan,” Nova whispers, and her gaze snaps impeccably back to Nova’s. “Thank you,” Nova continues, earnest, “for defending me. Defending us. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” Bo-Katan counters, but there’s the ghost of a small smile on her beautiful, cold face. “They were wrong, and they needed to hear that. See? I’m not always a total bitch.”

The word—so commonplace, so foreign—sounds absolutely ludicrous coming out of her mouth that it makes Nova laugh out loud. The sound is both musical and jarring, and the tension held in Bo-Katan’s shoulders evaporates, even if it’s only momentarily.

“Noted,” Nova says, smiling. Maker and all the stars above, she’s exhausted. Bo-Katan glances back at Din, armored and impenetrable, and then back at Nova.

“You need sleep,” Bo-Katan allows, pulling her own helmet back over her head. “Both of you. I’ll stay down here and monitor any incoming correspondence. I’m too wired to go to bed anytime soon.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” Bo-Katan interrupts, and her usual edge is back in her tone. “And I will. Go.” She raises that commanding arm again, and Nova’s too exhausted to resist. She wants to take a shower and wash the last few days off of her, and then sleep for three more. Her scar hurts. Her shoulders ache. Her head feels impossibly heavy. Silently, she lets Din lead her over to the heavy double doors, her ears buzzing with fatigue, but before they step into the hall, Nova hears her name chase her across the war room. In tandem, she and Din turn, watching Bo-Katan ignite the blue holotable. There’s something unreadable about her, even under the helmet. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Bo-Katan says, finally, and the heaviness of her words is louder than the doors when they close on her impenetrable face.

Steam from the shower fills the entire fresher. It’s wet and hot, the humidity seeping deep into Nova’s skin, burrowing under the residual ache from the last few days, nestling between her cold bones from the chill back on Ahch-To, the frigidity back on Hoth. Din joins her once he wrestles off the rest of the armor, and before Nova can explain she wants him, but it’s impossible right now with how exhausted she is, how she can barely keep her eyes open, Din wordlessly lathers up his hands with her favorite, clean-smelling soap, gently raking the suds through her hair.

Nova sighs in the silence, letting her shoulders hunch over, her body weight alleviated by sagging against the warm shower walls and by the soft grip Din has on her arms, making sure she stays upward. For what feels like years, they stand together under the warm running water, reveling in the steam, the heat, without either of them needing to say anything. Din wraps Nova’s long hair up in the freshly washed towel, while she dries off the residual runoff down her arms, her thighs.

The room is cool and dark in the blue twilight, that same fog and haze sinking over the horizon. Wherever the rest of the Mandalorians went, they’ve all but disappeared off the face of the planet. Everything is an eerie kind of quiet, no bugs, no animals, no clamor, nothing that signifies any kind of sentient life outside of the castle. Most nights, that kind of awful silence makes Nova wired, like it permeates even into her dreams, but not here, not now. She has what feels like years’ worth of sleep to catch up on, and the second that Din pulls back the fluffy, silk comforter on their giant bed, Nova steps out of the towel and into the soft cocoon. Din’s barely even settled up behind her before she drifts off somewhere peaceful, somewhere that’s not here.

She sleeps. For hours, maybe days, Nova sleeps. It’s dreamless and empty, warm and safe. Usually, nightmares flicker and flash through her mind, her legs sprinting away from whatever menace or threat is chasing her, but not tonight. Nothing wakes Nova up, not the strange quiet, not Din tossing next to her, not the immeasurable weight of saving the galaxy on her shoulders. She sleeps, uninterrupted and powerfully, swaddled up under the light blue blankets that are somehow keeping all the bad things away.

In the end, it’s not a nightmare that startles her away, nor is it Din’s unshaven face pressing into the crook of her neck. It’s the sleepy, quiet beeping of her commlink, which has somehow been removed from its usual place on her wrist and is buried under the extra pillows that stand sentinel over their bed when neither Nova or Din is there.

Din, at this very moment, is also nowhere to be found, and Nova rakes a hand through her hair, tries and fails to suppress a yawn, and digs through the array of pillows on the floor until she can see the bright, red light. “Hello?” she asks, her voice still off somewhere in dreamland, and she rubs sleep from her eyes as she collapses down on the bed, body still stuck in sleep.

“Hey,” Nova hears, and it’s halfway through another yawn before she realizes it’s Cara calling. “Listen, I’d love to actually catch up, but—”

“You have news?” Nova asks, suddenly wide awake. She smooths the comforter out under her hand, crossing one of her legs underneath the other. Outside, the sky is dark.

“I have news,” Cara confirms, grimly. “I know Wedge called you to Hoth a week or so ago because there was a prison break somewhere outside of my jurisdiction.”

Nova nods before she remembers Cara can’t see her. “Yeah,” she adds, belatedly. “Yeah, but no one seemed suspicious or in league with the Order, and it was a holding cell full of minor offenders, so it was kind of a dead end.”

“Well, it was,” Cara sighs, “until it wasn’t. We were right, kind of, because no one who escaped was linked to the First Order. But the night after that prison break happened, your photo with your old name and manufactured crimes popped up as a hit from the Guild.”

Nova’s heart sinks. Something suffocating is blocking her airway, and she tries to swallow past the feeling before she can exhale. “What does that mean?” she manages, barely, hand fluttering around her necklace, pressing into the embossed star.

“Someone’s setting you up,” Cara continues, and her voice is gentler than Nova’s ever heard it. “Someone who likely knows you or Din, knows how to get under your skin. The reason why this is so dangerous is because whoever did it knows exactly what they’re doing. I’ve tried, and Karga has tried, but we can’t even identify where the hit originated from, let alone who put it out. We’re not going to stop looking, but it’s going to be hard to figure out who did it. And because the warrant is for you alive or dead…” Cara trails off, the silence buzzing and dangerous.

Nova closes her eyes before she fills in the blanks. “I’m going to be in danger anywhere I go.”

“Listen,” Cara tries, but it’s too late. Nova’s still exhausted, she’s in pain, she has no idea where Din went, and all she wants to do is to bury her face in Grogu’s head and smell his sweet, reassuring baby smell. Her heart aches. “Novalise, I’m not going to let them get to you. You have some of the strongest forces in the galaxy who’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Nova whispers, “and I appreciate that, Cara, I do, so much, but—but Mandalore isn’t exactly a safe haven, either. The planet knows I can use the Force, and besides that, most of the people Din’s supposed to be ruling hate our guts. I’m not scared of being left to defend myself, because it’s kind of what I’ve learned to be best at. But with what you’re telling me, there’s not a single safe place left in the galaxy for me right now.”

Cara’s silence is deafening. Nova’s heart sinks just a little bit deeper, swimming around somewhere in her stomach. “It’s not forever,” she says, but her voice is a little too glum to be anywhere near reassuring.

“I’m so tired,” Nova admits, feeling tears bubbling up at the corners of her eyes. “And I can’t rest, because that’s when someone can get me. I mean—what would you do, if you were me, Cara?”

Nova can hear Cara moving, a soft rustle underneath the comm. When she speaks again, her voice is low and clear, like she’s telling a secret that only Nova can hear. “I would do what we both know you’re going to do. You’re the rebel girl, remember?” She pauses. “So rebel.”

Nova watches as the comm clicks off, everything in her body electric, a live wire. Before she can bolt to Kicker, or try to find where Din’s hidden in the chambers of the palace, or call Wedge and tell him she’s coming back to Hoth, the door opens, and Din walks in.

“Hi,” Nova breathes, suddenly very aware she’s not wearing any clothes, which is completely ridiculous, because Din has seen, ravaged, and worshipped every inch of it. “Where were you?”

She watches as Din crosses over the floor, the low light of the day catching on his armor. He sighs, moving closer to Nova until he’s standing in between her open legs. Halfheartedly, he hooks his fingers under the rim of the helmet, but gives up completely the second Nova’s hands reach to pull it off instead. Underneath, his mustache isn’t manicured, his hair has been weighed down by the metal, and he looks about as exhausted as she feels.

“Ruling,” Din says, tiredly, and there’s a flint to it Nova hardly hears. He lets out a small scoff in the silence, and she reaches out the smooth palm of her right hand for his cheek to nestle against. “Trying to get the people of this planet to recognize I’m not here to destroy it, or that you—we’re not the enemy.” He catches his slip almost as quickly as it comes out of his mouth, but still, Nova’s heart sinks deep down in her chest again. “I didn’t—look, Nova, I’m not blaming you—”

“It’s okay,” she whispers, even though they both know it’s not. For a second, Din just stares at her, and then he presses his forehead against hers. The warmth his skin gives off is almost enough to make her forget about where they are, about the people that refuse to see her as an ally, about having to save the galaxy from forces that want her dead or for their own malicious intent. “They’ll come around,” she offers, her voice barely there, and Din shakes his head, his hair rustling against Nova’s forehead.

“What if they don’t?” Din asks, and by the weight in his voice, it’s clear he’s not just talking about Mandalore accepting her as the Mand’alor’s riduur, as an ally, as on their side, but about the infiltrated Guild that’s out to kill her, and the First Order that’s out for worse.

Nova’s quiet for a long time, just listening to him breathe, trying to map both of their heartbeats, yearning for the constellations hiding above the hazy Mandalore sky. “What if we can’t do it?” she whispers, her mouth hollow, her head aching. “Any of this? What if we can’t pull this off, Din?” She doesn’t point out the specifics, the weight of planets hanging over both of their heads. They both know what she means. The silence is horrible, but Nova keeps her eyes closed, just like she used to, predicting every move Din will make in the dark.

“Then we don’t,” Din breathes back, and Nova’s about to resist, tears springing back to life in her eyes, and then Din’s mouth is on hers and nothing else matters. She lets him sprawl her back on the bed, the smooth satin coaxing and cool under her skin. Stars are burning out behind her eyes, the same celestial imprints that flood through hyperspace, something more, something deeper, something beyond this planet, this moment, this darkness. When Din’s mouth leaves Nova’s, her eyes stay shut, and his lips trail down to her ear. “I’d give everything else up but you.”

They both know he’s lying—Din’s heart is too big, Nova’s purpose is too bright—but neither of them say it out loud. Nova keeps his words in the hollow of her mouth, something shiny and devastating, a supernova or a pearl.

Din kisses Nova like he’s never had her before, low and desperate. It’s an echo of what happened in the amphitheater just hours ago, but it’s sustained, huge, warm. His mouth is made to devour, and if he’s whispering anything to feel the silence, Nova can’t hear it. She’s focused on where his kisses are trailing, desperate and hot and everything she didn’t know she needed. It’s freezing in here, but he’s so warm, his body heat louder than the cold.

“Kiss me,” Din whispers, his voice rough, a plea. One of his hands comes up and braces against Nova’s chin, not an order, but a question. She reaches towards his neck, trying to pull him down, to anchor their bodies together. It’s dark in their room. Without the stars shining above, it’s even darker.

She’s so tired. Still, even after all that rest, it’s like the exhaustion has permeated Nova straight down to her bones. She shudders and sighs as Din moves down her naked body, his lips planting kisses that she doesn’t know she needs until he’s already there. It’s easy and devastating and wonderful and crushing all at once. When Nova tries to return the favor, Din gently pushes her down, mumbling something about taking care of her.

It’s sweet. So sweet, even, that she’s on the verge of tears. Nova would do anything to stay here forever, to feel her husband’s lips on her bare skin, washing away all of the horror, the trauma, the darkness. She doesn’t open her eyes, even though she wants to. Din’s spent so much time without his helmet to appear like one of the people that call themselves Mandalorians, and she wants to give him back every single second of the time that prying eyes stole away.

Before long, Nova’s already close—her orgasm bubbling up quietly, without fanfare, without dramatics, just because Din knows exactly how to make her body sing—and when she taps at his arm to let him know, his mouth unlatches from the small hickies he’s leaving on the terrain of her bare stomach, and moves in between her thighs.

Effortlessly, he hold her legs up, hooking both of them around his shoulders so that his tongue can stay anchored in place. Nova moans, a quiet, radiant thing, and Din’s tongue finds exactly where she needs it to go. It pulses there, on the sweetest of spots, over and over again until she’s finished.

Breathless, she claws at his pants again, but Din shakes his head, his mouth dropping to her forehead as he pulls her into bed. “Rest, Nova,” he whispers, his voice faraway, a deep rumble. He pulls her in against his body, warm and soothing, and both of them are out before their heads hit their pillow.

Din’s asleep next to her, his slow, even breaths barely anything even in all the silence. Nova wants to fall back to sleep, but she knows she can’t. Her heartbeat is running itself rampant, and she’s a tangle of wants and needs, everything pulled in opposite directions. As quietly as she can, she slides herself out from the protective warmth of Din’s arms and the comforter, gently placing her feet on the floor. Even in the cool darkness of the night, her wardrobe, sleek but huge, has nothing but clothes in the same shades of Mandalorian blue, of beskar silver, but right now, Novalise doesn’t want to be a Mandalorian. She doesn’t want to be royalty, doesn’t want to be a figurehead. She doesn’t exactly want to be a Rebel either, because both titles mean the ultimate fate of the Outer Rim and beyond in her hands, so she settles for somewhere in between.

When she’s all dressed—black monochrome right down to her scuffed boots, in a weak imitation of the Luke Skywalker style—she braids the top half of her hair back, sleek and functional, and chooses a shawl buried at the back of her closet, underneath all of the Mandalorian haze of clothing. It’s a stormy grey that shimmers with the silver her husband wears when the fabric catches the light. If you pay close enough attention to the shawl, small, intentional stitches of rust and orange are woven into the fabric, hidden, furious, tiny flames.

Not exactly Mandalorian, but not entirely Rebel, either. And when Nova looks at herself in the mirror, studying the way her eyes flash with all that fire she was so certain was gone a few minutes ago, she sees herself right down to the quick, the high wire in between—she looks something like a Jedi.

So she pulls the Skywalker family lightsaber out of the hook on her door and pulls it to her belt loop, watching as the metal sways and dances in the low light. The weapon seems ancient, like something from another world. Something holy, even though she knows Luke Skywalker is a man and not a myth.

When she closes the bedroom door behind her, Din doesn’t even move. Usually, Nova’s the loud and clumsy one, worlds more obnoxious than Din’s practiced quiet, but she’s grown into her stealth over the last few weeks, especially living here, in a palace that has more rooms than the planet does people. It’s strange and eerie here at night, down the sprawling marble stairs, and she takes the first corridor she can find, just trying to walk off some of the pressure, to put her head back on her shoulders.

It’s lit only by candlelight, an archaic, flickering warmth, so in contrast to the rest of the steel and metal that Mandalore is made up of. It’s like she’s stepped into something that’s been around for years, even though she knows that it’s not possible. Mandalore was sieged, usurped, sieged again, razed and brought to the ground, destroyed. The planet’s atmosphere is mostly ash and haze, all that leftover war from years ago. But this part of the palace looks older, like a tomb that somehow survived.

It’s too creepy, Nova decides, even though the curious part of her is itching to explore it. She wants to pore through every aspect of it, try to find remnants of lost Mandalore, like her father used to unearth texts, like her mother used to excavate history. Before the war, before the Alliance was necessary, before all this death and darkness. When Nova comes out the other end of the corridor, she’s right next to the intimidating double doors of the war room, the holiest place Mandalore has. She pulls her shawl a little closer to her body, trying to retain the warmth she left back upstairs, trying to hold onto a memory more than anything tangible.

Nova isn’t intending to slip into the war room, let alone walk towards the sprawling dais that holds the beskar throne, but she does. It’s still quiet, so quiet, and the dark is coaxing her closer, pulling her up the steps, something beyond a simple want or need. She has the sneaking suspicion that she’s not supposed to be in here, not this late, not without Din, not when she has no legal or physical right to this place, but when she sits down on the throne, something deeper echoes out from within her chest.

It feels like a hymn and a battle cry. Before she has a second to adjust, to rationalize anything, everything becomes starry and disconnected. It’s been so long since she had a Force vision this immediate, this intense, and it hurls her through the proverbial hyperspace, everything dropping away.

It takes three steps forward in this strange, terrifying liminal space before Nova can even identify what’s scaring her. It’s the same kind of evil she felt way back on Takodana, before she was married to the ruler of a planet, before she even knew it was her destiny to be both Rebel and Jedi. There’s a mask she doesn’t recognize, twisted and devious. Behind its menacing, blank expression is something horrifying. Looking into the visor, it’s like her own soul is being fractured into pieces.

It’s humanoid until it’s not. The figure wearing the mask of destruction is tall, easily a foot taller than she is, horrible and menacing. But when the lightsaber they’re using ignites, it’s scarier than the vision of the person at all. It’s awful. It looks like it was forged out of lava, menacing red, the blade flickering and hissing in a way that’s somehow even more terrifying than the stark contrast of the Darksaber’s blade. Nova gasps, the light too bright, too sudden, and she can feel the residual thud on the floor, even in the vision. She knows when she comes out of it, she’ll be hurt, but the blade is getting closer. It looks like a giant rapier, a sword made only for evil things. At the hilt, spraying out in both directions, the blade extends. When the figure in the mask swings, it’s without remorse, so quick, so terrible.

But Nova’s not the target. She rolls away, out of the strike zone, and then she hears Luke Skywalker’s voice cutting through the darkness. She turns, and suddenly she’s not in the horror of the vision, anymore. She doesn’t know where she is. The ground looks icy, like Hoth, but there’s red powder spit everywhere, vomited across giant salt deposits. It’s so bright that her hand comes up in front of her eyes, and when she lowers it, Luke is gone. She’s gone, too. She turns around, hair whipping in the furious wind, trying to find where her name is being cried, and she trips over a mound on the salty ground, and when she falls to her knees, it’s a person, newly slain. The blood is so red, redder than the powder, redder than the evil lightsaber. It drowns through the lines on her hands, slips through her long fingers. She screams, trying to back up from the body, and then she realizes it’s Bo-Katan, gurgling through the slit in her throat, and when Nova tries desperately, in vain, to buffer the blood spilled, Luke Skywalker calls her name again.

But it’s not Luke. It is him—for a second, for the tiniest fraction of a moment—but then it’s not. His lightsaber floods with red, cancelling out the green light. The hallway flickers, once, twice, and then Darth Vader is charging towards her, and all Nova can hear is her blood pounding frantically in her ears and his heavy breathing through his mask, the sound that used to fill all of her nightmares. She’s slamming on the door at the other end of the hallway, and when it opens, the only person standing there isn’t a person at all, but a small alien baby all of two feet tall, green and adorable, and Nova drops her body around her son, protective and sobbing, curling every single inch of her around his tiny little frame, trying to shield him from Vader’s wrath, but when she cries, the vision changes again.

She can feel the motion sickness bubbling up in her stomach, horrible and nauseating. When Nova lands, she doesn’t open her eyes. She’s seen more than enough. Even right now, in the middle of her Force vision, all she wants to do is go back to sleep. She can feel the ache she slept away burrowing right back into her bones. Her scar is pulsing, enraged and angry. The headache she spent the last two and a half weeks fighting off is back, radiating straight down to behind her left eye. It’s all too much, and she can’t look. She doesn’t want to see anything else.

“Novalise,” she hears again, and the only reason she opens her eyes this time is because it’s her mother speaking. Her mother, who only ever called her Andromeda. Her mother, who spent half her life in the stars. Her mother, long dead. Her mother, who never got to know this version of her daughter, this Jedi-in-training, royal Rebel Girl that just desperately needs a hug from her mom.

“Mom,” she cries, and it’s so white. Everything here is antiseptic and deafening. It doesn’t even look like a planet, or even a room, or anything at all. She’s not even sure if there’s a floor, but Nova starts running like she’s never ran before in her life. Her breath is ragged and coming out in bursts. The jiggle in her chest and thighs burn under her speed, but she doesn’t care. She’s racing towards her mother, towards open arms, towards everything she’s been cheated out of for the last ten years.

It lasts for a second. Just a second. The figure is Piper Maluev, her skin dark and radiant, her hair down to her waist. Her lips are wide open and welcoming, her eyes crinkled at the seams. She’s tall and radiant and strong, and she’s everything Nova’s missed for nearly half her life.

And then it isn’t Piper. It’s not Luke, either, or Darth Vader, or whoever the dark, terrible, masked figure was. It’s not her usual nightmare transformation of Jacterr Calican. It’s not Bo-Katan, convulsing and dying. It’s Din. Just for a moment, a tiny fraction of relief, and then it’s not Din, either.

It’s a woman Nova’s never seen before, and her hand is clamped firmly around Nova’s windpipe. Like it’s nothing, she pulls her right off the disappearing floor and choking the life out of her. Her eyes are light but so terrifyingly menacing, her hair is a mess of a dark blonde. She’s pale and awful and her face is gleeful as she pulls the life out of Nova, a sucking, open wound.

She can’t talk. She doesn’t even want to plead for her life. If she’s this close to death anyway, and she just saw her mother, Nova figures there’s a pretty damn good chance that both of her parents are just over the other side. The woman is so happy to be killing Nova off, she doesn’t want to fight it. When her grip recedes, just for a half a second, Nova chokes out a confession that makes everything else grind to a halt.

It’s four words. Barely anything. Tears are streaming down her cheeks when her lips finally open. “I want my mom.”

Then she’s being dropped onto the floor, which very much exists now, and the light room filled with nothingness curls away, receding like it’s being burned. It’s dark in here, the tiled floor slippery and treacherous. In the background, there’s a makeshift trophy made from what looks like bones. Nova’s gasping for air, fighting back with a newfound vigor, kicking her legs helplessly to try and get some leverage on this woman who wants her dead, when, suddenly, she’s at eye level with her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she seethes, a terrifying smile still spread across her horrible, beautiful face. “When I find you, you’re going to be begging for your life instead of your death.”

“Who—who are you?” Nova manages, through agony. Her shoulders hurt. Her headache feels like it’s trying to split her jaw in half. Her scar feels like it’s being reopened. Everything is torture, and she can’t even breathe.

“You’ll see,” the woman whispers, and her voice is so deadly that Nova internally corrects every time she’s ever called Bo-Katan venomous. Bo-Katan Kryze is a flower. One of the iridescent, gorgeous ones, that lined all the brush on Yavin, the ones Nova’s spent years pressing into the pages of every journal she’s ever owned. She’s kind and lovely and Nova’s very best friend, and when she gets out of this alive, Nova’s going to tell Bo-Katan that. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Andromeda.”

Nova heaves one giant breath into her lungs, trying to muster up anything that she can, even if it’s just more air. “I—” she starts, and the woman smiles again, loaded and dangerous. “I—I already did that, you miserable bitch,” Nova manages, and when she’s slammed into the awful floor, it’s worth it. There’s some kind of desperation behind the woman’s eyes, now and when her hand finds Nova’s throat again, she spits in her face.

And then she’s out of it. Hurtled out of it, actually, like a dying starfighter in the middle of space. She gasps and heaves on the floor, and as her sight comes back, her breathing does, too. Her head is still killing her. Her shoulders feel like they’re trying to carry the entire weight of Mandalore. Her scar is awful, white-hot and painful to the touch. Somewhere, distantly, her knees hurt like she’s fallen to them, and when she gains back her sense of sight and the feeling of her life being choked out of her body subsides, Nova realizes she has fallen to them. She’s fallen a lot, actually, down multiple steps leading to the floor from the raised platform where she was once sitting in the beskar throne. Nova shudders, inhaling through a terrible wheeze, curling her legs up close to her chest, trying to shake off the absolute shitshow that just hurtled her through the most traumatic Force vision she’s ever had.

“You,” comes a booming, rueful voice, and when Nova’s eyes flutter open, she’s expecting it to be the malicious, purple-haired woman from her vision. Her eyes take a second to adjust, her left one throbbing from the horrid ache pulsing behind it, and when she finally locates the source, it’s the miserable man from the gathering earlier.

“Can I help you?” Nova asks, her voice shooting up at the end, on the verge of tears.

“You aren’t supposed to be up there,” he spits, and Nova squints up at the throne she’d just fallen from.

“I know,” she whispers, dully. She presses a shaking hand to the ache behind her eye, trying to shut out this conversation like she wishes she’d ignored the vision. She tries to stand up, but her knees are too bruised to sustain pulling her to her feet, so she just slumps back against the step she’s on, trying to muster all the strength she has in her exhausted body to not break down. “I’m sorry,” Nova tacks on, the words barely there. “I—I wasn’t intending to sit here, or even come in the room, it just—”

“Happened,” he finishes, oddly calm. His voice sounds closer. Much closer. Nova opens her right eye, and he’s only at the bottom of the staircase. There’s something so wretched and dangerous about the energy he’s giving off, and she wants to run, but she’s in no position to even stand, let alone fight him off, so she just sits there, curling her knees into her chest, pulling her shawl as tight as she can against her upper body. “You’re an abomination.”

A laugh, the traitorous thing, bubbles up inside Nova’s throat. It’s not funny. It’s not. It’s pathetic, and likely racially motivated, but she can’t help herself. Her ribs ache, like they got banged up in her distant fall down these sharp, steep marble steps. “That, surprisingly, is not the first time I’ve been called an abomination in my life.”

“Do you know what the Jedi did to our people, little girl?” He’s angry. Nova can hear it in his voice. And normally, it would scare her, trigger her fight or flight reflex, keep her moving, but after her paranormal face-off with two of the scariest figures she’s ever seen, this one isn’t really that high up on our list. “I do. You were eradicated for good reason. You scorched our planet down to nothing, and now you and your cult leader husband come back here and try to take over? Not on my watch.”

Nova can feel him getting closer. He’s so much bigger than she is, up close, tall and buff, menacing and taut. She weakly pulls her hand away from her eye, trying to at the very least give him her full attention, but she’s so fucking tired. It’s in her bones, at this point. She doesn’t want to be royalty. She doesn’t want to be a Rebel. And, in contrast to what the man in front of her is screaming, she doesn’t want to be a Jedi.

She wants to be the Novalise she was on Naator, with nothing but domesticity and yellow leaves and pink skies. She wants to be the protector she was out there in hyperspace. And, for the first time in ten years, she wants to be Andromeda Maluev, fifteen and gleeful, running around Yavin knowing the stars were her destiny and that evil could always be defeated.

“I don’t even want to be here,” Nova whispers, finally, and it’s like something inside her breaks.

“Good,” the man spits, “then we’re in agreement.” And then his hands are yanking away the hood of her shawl and tangling in her braided hair. Nova’s scream gets cut off as she’s thrown down the rest of the stairs, like her body’s giving up. She chokes out something horrible, fighting to get to her bruised, banged up knees, sore from the fall, aching from the blissful time riding Din’s face less than an hour ago, but she can’t summon the strength. Somewhere, she knows Luke Skywalker is yelling at her to use the Force, but Nova’s had enough force today to last a lifetime. When she’s kicked in the stomach, brutal and awful, she just curls in on herself, hoping her death isn’t a slow one. He startles towards her again, ripping her shawl off of her body, clawing at the meat of her upper arm, and something snaps inside of her. If she’s going to die, really die, it’s not because she succumbed to the injuries this rabid Mandalorian is giving her to try and put the blame on her shoulders. She survived Moff Gideon. She survived Din and Grogu leaving her. She survived her parents dying. And she survived the abuse of Jacterr Calican’s awful hands. Novalise can survive this.

When her lightsaber roars to life in her hands, it’s not only Nova swinging. She can feel the weight of what it being the Skywalker family lightsaber, of Luke and Leia before her, of his father before him, of all the generations yet to come to wield this weapon, this holy sword, this impossible thing. It takes all of her energy, a brilliant beam of blue light, and then she falls to the floor, knowing that even if this is where it ends, that she fought back.

Everything next comes in flashes. It’s in these tiny fractals like what happened when the Crest had died right over Dagobah and crashed to the surface. She sees a blade ignite, and in between the rhythm of her fading in and out of consciousness, Nova thinks she’s just watching herself fight the man back. Suddenly, he drops to the floor, his body nothing but dead weight, and she wants to scream, but she’s back out. It’s horrible and deafening. She’s being scooped up, she can feel that. She’s crying. She’s definitely crying. There are voices, loud ones. When she has enough strength to open her eyes again, Din is slamming his gloved fist against the airlock on Kicker, his voice frantic. She can’t make out what he’s saying, though, and another face appears above her. Din gently transfers Nova’s limp body into someone else’s arms, and when Nova looks up, it’s Bo-Katan, her face so panicked it’s almost impossible to recognize who it is.

“Nova, you gotta stay awake,” Bo-Katan whispers, her palm slapping softly at Nova’s cheek. “C’mon, I mean it. If you die here on this planet you hate, I will haunt you in the afterlife. I swear, you have to stay awake.”

“I don’t—” Nova starts, and Bo-Katan shakes her head.

“You literally should not be talking,” Bo-Katan says, her eyesight dipping to Nova’s neck. Her eyes widen for a second and then her smooth fingers ghost over the outline. Nova coughs at her light touch, and she realizes that the marks from the vision she had of being choked within an inch of her life are here, that they followed her back out of the vision and into this moment. “Nova, no, shut up, I’m serious—”

“I don’t—don’t hate Mandalore,” she manages, her voice sounding like shards of glass, and Bo-Katan offers her a hasty, worried smile.

“You do,” Bo-Katan argues, but her voice is so gentle. “But don’t worry, princess, we’re getting you the hell off of it. No complaints now that you’re off Mandalore, you got it? The second you got here, I knew both of you wanted to leave.”

Din’s at her side again, and Bo-Katan kneels down, gently placing Nova in her familiar tangle of blankets and pillows. Nova’s eyes close again, and when they slide back open, Bo-Katan is standing, trading worried glances and hushed tones with Din.

Nova’s head hurts. So bad. It’s splitting down the middle of her skull, actually, but all she can do is press a hand over her eye and try to block out the familiar low light of the ship that smells more like home than this entire planet ever had.

“Listen, about what I told you back on Hoth—”

“It’s fine,” Din cuts her off, and his next few words are warbled. “I get it. Your allegiance is to Mandalore, not to us.”

Nova can’t hear Bo-Katan’s answer. In fact, she’s not even sure if there’s even words being spoken, because the next time she looks up, Bo-Katan is just staring down at her, incredibly concerned, such an obvious change from her usually stoic expression. Nova’s whole body feels like it’s on fire. She’s exhausted. Bo-Katan kneels down again, just for a split second, to pull the loose end of Nova’s shawl over the rest of her folded body. Nova wants to cry.

“Flower,” she garbles, nonsensically. She’s trying to tell Bo-Katan that she’s sorry for all the animosity, that she trusts her, and more than that, she likes her. It doesn't make a single lick of sense to anyone outside of Nova’s head, but Bo-Katan offers a tiny smile anyway.

“Here,” Din says, stiffly, holding out the sheathed blade of the Darksaber to Bo-Katan. Nova’s eyes flutter closed, just for a beat, and when they open back up, Bo-Katan is pushing the weapon back into Din’s grip.

“It’s not mine,” she insists. “Besides, you’re not getting out of it that easy. You’ll be back.”

“Bo-Katan—”

“Take care of her,” Bo-Katan interrupts. Nova blacks out again until they’re up in hyperspace. Din’s body is shielding her from the cold, his limbs draped all over the places that hurt the least. When she opens her eyes, they’re floating through the cosmos, and all her eyes can see is sweet, sweet stardust.

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oingo233 · 3 years

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Rapture is a Boy (2)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior? And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader

Warning: brief talk of weight (as someone who is overweight I would never write anything or imply that being overweight is a bad thing, I know society deems it as less beautiful but the truth is that we are so beautiful, every single one of us despite our weight/size or appearance, we just have a different journey to self-love than those who are conventionally pretty, a much harder path to confidence no doubt, but let me remind you that you are breath taking because most to all of beauty is the uniqueness that one has), some angst sprinkled into this one, get ready for loads of it later, bitches like em’ sad, it’s me, I’m bitches. Also, there are some cuss words, nothing too bad though. Self-doubt, cheating is mentioned.

Authors note: I try to keep my writing(self inserts) gender, body type, ethnicity and house neutral/not specified. If I ever slip up please let me know so that I can change it. Remus’s/3rd POV is italicized, it switches back and forth briefly to better show the relationship and luv. Shit will go down in the next chapter, enjoy the little amounts of fluff and joy in this one while it lasts mwhahaha!

Word Count: 2k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Part Two

**** Chocolate Pudding ****

I was distracted in class for the second time this month, all because of Remus Lupin. He plagued my mind, and now Lucy accompanies him even in my thoughts. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, and I almost never do. But Lily saying I should talk to him, and Lucy running off to comfort Remus when it should have been me, pushed me into a full spring leap. And the conclusion I leapt to was a heartbreaking one, but with all the confidence of the world I believed it. It’s the only thing that makes sense with what I know now. He’s cheating on me.

He told me earlier today, he will be studying in the library with the rest of the marauders before dinner. I will meet and talk to him there, I decided, wringing my fingers and then wiping the sweat off on my robes. Because although yes, I do think he could be cheating on me, I know Remus is a great person. Great people don’t cheat, right?

“Lily, you don’t think he’s cheating do you?” I blurted out, whispering it softly to her through her blockade of dark red hair. She turned to me flabbergasted, her mouth agape to me.

“No,” She says definitely. “Remus is not that person...” There is a silence as I nod blankly at her, I know she is being truthful but she wants to say more. I tug on her robe sleeves, I need to hear what she wants to say but can’t bring myself to ask aloud. What if I don’t like the answer?

“But I think, that ya should talk to him about it. He seems off, no? Maybe it isn’t Lucy at all. You’re jumping to conclusions.” She gives me a pointed look and I nod now in both acceptance and thanks.

“You’re right. I’m being a git.” We both laugh, my mind now eased slightly. We continue to talk amongst ourselves here n there throughout the class. I mentioned James once and she glares at me, but I smile and say,

“Gee Lily, your hair looks awfully bright with that complimentary blush of yours.” She nearly shoves me off my stool. Spending alone time with Lily (despite the large group of students around us) was refreshing, I felt a lot lighter. But the thought of this up coming confrontation with the love of my life once again settled above me like a dark cloud.

It was the last period and it ended minutes ago, I am now making my way up to the library. To Remus. The doors were heavy but glided over the floor as I opened them, the room smelt of old books and dusty pages. I inhaled deeply and smiled to myself, it smells slightly like Remus. Speaking of, his laughter rings out and without a second to waste, Peter, Remus, Sirius and James are shushed aggressively.

I turn around the corner to finally meet them and they’re huddled over some large piece of parchment. Giggling and whispering to themselves, heads nearly clinking together. I clear my throat as so not to intrude. Remus quickly turns to me, his eyes wide in surprise before he stands and hugs me, enclosing my head in his chest.

“(y/n), what a lovely surprise. How was class?” I muffled a hello into his sweater, and can hear shuffling around, from the boys and only when the sound ceased did Remus let go of me. He rubbed his hands down my arms, and smiled warmly down at me. Before I could answer James leans his head in his hand, breathing heavy, he turns to me.

“How’s Lils? Ya have that class with her, right?” I roll my eyes and sit down beside them, Remus stands behind me. The paper is gone but I pay it no mind.

“Yes,” I chuckle to myself, remembering her blush at just the mention of his name. “She’s doing quite well actually. And you boys? Any mischievous plans stuffed up your sleeves? 20, maybe?” They all look at one another and shrug, Peter shook his head yes. Sirius hit his arm and shook his head no, dramatically until Peter followed along. Then the two turn to me and I laugh, not pushing the obvious truth of a scheme from them. They’re sly when they want to be, so this was a definite bashful action. Cheeky.

“Hey love, we’ll meet you down at dinner yeah?” My heart sank for the 2nd, no 3rd time that day. When did Remus get so dismissive? The boys stared up at him a little, mouths agape before they turned to me with soft smiles.

“We’ll miss you dearly until then,” Sirius adds, once again in high spirits.

“Yes, and don’t eat all the pudding in spite.” Peter makes sure to add after last time I did such a thing. It was Peters favorite and he once said I looked bigger when I returned at the train station for the beginning of the year, after the summer of puberty, when really he was just awkwardly talking about how I grew taller and more into myself, good bigger, he thought. But, like anyone with ears I assumed he was calling me fat (fat and all shapes and sizes is beautiful and worthy of love and appreciation, but when someone, such as Peter, implies such a thing to another, in such a way, they could only mean it harmfully so of course I was not going to let that shite slide), so that night I shoveled in all the chocolate pudding before he could get even one bite.

Remus was laughing hysterically with the other boys, as I smirked a blob of pudding fell out between my lips, and Peter looked like he was going to cry. I remember Remus pulled me aside that night to clear up the misunderstanding. He awkwardly confessed it was about my surprising change in appearance, and that I actually look very beautiful. We snogged later that year and the rest is history. (Though the romantic build up was a lot more romantic than just snogging, Remus can be a romantic kind of guy, now was not once of those moments.)

I turn to him.

“Okay. See you then!” I fake the cheeriness in my voice and hope my breath isn’t too shaky as I go and kiss Remus’s cheek. He kisses the very edge of my lips distractedly as I pull away, far from our usual goodbye kisses. I make my way out of the library before stopping in my tracks to yell something over my shoulder.

“The pudding is yours Peter, though it’ll look more appetizing each time you bring that night up,” I expected laughter, or for Peter to say something, anything in response but instead there is silence. I turn around to see the large parchment out again, and the boys huddled over it animatedly.

Thoroughly aggravated, I huff my way down to the dorm and rant to Lily about it all. Then she suggests both the best and the worst idea we, as intellectual, well-put together (well we like to think so) people, have had all day.

“Well, maybe we could throw a little party? Lift your spirits a wee bit, huh love?” Lily suggest, after the fifth time I explain the library scene and how rejected it made me feel. Remus did not want my company, he sat behind my chair and waited until he could ‘politely’ tell me to go, after ignoring me half the day since the incident with Snape.

“And,” she continues, twiddling her thumbs anxiously. “it can be like an impromptu date for Remus and you, if he comes, because of course we’ll invite him-”

“And James,” I smirk, she glares at the way I rudely cut her off but I think she did it more so because of the blush that arose to her cheeks.

“er, sure. But as I was saying, it could be good for you too. I know he hasn’t been spending much time with you lately and everything.” She glances over at a giggling Lucy adorned in red and gold. I scoff bitterly.

“Yeah we haven’t. But ya know what, it’s nothing new innit. He always gets like this.” I stab my dinner with a fork and hear a chuckle coming up from behind me. Peter glances over my shoulder at the chocolate pudding bowl in front of me, seeing as it is still very much full he bows to me and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you, O’ so gracious one,” I can’t fight the laugh, though Remus may upset me, his friends are good blokes that always cheer me up, or at least try too.

The boys all pile in next to us, though it’s been a while since dinner started, they’re a bit late because of whatever they were doing in the library.

Remus saw you and his heart stopped you were, as always breath taking but tonight you looked off, you were stabbing your food with frustration, something must be wrong? You always happily eat your meals, and your laughter is always the first he hears when he walks into the great hall. He watches as Peter makes you laugh, he feels a little off seeing you act this way with Peter. You, lately haven’t been as light hearted around him.

He sits down next to you and is eager to apologize for his behavior earlier. He wanted to take the words back right after his comment. As if he wasn’t feeling bad enough James and the boys ripped into him.

“Bloody hell mate, you might as well demanded she left.” The room was silent as all 4 of them nodded in agreement, Remus included. He sat down and grumbled to himself as they pulled out the marauders map. The very reason he was eager for you to leave, he didn’t want you to see the latest secret of his. Another one of his reasons to be riddled with guilt, he felt so dishonest with you. And he’s been more and more moody with the full moon coming out tonight.

Tonight, as they made their way to the shrieking shack they were going to map it on the marauders map. They were so close to finishing and Remus was eager to, between the map and his soon to be shift he’s had less time to spend with you. Which means less time with your smile, and kisses, and hugs and laughter and bloody hell did he feel like we was going through withdrawal.

But he feels, though the boys disagree, that he should keep his distance from you before full moons. He gets too quite, and angry, and annoyed, he’d hate for you to see this side of him, and all his flaws, and leave him. He wouldn’t survive the pain, he wanted to marry you one day.

“ello’ darling,” Remus whispers into my ear, kissing my cheek. James stares at us before looking lovingly at Lily, who is looking back with raised brows As if to say ‘what now, potter’.

“ello’ darling,” James copies, leaning down to give Lily a kiss on her cheek but she pushes his shoulders back, nonetheless he pulls back with a smile.

“Worth a shot, you’ll miss it one day Evans, once my heart has had enough and I become a reclusive slug,” He says matter-of-factly as he begins to pile food onto his plate.

“I’d act quick Lily, he’s already beginning to look like one.” Sirius leans into to say, though his hair dangles in the pudding making Peter yelp. Remus removes the pudding and adds some to Peters plate.

“You should thank him, grease adds flavor to everything.” Sirius gasps and turns to Remus with slitted eyes. The whole rest of us are laughing, and trying desperately to keep the volume at a minimum as Sirius runs his hand through his hair and tries to rub “the grease” over Remus face.

“If only grease could erase that smirk off your face, mate. I’ll find a way,” Sirius grits as he wrestles Remus who is bumping slightly into me fighting him off. He turns his head during the battle of a lifetime, and apologizes to me for the rough housing, though the look in his eyes seemed like he was sorry for much more. I was taken aback slightly, so I shrug with a loving smile.

Eventually we all finish our dinner and Lily invites the table to our party, all of Gryffindor table actually. Many cheered and said they’d come and bring friends, some even declared to bring butterbeer by the jugfull. But the Marauders just stared at us with a frown.

“We, uh, we can’t make it tonight. Haven’t done enough studying for the exam. I can’t fail this one (y/n), you know that...” Peter trails off and I almost feel bad, maybe the party was a bad idea. The boys all nod along and Lily and I swallow our pride and doubts before telling them it was fine.

Lily holds my arm as we walk back.

“They’re just studying, nothing else to it.” But we both saw the way Lucy stuck behind as well.

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@crazylokonugget @beyondprincess

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heyitssmiller · 4 years

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Chop It Like It’s Hot

A Worst Cooks in America O’Knutzy AU

The Sweater Weather Discord group helped me come up with this idea like two months ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. All credit goes to @lumosinlove for her amazing characters!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Chapter 1: Don’t Go Bacon My Heart

The Day Before the Competition

Interviewer (off camera): Finn O’Hara and Logan Tremblay for their introductions.

Logan: * taps on microphone* Is this mic working?

Finn: How do you still not know how to work a mic? You deal with them all time.

Logan: I signed up to compete in a cooking show, not to deal with your chirps.

Finn: You love ‘em. *winks*

Interviewer: So basically all we want from you guys is a brief introduction for the viewers. I’ll ask some questions, but most of this should be you guys just talking. We can edit things out later, so don’t worry about anything like that. Why don’t you guys start with your names and careers and we’ll go from there.

Finn: Yo, I’m Finn O’Hara, and I’m a terrible cook. *finger guns* Although I guess that’s a given, seeing that I’m on this show.

Logan: *mumbles in French, head in hands*

Finn: This asshole – shit, no – fuck! Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be cussing. This is a family-friendly show.

Logan: Dear God, please stop talking. I’m Logan Tremblay, the unfortunate boyfriend.

*Finn pouts*

Interviewer: And you guys play hockey?

Logan: Yeah, we play in the NHL. Gryffindor Lions.

Finn: That’s how we met, actually. Through hockey. We played together at Harvard, then got drafted to the Lions about a year apart. We’ve known each other for eight years and have been together for three of them. Can’t seem to get rid of this one.

Interviewer: And you’re not worried about being rivals on this show?

Finn: Rivals is a strong word… I mean yes we’ll be competing against each other instead of being teammates, but we know going in that it’s not personal. Just a little healthy competition.

Interviewer: So what made the two of you sign up for this show?

Logan: We didn’t. Our teammate Dumo and his wife Celeste did. They thought it would be funny. *pause* They’re probably right.

Interviewer: Out of the two of you, who is the worst cook?

*Finn and Logan point to each other*

Logan: You can’t be serious.

Finn: You once cooked pasta so much that it turned into literal paste!

Logan: You tried to cook pizza rolls in a toaster.

Finn: That’s what it said in the instructions!

Logan: It said toaster oven, you - *more French*

Finn: English, Tremz. How many times do I have to tell you that? I guess we’ll find out once and for all who the better cook is by the end of the next eight weeks, right? *mouths “it’s me” to the camera*

Logan: Whatever, Fish.

Interviewer: I think we’ve got all we need guys, thanks. Start time for tomorrow is 10:00 am, but plan on being here forty-five minutes to an hour early to get ready. We’ll see you then.

Competition Day

“Are you nervous? I’m nervous.” Finn stated, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the studio they’d be in and out of for the foreseeable future. There were cooking stations everywhere and he could already see tools and machines that he had no clue how to use. There were twelve other contestants that he didn’t know and the crew scattered everywhere, running back and forth trying to get everything ready. “God, how am I sweaty already? Is this normal?”

Logan rolled his eyes but still reached over to grab Finn’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Relax. It’s not so bad.” Finn smiled down at him, glad that they were at least here together. How in the hell did he get so lucky?

“Besides, you’ll be sent home soon enough. So don’t stress too much.”

Finn laughed. “Wow, I hate you so much right now.” He betrayed his words with a quick kiss. “You’re going down.”

Those green eyes flashed at the challenge, but right as he opened his mouth to respond-

“Good morning, recruits!”

All heads turned towards the voice. Three figures stood towards the front of the room: one they both recognized as the producer, who was flanked by who Finn assumed to be the chefs, seeing that they were wearing chef’s outfits. Chef’s uniforms? Did their uniforms have a technical name? Finn made a mental note to google that later.

Anyways, one was a short woman with dark ringlets tied back in a ponytail and an undiscernible expression on her face. The other was tall, blond, and had legs for days Jesus Christ-

“Welcome to your first day of boot camp! This is chef Dorcas Meadowes and chef Leo Knut; they’ll be your team leaders. We’re going to start with some footage of you all walking into the kitchen, so if you all would wait out there until you’re allowed to come back in. Cameras will be rolling, so be ready! After that, our chefs will explain the first challenge and then you’ll start cooking.” He clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s get this show started!”

“Why did they make us come in here just to send us back out?” Logan grumbled, following the other shuffling contestants out into the hall.

“Probably easier to give directions to the main studio instead of saying ‘hey, just wait out in the hall.’”

Logan hummed noncommittally. “I guess.” He wasn’t overly excited to be here; most of this (besides the initial push by Dumo and Celeste) was Finn’s idea. And god knows he could never say no to Finn. One look at that pout and brown puppy-dog eyes and he was done for. Logan didn’t like cooking, but he did like Finn. And they’d probably remember this for years to come. It didn’t matter what he was doing, as long as he was with Finn and making memories with him he’d do just about anything.

“Wonder what the first challenge is.” Finn mused, his eyes locked on the doors.

Logan laughed. “Always so impatient.”

“I’m a New Yorker,” Finn grinned, leaning into his accent. “It’s in my blood.”

The doors opened and contestants began filing back into the kitchen. Finn made sure to wave enthusiastically at the chefs with a wide smile. Logan noticed the tall one (god, he’d already forgotten the guy’s name) give a little wave in return as the other chef commanded the attention of everyone else in the room.

“Good morning, recruits, and welcome to boot camp! I’m chef Dorcas Meadowes, and this is chef Leo Knut. He’s the rookie of our crew, but don’t worry – he’s still qualified to teach all of you. Even though that’s not saying much.”

There was a smattering of laughter and chef Leo smiled, revealing dimples Logan could see from where he stood. “Hey, y’all. I’m very excited to see what makes all of you qualified to be put on this show. Who knows? Maybe you’ll give me more gray hair.” Dorcas laughed and ran her fingers through the tuft of gray hair at his temple.

“When did you get this? I don’t remember seeing it when we were in culinary school. Is it from Iron Chef?”

“Nah, this is from having Gordon Ramsay come to my restaurant.”

“Truly a terrifying man.” She shuddered. “Anyways, you guys be nice to this giant ball of sunshine. Even if he’s new, he’s still able to eliminate you from this competition.”

“In order to pick our teams, we need to see what kind of skills you have.” Leo winced. “Or don’t have. So today, we want you to make your favorite dish. Easy enough, right?”

“Oh god,” Finn murmured into Logan’s ear. “What’s my favorite dish? Do I even have one?”

“Finn.”

“You all have an hour to complete this task.” Dorcas said, glancing down at her watch. “And your time starts… now!”

“Fuck.” Finn stated emphatically, dashing off to the pantry.

Fuck was right. God, what was Logan going to make? He was wracking his brain for something while he grabbed two aprons from the back. He tossed one to Finn and took the station beside him before hurrying to the pantry. Chicken was always a safe bet, right? Celeste made a barbeque chicken recipe that was to die for. That couldn’t be too hard. It was just chicken and barbeque sauce. And maybe green beans on the side? He could get those canned ones and they’d taste fine if he rinsed them. This was fine.

He guessed on the temperature for the oven. 350 seemed good. Then he dumped two chicken breasts into a pan, poured the barbeque sauce over them, and put them into the oven.

“What are you making?” Logan startled at the soft voice, turning to see chef Leo at his station.

Blue eyes.

Logan blinked, Leo’s question forgotten. “Quoi?”

“You speak French?”

Why was his brain refusing to work all of a sudden? Get it together, Tremblay. “Uh, yeah.”

“What are you making?” Leo asked for the second time, but now it was in French. Weirdly worded French.

“Barbeque chicken.” Logan responded in French, then switched back to English. “What in the world was that?”

Leo flashed him a grin. “New Orleans, born and raised. We speak French there, too. Now tell me how you’re making that chicken.”

“Uh.” He had never said the word ‘uh’ so much in one sitting. Merde. “I put it in a pan, spread barbeque sauce over it, and I’m cooking it at 350.”

“How do you know when it’s done?”

Was this a trick question? It felt like a trick question. “Uh.” Fuck. “It has to get to a specific internal temperature, right?”

The chef nodded. “And what’s that?”

“145?"

Something in Leo’s expression flickered, but Logan couldn’t figure out what it meant. “Well, good luck. Logan, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See you at the judging table.” He said with a dimpled smile before moving to Finn’s station, which was already a mess. “Oh my. How are you doing over here?”

Finn laughed a bit hysterically. “Not good. Not good at all.”

“Ok. What’s going on?”

“Well I’m trying to make carbo’hara, and –“

“Really, Fish?” Logan called from his station. “That’s what you’re making?”

“What’s carbo’hara?” Leo asked as he watched Finn put bacon in a pan.

“Oh,” Finn waved a hand carelessly. “It’s just carbonara, but a pun on my name, O’Hara. Get it?”

Leo laughed, crossing long arms over his chest. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, but it makes me happy. My parents used to make it every night before my brother or I had hockey games.”

“Oh, that’s right. You guys are hockey players.”

“Go Lions!” Finn cheered, taking a spoonful of butter and throwing it into the pan with the bacon.

“Are you putting butter on bacon?” Leo asked with a raised eyebrow.

Finn responded with full confidence, “I didn’t want it to stick to the pan.”

“Ok. Got it. I… I look forward to seeing what you make.” Finn watched as Leo bit his lip and tried his hardest not to laugh.

Cute.

Finn felt his cheeks flush and blamed it on the steam from the pasta.

The last thirty minutes of the task were absolute chaos, but both boys got it done. Finn’s looked messy, which accurately summed up his cooking style. Logan was pretty proud of how his looked; he just hoped it tasted good. He gave Finn a smile and a fist bump. “Ready to be judged?”

Finn laughed, looking down at his plate. He grimaced. “Not really.”

“We’re all bad cooks. Chances are someone else’s dish is worse than yours.”

“That… actually helped. Thanks.”

***

Finn was chosen to be judged before Logan. He brought up his plate with a sheepish smile and placed it on the table in front of the chefs. Dorcas raised an eyebrow while Leo prodded the pasta with his fork.

“It’s carbo’hara.” Finn stated with pride.

“Well, Finn…” Dorcas met his eyes. “This looks like a mess, but let’s see how it tastes.”

Finn cringed as they both took a bite of his food. Dorcas frowned as she chewed and Leo tilted his head, a confused expression on his face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but this solidifies in my mouth like glue.”

“Oh god, please don’t eat any more.”

“You definitely put a lot of effort in and you have a lot of potential,” Leo said with a small smile. “I think you were just a little too ambitious for this first round and it got away from you.”

“That’s fair. Thanks for the input.” Finn grabbed his plate and made his way back to his station. He wasn’t too upset by those reviews – he already knew he was a bad cook. But he had potential, so at least he had that going for him.

Logan grinned at him back at his station. “I can’t believe you served the judges glue pasta.”

“At least I’m not serving them canned green beans.”

“They taste just fine, thank you very much.”

“Lo, they’re professionals. You’re not getting away with something lazy like that.”

He definitely got in trouble for using the canned green beans. Dorcas looked down at them like they were worms. Leo gave him the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ look, which was even worse, please don’t look at me like that.

“Canned food is a no-go, huh?”

“Definitely.”

“And this chicken isn’t cooked all the way.” Leo said, showing him the pink meat. “You said earlier that you’d cook it until it reached 145 degrees, but chicken needs to reach 165 at a minimum.”

“I’m sure it tasted fine, though.” Dorcas added. “You can’t really go wrong with pre-made barbeque sauce and chicken.”

Ouch. Logan grabbed his plate. “Right. Thanks.”

Finn was predictably cackling at his station. “Tremz, they couldn’t even eat yours. Celeste is going to be so disappointed in you.”

“Shut up.”

***

As soon as they were back into their hotel room, Finn kicked his shoes off and faceplanted into the couch. “I can’t believe that took so long.”

“Yeah,” Logan sat down and grabbed his take-out. “Who knew cooking all day would make us so hungry?”

Finn made grabby hands at the other food container. Logan laughed and handed it to him. “I haven’t been this hungry since playoffs, fuck.”

They ate in silence and were finished in record-setting time. Finn collected their trash and stood up to throw it away. “So blue team, huh? I’m kind of surprised they put us on the same team.”

“Me too. But Leo seems like a good teacher, so I’m glad we’re on his team.”

“Yeah, he seems so young, too.” Which sounded ridiculous to say; Leo couldn’t be that much younger than them. “If he’s already winning competitions and starring in cooking shows at that age, he must be pretty good.”

“Winner of Iron Chef America, Chopped, Guy’s Grocery Games…” Logan read off his phone with a low whistle. “He graduated culinary school early and opened his own restaurant a year later.”

“Damn.”

“There’s a video of one of his competitions on here.”

“Play it!” Finn said excitedly, flopping back down on the couch and peering over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Logan gave him a strange look. “What? Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”

“I think this is going to be way too complicated for us, but ok.”

So they sat on the couch watching cooking competitions for hours, learning skills and techniques that went way over their heads. Logan wordlessly switched to Leo’s cooking show Cajun Cooking, watching episode after episode of the blue-eyed chef teaching traditional New Orleans recipes.

Little did they know that halfway across the city in his own apartment, Leo Knut was watching Youtube highlights of the Gryffindor Lions, keeping a sharp eye out for number seventeen and number ten.

#lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #o'knutzy #chop it like it's hot

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gentlemen-of-lies · 3 years

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Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 2

(Carvour)ting around London with a British bastard and some classified files.

(Next chapter) (Chapter 1)

————

Curt stayed up until late, studying the files he’d been given. He’d luckily escaped another power cut, and his bedside lamp stayed firmly on, flickering in desperation for a new bulb.

There were only four suspects to memorise, three men and a woman. There was little evidence against them; in fact the most damning evidence was against one of the men- Andrew Hayes- who spoke three languages: English, German and Russian. Two of those languages were very much unfavourable in this social climate, although very useful for being a spy of course.

By midnight, Curt was starting to fall asleep. He knew he had to study the files but God... they were so boring.

He soon decided he’d studied them enough; even if he didn’t know every piece of information, too late a night would do him no favours in the morning.

His watch beeped at five am the following day, and for once he didn’t sleep through it. ‘Okay, Mega,’ he thought to himself. ‘Time to get your act together. Show that Carvour bastard he’s not the only one who can do his job.’ Curt sat up in bed, the cogs in his head turning as he worked out a brief schedule. He had to get dressed first of all; whether Owen really was going to lend him some clothes, he didn’t know. But at the moment, he still only had his three day old outfit, which was hanging over the back of the chair, in an attempt at getting aired, despite the air in the room being as damp as the outside weather.

He needed a shower, that was essential. Just some running water to get himself clean and shave off the itchy stubble on his chin... he sighed. Was he really going to have to ask that woman down the hall? He supposed it was worth a shot. If worst came to worse, he’d just have to ask Bill for a solution, although the less he interacted with him the better.

He got himself dressed, shaking his clothes to try and rid them of creases. His hair was patted down and he chewed around three mints at once, crunching them into dust. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror.

‘Not bad, Mega.’ Hopefully in the short walk from his room to the woman’s he’d magically gain the skill of flirting, and win her over into letting him use her bathroom.

Amazingly, he did convince her, ten minutes after leaving his room. But only because his flirting was so desperate and pathetic sounding that she had no choice but to take pity.

“It’s surely a mark of how needy you are that I’m even letting a strange man into my room,” the woman said.

“Cut me some slack,” replied Curt, making a beeline for her bathroom and shutting the door behind him. “All I’ve heard since I’ve been here are remarks of how much of a mess I am,” he continued through the locked, wooden door. “Maybe if your country had better facilities.”

“Maybe if your country didn’t produce such weak men.”

“Huh. Feisty. I like that in a woman.” The woman didn’t reply, but Curt was hardly that invested in the conversation anyway. What mattered right now was finally- he had a shower. And holy, did it feel fantastic! If it was up to him, he’d spend all day in there. But he didn’t have time. It was edging on six now, and while it was still a good four hours until he had to meet Owen, he still had plenty to do. Besides, there was certainly no harm in getting there early, before Owen. In fact, he decided he was going to do just that. Make Owen the one running late. Who was incompetent now?

Curt accidentally nicked his chin a few times while shaving, but he brushed the droplets of blood away with his fingers and splashed his face with the rusty water from the tap. By the time he reopened the bathroom door, he was feeling like a new man.

The woman was still there, writing at her own table, which looked much less rotten that Curt’s.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, Mrs...?”

“Miss. Miss Dorothy Lowe.”

“Well, Miss Lowe. I appreciate the hospitality.” Dorothy didn’t bother to respond, so Curt- as awkwardly as always whenever he had to try and act smooth around a woman- showed himself out. It was quarter to seven. All he had to do was grab the files and find the station. How hard could that be?

————

“It’s not far from here,” Owen had said. “Here’s a map,” Owen had said. The map was bullshit, it was in black and white and Curt could barely read it. The streets were as disorientating as always, and Curt was almost knocked down by a bus trying to cross the street at the same time as studying the stupid map.

He gave up, and decided to ask passers by.

“Go all the way up the street, turn left, right again and it’ll be there,” said the first person he came across, a man wearing a trench coat and sporting the biggest moustache Curt had ever seen.

“Thanks.” Curt followed the instructions given, but it soon became clear that moustache man had no clue what he was on about. And Curt had to ask two more people before he finally spotted the red and blue circle of the underground.

9:30. Had he really been wandering around London for an hour and a half? An hour if he discounted the sandwich he’d picked up from a local café, which he did. And either way, he was still early.

Beat that, Owen.

At ten o’clock on the dot, Owen showed up, once again wearing his brown cap pulled over his eyes. Typical, he wasn’t even late.

“Good morning, Mega,” he greeted. “I see you’ve shaved at least.”

“Shaved, showered and ready to go.” Was that line as bad as it had sounded? Owen ignored it altogether.

“I hope you didn’t arrive too early. Don’t want you hanging around looking suspicious.”

“Uh... no. No I arrived five minutes ago,” Curt lied. He was beginning to think that Owen could see right through him, and the feeling was unsettling to say the least. He barely even knew the man, and nor did he particularly like him.

“Good. We’ll get a move on then.” Owen crossed the street, Curt following closely behind. “You read the files then?”

“Yeah,” replied Curt. “And none of them seem much like suspects except the guy who speaks Russian.”

“Well if there was too much evidence against them they would have been fired by now.”

“Sure, but why them and not everyone else as well. Why were they singled out?”

“Favouritism? Who knows.” Curt didn’t know if he was going to get anywhere with this case.

“What am I even doing here?” Curt asked, finally voicing the question that had been on his mind ever since he’d arrived. “Can’t MI6 sort this out themselves? It’s just a mole, and I don’t know anyone who works there.”

“My best guess would be experience. How long have you been in the field?”

“Less than two years, and even then I mainly just sit at a desk reading through files.”

“Hm. Experience then. I got a lot of unnecessary cases myself. Was sent off to Belarus in my first year because of a suspected assignation plot.”

“That’s quite big.”

“Oh hardly, both the assassin and the assassinated were civilians, and it had nothing to do with the war either. Simple case of a murder charge and jail time. All I got out of it was an improvement on my Russian accent.”

“How long have you been in the field?”

“Going on four years now. Joined when I was twenty.

“So did I.”

“Then perhaps we have more in common than I thought.” Curt took that as a rare compliment. “Now then, I have a flat in Nevern Square. As you can tell by the name, there is a square in the middle. We can talk there. It’s usually empty at this time of day.”

“You sure it’s not too open?”

“It’s surrounded by a gate and only residents have the key. It’s private enough.”

So they made the short walk to Nevern Square, truly a square surrounded by tall, thin flats. The garden itself was fairly bare, much more so than the other gardens that Curt had walked past during his vague exploration of Earl’s Court when he first arrived, which wasn’t so much an exploration as a hunt for somewhere to sleep.

Owen took out a small key and opened one of the locked gates with it. The gate squeaked as it opened, the rusty iron bars dragging along the floor. Owen closed it behind him.

They went to sit on the nearest bench. Curt scanned the park. It really was empty, which wasn’t surprising. Even if everyone wasn’t at work, there was hardly anything to do in here. You could barely walk a dog since its parameter was so small.

“So out of all the suspects,” Owen began, launching back onto the case. “Did any of them stand out to you?”

“Yeah, actually. What about you?” Owen hesitated, an unfamiliar reaction of his.

“To be honest, no. I haven’t found any evidence worth checking out.” Curt raised his eyebrows in suppressed excitement. Did he finally know something that the great Owen Carvour didn’t? Owen paid no attention to his clear look of arrogance.

“I’m surprised,” said Curt, his voice almost gloating.

“Why, what did you find? You’re not going to mention the Russian-speaker again are you? Half the people in MI6 speak Russian. You can’t be a spy if you only know one language.”

“No not him. I’m talking about that other guy, light hair...” Curt took a second to recall the name. “John Lawson.” Something crossed Owen’s face for a split second, not long enough for Curt to properly catch.

“It’s not him,” replied Owen, with a strangely firm voice.

“Well, how do you know?”

“I just do.”

“But he has a history of working with explosives.”

“So? We’re looking for a Russian spy, not someone who blows things up.”

“No we’re looking for a bad guy, and that’s what bad guys do. Blow shit up.”

“Do you realise how childish you sound? Bad guys and good guys. This is the real world, Mega, not a comic book. It’s not Lawson. Move on.”

“Jeez, why are you getting so defensive?” Owen just rolled his eyes, and wouldn’t reply.

“I’ll take you to Bletchley Park. That’s where Andrew Hayes works. Languages aside, I never trusted him myself. Can’t put my finger on why, though. We can follow him, spy on him, and you...” he turned to Curt. “Can make friends with him.”

“Me?” Owen nodded.

“Of course, he doesn’t know who you are. Although I suggest using your real accent. Your British one could really use some work.”

“I thought I sounded alright.”

“You sound like someone mimicking a film star. Just tell him you have family here or something, no links whatsoever to any secret service. Get him to open up. Also...” Owen handed Curt a brown duffel bag that he’d been carrying around the entire time. “Change of clothes. You can give them back to me when you leave.” Curt assumed he meant leave the country, but he could never really tell with Owen. Nevertheless, he took the bag, with a stiff thank you, setting it down beside his feet.

“Wear them tomorrow when you’re trailing Hayes. You want him to think you’re a well-groomed, strapping American. Not a hard-done-by yank, lost in a foreign country.”

“Fine.” Curt ignored the thinly veiled insult, focused as he was on the case itself. He still suspected Lawson, but clearly he was getting nowhere on that lead with Owen around. But perhaps he didn’t need to.

Andrew Hayes wasn’t the only one who worked at Bletchley.

#spies are forever #spies are forever prequel #spies are forever fanfiction #curt mega x owen carvour #tin can bros #gentlemen of lies #agent curt mega #owen carvour #starkid

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shiberpostshere · 4 years

Text

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

28. Chapter Twenty Four: Cinematic Parallels✨

Previous Part✨ Next Part✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 4.3 K

Note: This contains suggestive content.

5:00 PM. The clock was ticking a little too slow for your liking.

The second coffee cup of the day, now empty and sweating even in the air conditioned atmosphere of the cafe, accurately depicts your inner state minus the perspiration.

You continue chewing on your bottom lip, a little expectant and a little hesitant. It has been difficult to pay attention to the book in your hands, you’re rather occupied with counting the seconds on the clock for the past excruciatingly long fifteen minutes.

After testing out approximately millions of scenarios about what explanation Seonghwa is going to offer to put an end to your dilemma, the final one you kept arriving to is, ending things between you two.

An end to a relationship you've never experienced before that merely began a few weeks ago.

An end?

The assumptions were eating you from within. It’s strange how worried you have been for the last few days but it's even more queer that your feelings for him are rigid and unfazed.

Why is your heart ready to forgive him even for the worst case scenario?

All he had to say was, ‘Trust me’ and you did.

Your head falls back with a slump of exhaustion. “Oh my god, why are feelings so complicated?”

The intense war of dichotomy that's going on between your stubborn heart and persistent mind has been tiresome. It is a scenario where the brain is presenting blunt but logical ideas and the heart is deflecting those with its mellow and soothing sentiments.

The mind prepared a list of “Possible Hindrances You Will Have to Deal with When Managing a Relationship with Park Seonghwa” and your heart fired back with a counter argument of “Times When Park Seonghwa Made You Feel Extremely Happy and Appreciated”.

They are both correct in their respective standpoint. It is you who needs to settle on a conclusion which you cannot unless you learn Seonghwa’s perspective.

Okay, (Y/N) stop the train of thoughts, let’s think after we talk, let’s consider things after we talk, let’s focus on this wonderful book for now.

“Scoot over.” A heavy voice announces and you look up to register the undetected mischievous boy, standing in his tall glory, laptop held with care to his chest.

You slide along with your belongings, studying Mingi as he settles down with concern written all over his features.

“Okay.” The response comes out of you in an unexpectedly meek voice.

“I know you weren’t expecting my company but at least don’t look so disappointed.” In surprisingly quick movements he begins to work, fingers furiously drumming on the keyboard with his brows furrowed to an intense depth.

Indeed, you were not expecting his company but you didn’t want to openly broadcast the not-so-subtle disappointment. “What brings you here?” You ask, finally placing down the book whose title is already wiped clean out of your mind.

The amount of concentration currently present in your mind, almost none, made the task of reading troublesome. You did not get past the first sentence. You don’t even remember the said first sentence you read, maybe almost a thousand times for the last fifteen minutes of waiting.

The tall boy runs his fingers through his messy locks, disturbing them further. “Did you forget already?” His skeptical eyes meet your clueless ones.

“Oh.” A thoughtless answer because you truly have no idea what he is implying.

He leans lazily into the palm of his hand. “The pendrive, (Y/N)”.

The pendrive? What pendrive?

You shuffle through your rack of memories for a plausible answer. “Oh, shit. Hongjoong’s pendrive?”

He nods at your realization.

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday to copy the contents for backup purposes and it was to be delivered to Mingi right after you were done.

He holds out his palm. “Give me it. I’ll be on my way, I don’t want to intrude.” A brief pause. "The talk, or whatever, um.."

An awkward smile stretches onto your lips, right hand sheepishly reaching out to the back of your neck.

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday is actually not in your possession.

“What? Why are you making that weird face?” Don’t tell me--” He halts his rant, his suspicions getting confirmed as your awkward smile transforms into a rather skittish one.

You shoot up from your seat. “I remember Hongjoong telling me it's in the first drawer of the second cabinet, I will be right back!” In a hurried motion, you jump out of the broad bench, ready to sprint to and from the studio.

Mingi’s fingers catch a fistful of your coat before you can flee. “What am I supposed to tell Seonghwa when he arrives? I am not going to wait here in that kind of gloomy mood with him!”

You try to untangle his heavy hold on your coat. “I promise I will be back in no time. I came fifteen minutes early to prepare myself to talk to him! He won’t be here for another five minutes.”

He releases the hold, slightly shaking his head in disapproval. “Fine but be back as soon as possible.” His fingers shuffle inside his pants pockets to take out a small door key. “Take the key.” The studio key is tossed your way to catch.

“Thanks!” Holding up two thumbs up in the spur of the moment, you curse internally for admitting your obvious desperation out loud.

The distance between the building that houses various types of studios for the artistic students of KQU and Cafe Utopia, a space mostly occupied by the music and dance majors to relax during their breaks is only five minutes apart.

The ground is slippery and shifting under your heavy footsteps as you are trying to jump towards the studio.

You have seen a late, panicked Wooyoung in action, grabbing a drink priorly prepared for him (he has charmed all the part timers of the cafe) and disappearing out of the cafe within the time span of sixty seconds. It’s truly a wondrous sight to see until you’re in the similar situation, (You have not charmed all the part timers, not even San) running towards your class with not a single drop of temporary energy in your vessels.

The influence of the misunderstanding has clearly taken its toll on you. There have been a number of tasks you have forgotten or completed last minute due to your distracted mind since you learned the incomplete news. You were all over the place and you did not like it one bit.

While you’re hastily climbing up the stairs to reach the studio used by the Dazzling Night crew, you’re thankful that it resides on the first floor instead of fifth as a numbness creeps up your legs.

“Whoa! slow down.” A random boy comments as you dash by him, footsteps echoing through the corridor to reach the door at the very last.

“Sorry!” You shout, voice bouncing in the emptiness.

You halt with a screech in front of the locked door.

The door opens with a soft click and you turn on the lights, the 181024 studio illuminating with a warm glow. Your movements are quick as you navigate through the familiar surroundings, reaching out for the drawer.

A wave of relief washes over you when the blue pen drive with the owner’s initials is the first thing that comes into your vision after sliding the drawer open.

“Is it still there?” A sudden, soft comment startles you in the silence, hands flying up, increasing the pre-existing panting.

You turn around to address the unexpected guest and it is the last person you expected, quite contradictory, considering that you had been looking forward to his presence ever since today’s sun dawned in the sky.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Seonghwa’s eyes motion to the hand placed on your chest.

You let it fall, your body leaning back into the cabinet with a slight stumble. “No, it’s okay.” Retrieving the pen drive, you close the drawer. “I was just about to return. Mingi is leaving for the dance club soon.”

He studies the well accustomed surroundings, “I was thinking that maybe we can talk here instead?” You notice concealed bags underneath his weary eyes.

There is an evident urgency to the way he speaks, worried glances directed throughout the room.

For a brief moment you wish to wrap your arms around his warm and tall figure. To assure him and to be assured but you have to know what he has to say to control these storming feelings.

“Okay, yeah, sure, let’s talk here.” The temperature is too toasty to keep the coat on, you remove it and settle down on the only couch present in the studio.

Seonghwa closes the door behind him and takes a seat beside you, his fidgety fingers trying to keep themselves from reaching out to caress your face.

You gulp, pushing back your hair that is sticking to the nape of your neck, eagerly awaiting for him to speak. “Hwa?”

He looks up. “Yes?”

You let out a big exhale. “Can I say something before we talk about the Japan situation?” The fingers of your left hand begin pulling the threads of your right sleeve. “I have been thinking about certain things. Mostly about what I’ve been feeling which I often don’t think about.” Unknowingly, a nervous chuckle slips out of you.

He adjusts a little in his seat. “Yes, of course (Y/N). Tell me.” He is expecting to hear the conclusion he had been dreading.

“You know, when I heard from Mingi that you are leaving for Japan, the first thought that crossed my mind was a selfish one.” You observe his expression before you continue. He offers you every grain of his attention. “Even though both of us are busy with our own studies, you still find time for me, look out for me and I don’t know, it just feels extremely comforting in your presence. It’s almost as if I don’t have to worry about anything when you’re around."

That was not what he presumed you wanted to say to him.

His expression softens. “(Y/N), you look out for me as well, I hope you know how much I value the time we spend.”

A small sad smile appears on your lips. “It comes to naturally, I don’t know, I just feel like you’re always looking out for everyone but you’re a big baby yourself. You need someone to look out for you as well, dummy.” He opens his mouth to protest at your playful comment but you’re quick to continue. “It hasn’t been so long, maybe a few weeks but everything went so well. I looked forward to even the shortest amount of time we spent together. Even when you spontaneously appeared out of nowhere and accompanied me to the class.” You stop for a moment. “I’m not making much sense right now, am I?”

He shakes his head, an expression of awe written all over his features. “No, I understood everything, it’s okay.”

“But” You hesitate and his features shift into an anxious one. “But, I didn't consider the eventual obstacles we might face in the future, taking in account that you’re graduating next year and I am barely beginning my college life. I actually purposely didn’t think about it, I wanted to save it for later until--”

“Until you learned that I am leaving for Japan.” He concludes the sentence in your stead.

You nod. “I like you a lot, Seonghwa. My feelings are intense enough that I won’t be able to decide what I should be feeling next unless you tell me everything yourself.” You said it, you finally said it.

“What?” He questions, a little taken aback.

Oh no. Maybe, I shouldn’t have poured out everything at once. God, what have I done?

The way he appears perplexed, he definitely was not expecting you to dump out your feelings on him when you said you wanted to talk. You are pretty sure he is feeling pressured by this revelation.

“The important thing you wanted to tell me was not putting an end to us before it escalated further?” After hearing his question, it's your turn to be confused by his words.

“What?” You push back the unruly hair falling in front of your face with both of your hands, unable to decide if he’s suggesting to end things.

He moves a little closer. “You don’t want to end what we have, right?”

“No! But that depends on whether you’re going or not. Wait, do you want to end...this?”

“No!” He is extremely quick to answer. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes?” You’re eager to hear what he has to say. The puzzling thoughts are clouding your mind.

“I am not moving to Japan after graduation. I am simply accompanying Hongjoong for a month to help him settle, like a short vacation after three years of continuous college.” He finally admits the entire thing. The following sentence that truly makes or breaks the incomplete one you had heard before. The incomplete one you had heard before and especially not from him.

“You’re not moving to Japan after graduation? You’re only going away for a month? Just a month?” You repeat to make sure that you heard it right even though he stated it with proper enunciation.

In the span of twenty years of your life, you didn’t know that it was possible to feel embarrassed and relieved at the same time yet at this moment you’re experiencing both.

You’re embarrassed because of the millions of possible negative scenarios you coddled in your mind, the time you spent brooding, the time your friends had to take measures to elevate your mood and relieved that hopefully nothing would change between you and Seonghwa, at least not in the way you had feared them to and despised every second of those intrusive thoughts.

“Yes, I am only going away for a month after my graduation.” There is now a similar smile of relief on his lips.

The edges of your shoulders droop. “If you can’t tell, I feel extremely stupid right now. I feel so stupid.”

Seonghwa tilts his head, his movements relaxing for the first time since you started speaking. “Will it help if I told you that I assumed the same? I feel stupid for not telling you myself before you heard it from someone else and that’s what caused the misunderstanding in the first place, (Y/N). Their is no one at fault here, trust me.”

“Are you disappointed?” The inquiry slips out of your subconscious.

His hands take yours to securely enclose them in between his palms. “Not at all. There will be small misunderstandings, bad feelings, unintentional hurtful words and external factors that will stand as an obstacle in any relationship. Do you know how happy I am that you decided to hear me out instead of arriving at a conclusion of your own? I was worried, (Y/N).” His faltered gaze lingers on the entangled fingers. “I was worried that right when I started spending time with someone who understands me, who makes me smile, who relieves me from my troubles and brings out the good sides in me might end up leaving.” He bites back the urge to say, ‘again’.

“Oh, Seonghwa.”

Without further thought, you reach out to him and pull him close into you by clasping your arms firmly around his shoulders. He responds immediately as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you even closer. He snuggles his face into the crevice of your neck, his gentle breaths causing a little tickling sensation.

Out of all the times he has held you before, sometimes unintentionally when you’re with your friends, quite often after a long day when he falls into your embrace, and always before you leave for the night after the show, today you feel the utmost satisfaction and at ease.

His hand is caressing your back in a serene motion to cast away the doubts created by the miscommunication.

You remove your face from his homely shoulder, arms still intact around him as if he is the most precious being in this world. “Let’s talk, okay? Let’s give each other time in future so that we can solve things when we’re ready to talk. I know things will change, things are bound to change but let’s try to understand as we get through the most simplest or the most complicated situations.”

He appears displeased that you disturbed him from the snugness of your neck that he had settled in to but delivers an instant agreement to your question along with a quick peck that he places to the closest cheek. “Yes, let’s.”

Blood begins rushing to your face instantly due to his sweet gesture.

“So, can we go back to the part when you said you like me a lot?” To your disappointment, he releases the hold around your waist but the disappointment is short-lived as the free hand of his travels to your thigh in an attempt to lift you onto his lap.

The bold action of his catches you off guard, his other hand now bringing you closer to him with not even a centimeter of space left in between. The thumping of your heart is ringing in your ear as you feel his thighs you’ve been flopped onto, underneath.

You’re stunned with arms still locked around his shoulders. “Why do we have to go back to that part in particular?” The intimacy is making it difficult for you to maintain a constant eye contact with him.

His eyes that hold an amused yet admiring gleam try to find yours but you’re dealing with a current little conflict of your own. The thoughts are flashing with intense hues in your mind due the fact that his hand is resting quite dangerously on your thigh and the other arm has you locked by the waist.

You are not complaining but this outcome is not what you exactly prepared yourself for. This particular scenario did not even cross your mind for a nanosecond. How come this has never crossed your mind? He has nice thighs.

He has nice thighs? Of course he has nice thighs! You have noticed how sturdy they are, especially when he’s wearing skinny jeans. Oh my god, did I ogle at Seonghwa’s thighs in public when he was wearing skinny jeans? What if he caught me ogling at him when he was wearing skinny jeans? IN PUBLIC? Not to forget the time you kept staring at the definitions of his arms that one blessing of a day when he wore a tank top due to the sweltering weather. But how can I not look at him when he looks THIS ATTRACTIVE? WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IN THIS SITUATION?

As you’re contemplating and battling with quite interesting thoughts, entranced in your own bubble, Seonghwa is observing you with a smirk that you have not noticed yet.

“What are you thinking about? You’re stark red, baby.” He appears absolutely delighted, a kind of joy you’ve ever witnessed before.

“Baby? Baby?” You repeat like a lust stricken puppet.

“Yes?” His hand trails from your neck to your waist in an excruciatingly slow pace. The temperature in the studio rising enough to convince you to discard your clothes.

Why did my mind even go to the thought of removing clothes? Shut up!

His hand settles on the nape of your neck, tugging you down to his forehead. “You don’t like this?”

You part your lips to answer but your system fails to support you.

His breath fans on your lips due to the proximity of your faces. “Can I kiss you?” His voice sounds heavy when he asks. A deep tone you’ve never heard him speak with.

“What?” You’re flustered, heart thumping wildly in your ribcage, ready to burst out. Your gaze continues shifting back and forth between his beautiful, chestnut eyes and tender, pink, kissable lips.

His finger gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?”

You unlock the clasp of your fingers from behind his neck to carefully hold his cheeks. “Oh. I mean, yes, of course--”

Your lips collide. They meet with such haste as if he had been counting days just to have you to himself. The feeling of his plump lips against yours is unbelievable. Unbelievable enough for you to tilt your head for a deeper taste. He tastes like strawberries, extremely sweet and addicting.

Your chests are pressed together, hearts beating frantically in a mismatched rhythm but sharing the fervour. You let one hand trail down to trace the unexplored areas you couldn’t dare to before. His entire body is blazing with a familiar passion that is swirling within you as well. He lets his hand perform smooth strokes around your neck with his dainty fingers supplying a tingling sensation all the way down to your core by the delicacy of the action.

He kisses you. He drinks you in, again and again. You break apart for a mere second to take in a deep breath and connect your lips with such urgency, unable to get enough of each other.

In the moment that is burning up with each and every second ticking by, actions are getting bolder. Seonghwa’s hands move up to your chest, to explore every inch of you and your fingers are roaming through his hair, kneading through the soft black locks. The dizzying movements intoxicating him further.

He catches your lower lip in quick, needy pecks and proceeds with something you did not see coming. His teeth grasp it with a painfully long drawl, leaving you breathless. A swarm of butterflies are whirling in your stomach and your head leans back the moment he releases your lips to let the suppressed throaty moan finally escape. He takes the opportunity to pepper feathery kisses all the way around your collarbone, the plump lips connecting with warmth and leaving behind a chill that vibrates down your spine.

Chests heaving up and down with exhilaration and shortness of breath, You grab his face and plant one long lasting peck.

“OH MY GOD, NOT AGAIN!” A deafening, exasperated exclaim pierces your ears.

The shriek frightens you as you lose your balance and your forehead bumps against Seonghwa’s head with a loud thud causing you two to hiss and yelp at the impact.

There he stands by the door, Song Mingi, the requester of the pen drive that vanished magically out of your minds. His ears are boiling red, jaw hanging a little too low and eyes stretched to their maximum possible width.

Mingi takes in every detail ruefully. Seonghwa’s hands messily entangled around your neck and waist while yours held his face. Your body cozy on his friend’s lap, hair disheveled, swollen red lips and loss of air depicts it crystal clear that PG-13 activities were surely going to lead up to Rated R. Mingi does not wish to know what happened before and he definitely does not wish to be aware of what was going to happen on the studio couch. The only couch in the studio to crash on, the couch he liked to roll on while Hongjoong worked and now it will be the couch he is never going to even lay one finger on.

“Mingi, I--” Seonghwa opens his mouth to explain, maybe even apologise for the sight the boy has walked onto.

Meanwhile, you’re occupied with examining the ceiling to its greatest details, unable to register Mingi’s presence due to the embarrassment.

The tall boy holds up his hands. “You were here for the pen drive, the pen drive!” He mutters under his breath, snatching the blue device from the half open drawer with furious eyes. “What is with you guys kissing and me walking at the exact time? It was cringy back then, now it’s just, my god” You decide to answer but he silences you and continues, “You were supposed to talk! What happened to talking? Oh my god, leave me alone, please.” He shakes his shoulders and arms with a face of disgust.

“We were talking.” You say in a timid tone.

Seonghwa nods a little too enthusiastically. “We were talking.”

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” He stomps towards the door. “Clearly, you were talking and not sucking each other’s face in a public studio. Not in the studio, guys! God, whatever. I am leaving.”

Yeosang’s warnings about funny business in the studio pops into your mind.

“MINGI DON’T TELL YEOSANG, PLEASE!” You scream out a plea as Mingi walks out.

He answers in his low voice already out of the studio. “STOP MAKING OUT IN PUBLIC STUDIOS!”

If it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s hands resting on your hips, keeping you settled, you’d leaped out behind Mingi.

He chuckles beneath you, thumbs tracing circles on your stomach. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll complain for a week and then forget about it.”

The thought of flustered Mingi and irritated Yeosang is pushed far back into your mind the moment your eyes take in the bliss present on Seonghwa’s features. “You’ll silence them with that gentle glare of yours whereas they’ll bring it up every time I cause a minor inconvenience, we’re different, Hwa.” Even though you’re supposed to be complaining, you’re focused on fixing the strands of hair ruffling against his forehead.

“I like it when you call me ‘Hwa’. God, what are you doing to me?” He leans upwards to place a soft peck on your jaw almost pulling you back into the extraordinary emotions you experienced a few minutes ago. “I like you a lot, (Y/N).”

You release yourself from his hold and he displays extreme dismay at your actions. “You better or else the makeout session would make no sense if you didn’t.”

He too, stands up and his arm sneaks around your waist. “I am feeling too good, nothing will get me riled up today.” His lips find your cheek again. He had been waiting for a while to shower you with affection and now that he has received the golden chance, he will not waste it.

“Hongjoong and Yeosang will find out and scold you.” Your comment goes through his one ear and escapes through the other. He is elated and unbothered.

“Mmmm, okay.” He responds lightheartedly with a shrug.

The contentment he is displaying through gentle touches, adoring eyes and unfading smile, you’re capturing all those elements to cherish at present and in the uncertain but the coming future, with Seonghwa. The mere thought is giddying enough.

You’re falling for this man and you’re falling hard but you’re unaware that so is he.

Pairing: (Business Management Major) College Student! Seonghwa x (Law Major) College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you “borrowed” once a kiss from. Years have passed and it’s a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you’re to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

A/N: Take a shot every time Mingi says “God, My god, Oh my god.”

How are you guys doing? How did you like the chapter? do tell, do tell! Spare feedback please!

I attempted to write a steamy scene, did I do well? I am not quite experienced (nervous laughter) but I tried my best to relay what I wanted to. We’re SO close to the end. Earlier I was just thinking that my god, something I started is actually finishing, I can’t believe it.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

🌸Tags:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @cloudsgathering @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @retrofuture-ism @hongjoongsnoona @ateezficz @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @choisaniskillingme @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @baes-moon-scribbles @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell

🌸Unable to tag: @mingiibabieee @dreamie-deonghwa @9songbird19

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Please do not repost, modify or claim these images.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez fluff #ateez fake texts #ateez text au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateezsmau #ateez sm au #ateez social au #ateez au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #choi san #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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allhalloweve · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3: A Long Way From Home

Chapter 3 is up! Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639461/chapters/66867892

“What now?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Right.” Sirius prodded the dying embers of the fire with the iron poker he had found, staring into the wisps of smoke and waiting for some great cosmic message to reveal itself. Some reason for the events of the past weeks, some sheepish apology from the dice-rolling asshole in the sky who decided to throw everything Sirius cared about in a basket and set it aflame.

The soft splashing from the other room had stopped a while ago, but the rest of them had silently agreed not to talk about it. Nobody really knew what to do, anyway—Sirius ached to sit with Remus in silence for as long as he needed, just so he wouldn’t be alone, but he knew that giving him space would be the best course of action.

“The water’s probably cold by now,” Peter said quietly, chancing a look at the closed door. “D’you think he’ll be alright?”

“Not particularly,” James said, his voice dry. “Having your home torn to bits will do that to a person, I suppose.”

“James.” Lily elbowed him harder than strictly necessary and he deflated a bit.

“Sorry. I’m just worried.”

Sirius knew that look on his best friend’s face; he had seen it many times before when James was worried about his parents or when Sirius started thinking about his old life again. The furrow of his brow, the downturn of his mouth, and his rigid shoulders were a familiar sight to anyone who knew him and truly proved that Remus had become part of James’ family. Just over a week this time, Sirius thought wryly. That must be a new record.

“Do you have extra space for the night?” A low voice asked from the doorway to the washroom. Remus was still drying his hair; the smooth caramel color had turned chestnut brown from the water and curled at the ends in loose loops, giving him the appearance of a slightly ruffled bird. “I can sleep on the floor if you don’t.”

“Nonsense, we’ve got space in our bed,” James said without hesitation. Sirius and Peter both raised an eyebrow at him—they certainly did not have extra space in the guest bed that was barely made for two people, let alone four strapping young men. “Right, boys?”

“Worst comes to worst, you can share with me,” Lily joked halfheartedly. The flicker of a smile passed across Remus’ face and hope rose in Sirius’ chest. His eyes were still dull and distracted, but there was a bloom of life there somewhere.

Remus padded across the room and settled between Sirius and the fire without a sound. His left knee rested carefully against Sirius’ right; Sirius could tell he was keenly aware of every movement either of them made. “Did the rest of you form a plan yet?”

“We didn’t want to do it without you,” Dorcas answered with a tired smile. “Besides, it’s far too late to do anything important and I, for one, have reached my limit for heavy conversations tonight.”

The rest of them murmured their agreement, but nobody moved toward the bedrooms. Sirius stood and brushed the nonexistent dust from his trousers. “I’m going to bed. Anyone else?”

A chorus of ‘yeah, sure’ and vague nods answered, followed by a good bit of shuffling and muttering as five people dispersed, leaving just him and Remus by the fire. Carefully, Sirius reached out and touched him on the arm.

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

“…do you need a moment?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” Sirius didn’t move from his position and, after a brief period of silence, Remus leaned into the side of his leg with a shaky sigh. “You’re going to be okay, Remus.”

“I don’t know how I can be. Sirius, if you had seen it—everything is gone. Everything.”

“No.” Remus glanced up at him, finally, and Sirius squeezed his shoulder. “We’re still here. James, Lily, Peter, Marlene, Dorcas. Me.”

“I killed two people.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “I heard them talking about our parents and I went straight for their throats.”

“Marlene stabbed a man in the heart three days ago, Remus. James took out at least two at the battle. I don’t think any of us are going to get through this with clean hands.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Sirius said, holding his hand out. Remus took it after a second’s hesitation and he pulled him to his feet until they were facing one another in a cruel mirror of their dance. In that moment, standing mere inches from Remus in the low light of the fire, Sirius wanted to hold him close and stand between anything that dared to make him look so fragile.

He settled for taking his elbow and leading him to the guest room, where James and Peter were doing an excellent job of faking sleep. They changed in silence, facing away from one another, though it didn’t really matter; once they slid beneath the sheets and sandwiched themselves alongside the other two, Sirius could feel James’ heartbeat through his arm on one side and Remus’ on his other.

With a long exhale, he let the comfortable heat radiating off Remus’ body and the steady breaths of his brother lull him to sleep.

-----------

The morning dawned soft and slow for once. Sirius decided not to open his eyes and greet it in case Marlene was waiting to drag him out of this wonderful bed by his toes again.

“Should we wake them?” A low voice asked from the doorway.

“No, they look so cozy!”

“We do have to leave at some point, Marlene.”

“Maybe we can just get Sirius up and let Remus be? He’s had a rough couple of days.”

There was a slightly-too-loud laugh that was quickly shushed by several people. “I’d like to see you try to get Sirius out of there.”

Out of where? Sirius let the last bits of glorious sleep slide away and wiggled his toes, trying to get his bearings. He was still in the guest bed, laying partially on his side—that’s odd, I never sleep on my side—with a warm weight encompassing him. Large blanket, his drowsy brain suggested. Sirius hummed in agreement and cuddled back into it.

The blanket mumbled something and shifted. Not blanket???

Carefully, he cracked one eye open and scowled in the general direction of the voices from before. “Shuddup.”

“Oh, he’s adorable.”

The not-blanket grumbled again, slightly louder this time, and tightened its grip. From what Sirius gathered in the sudden light of the sun, he had rolled directly into Remus at some point during the night, whose limbs were now wrapped around him in a tangle. Soft curls tickled the underside of his chin and one strong arm had a solid hold on his midriff.

“What?” he mumbled under his breath, looking past Remus to the doorway, where five people were gathered. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” Dorcas grinned at him. “How’d you sleep?”

“…I’m not sure I can move.” He shifted, then immediately froze when Remus made a terribly sad noise and basically flopped onto his chest. James was shaking with suppressed laughter and Sirius scowled at him before gently shaking Remus’ shoulder. “Hey. Remus, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Remus inhaled slowly as he woke. His freckles glowed in the slanted sun.

“Good morning.”

Remus jolted in his arms and sat up in the blink of an eye, which would have been fine if his head wasn’t directly beneath Sirius’ chin and they weren’t on the very edge of the bed. “Shit, sorry!”

“Ow.” Sirius’ jaw smarted as he pushed the upper half of his body back onto the mattress, still shaking the last spots of pain out of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. Remus’ eyes went wide when he saw their audience.

“Were you all just standing there?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough,” James snickered, sending the others into a fit of laughter. Sirius could feel the heat on his face burning him from the inside out and squeezed his eyes shut, praying this was just a dream. “Come on, you two, we have planning to do!”

“I am so sorry,” Remus said into his hands once the others were gone.

“It’s fine,” Sirius assured him around the embarrassment that he could practically taste. “It was, um, actually kind of nice.”

“Oh.” Remus looked down at last, still sleep-soft and gorgeous. “Should we…?”

“Yeah, we should.” Sirius’ heart pounded in his ears, stuttering over itself as he propped himself up on his elbows.

“Right. Okay.” Remus stared at him for a moment, stock-still, until Sirius leaned closer and he all but bolted from the bed. “We have—we have a lot to do today and you might want to, um, get your stuff together.”

Sirius’ jaw fell open as Remus grabbed something off the floor and slipped out of the room without a backward glance, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to walk and put socks on at the same time. “That was—but—”

If he had a little less self-control he would scream.

Instead, like a responsible adult who wasn’t still reeling with confusion, he rolled out of bed and dressed, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself and then a few more to calm his heart, which was still galloping from being thoroughly snuggled.

When he finally gathered the courage to face the world, everyone else pointedly avoided meeting his eyes. Did they not understand that he could see the smiles they were hiding? Did they not—“Stop it, Marlene!”

“I’m not doing anything!” she immediately defended with a twitching smirk.

“I know! That’s the problem!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You might say ‘good morning’!”

She snorted and he instantly regretted his word choice. “But I know you already had one.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Alright, both of you, that’s enough,” Lily interrupted, holding her hands out like she was stopping a cage match. “Marlene, while you are entirely correct and I’m on your side, we do have things to take care of. Sirius, we saved you a spot.” With far too much ceremony, she gestured to the sliver of room between her and Remus and burst into laughter.

“Lily, you are so funny,” Remus said in the driest voice Sirius had heard in his life. “A real comedic genius. We’re lucky to have you.”

“Is everything alright in here?” Mrs. Evans poked her head from the kitchen, looking rather amused.

“Mrs. Evans, how attached are you to your daughter?” Sirius asked.

“She’s always been a troublemaker,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “But unfortunately, I do care about her quite a bit.”

“Thanks, mum!” Lily said with a bright smile. “Love you!”

“I love you too, imp,” Mrs. Evans disappeared back into the kitchen with a wink.

“Believe it or not, we actually did call you two out here for a reason.” Peter spread a map over the coffee table and placed a mug of cider at each corner. “Alright, so we know the kidnappers are going to Os Anguis, and Bailey is…here-ish?”

Lily moved his finger a bit down and to the right. “Here, actually. We hauled ass to get here in two days. Honestly, I’m a little surprised Remus made it so fast.”

“I ran most of the way.” Remus shrugged. “Anyway, the soldiers will be wanting to avoid suspicion, so they’ll take the most direct route to the capital, yeah?”

“There’s no way we’ll be able to cut them off before they reach Silvalith,” Marlene said, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “A caravan would travel slow, but we would still be lucky to catch them before the mountains.”

“Time out.” Dorcas held her hands up in a T-shape. “Do we have a plan for what we do if we catch up to the caravan? Are we killing a bunch of soldiers? Are we re-kidnapping our parents? Are we following them into Os Anguis and exposing Riddle’s assassination attempts?”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Honestly, Sirius hadn’t thought about their end goal yet; tracking down the royals had been at the top of his priority list until Remus came back with information. “I might have an idea?” Lily scooted over to the map and furrowed her brows. “Right, so, if we can catch the caravan before it crosses the mountain pass and threaten the soldiers into giving your folks back, we can tell them what we know and let the actual leaders of our countries handle the royal madman.”

“You’re so smart,” James practically sighed, staring at her with dreamy eyes. Sirius smacked him on the back of the head.

“What if we’re really unlucky, though?” Remus asked. “If the caravan makes it through the mountain pass, we’re fucked. We already have to walk through the heart of Silvalith without getting noticed, but going into Os Anguis fully armed with a target on our backs is just plain stupid.”

“Worst case scenario, we could always kill Riddle and stop a war before it starts,” Marlene mused.

“Full offense, that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“I said ‘worst case scenario’! Do you have a better ‘worst case’ plan?”

“Yes! It’s called ‘let’s not get publicly executed for high treason’!”

“I don’t think it counts as high treason if you’re not a citizen of Silvalith,” Sirius pointed out, earning him twin glares.

“Come on, guys, we’re seven of the best and brightest minds on the continent!” James protested. “We have a Plan A that works as long as we move fast, avoid attention, and make it through eastern Silvalith without a problem. Plan B doesn’t have to be complicated if we improvise.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we attract trouble like magnets,” Peter said. “Did you forget that a solid number of Silval soldiers are actively trying to kill us?”

“Assassins, not soldiers.” James corrected, then frowned. “Okay, I see your point now.”

“Improvisation isn’t a plan,” Lily said with an edge of exasperation. “At this point, I say we decide what to do with your parents once we find them and then figure out what the backup is.”

“All in favor of killing their captors?” Dorcas asked. Nobody raised their hands. “How about a quiet re-kidnapping?” Seven hands went into the air. “That settles it, then. The caravan will have probably made it to the northern border by now, so we’ll have to leave soon if we want to catch them before they reach the mountains.”

“They’ve got a five-day head start,” Sirius warned as he mentally traced their route along the map. If they did it right, they would pass through an area he knew fairly well. “We should leave by this afternoon at the very latest.”

“Lily, you’re going with them?” Mrs. Evans voice made them all jump a bit—Sirius had entirely forgotten that she was still within earshot. The earlier playfulness on her face had been replaced by concern and a touch of sadness.

Lily cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, mum, I am.”

“But why?”

Lily started to respond, then paused and looked down at the map. As much as Sirius hated to think about it, he understood; she had no stake in this dangerous, possibly fatal quest. Her family was safe, her country was still standing, and she had absolutely nothing to prove to anyone. She could stay here and be a woodsman in Bailey, she could forget about them all, she could let them go with an oath of secrecy, and nobody would be able to fault her for it. Sirius knew she was brave, but she was also one of the smartest people he knew; nobody in their right mind would agree to go on a cross-continental road trip for no reason.

“I—I don’t know.” Across the circle, James’ shoulders sank. I suppose we’re down to six, then. “I think…” she began again, trailing off before shaking her head. “I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t go. This is what friends do for each other.”

“Alright. Not that you need my permission anymore, but I won’t stop you,” Mrs. Evans said, suddenly sounding much older than she looked. “Come on into the kitchen and fix yourselves some sandwiches for the road. Nobody will leave my house hungry if I have anything to say about it.”

Sirius’ definition of ‘some sandwiches’ turned out to be vastly inadequate. Eventually, Lily had to stop her mother from filling one of the rucksacks they were borrowing with bread and meat instead of other necessities, like spare socks and their map. Many hands made light work, and within two hours it was time to go.

“Can I have a second, guys?” Lily asked as they gathered on the edge of the road.

“Take all the time you need,” Peter said, hoisting Lily’s pack onto his shoulder.

Mrs. Evans was still watching them from the front door, but her stoic expression shifted as Lily hurried back up the stone path for a final hug. “I’m so proud of you,” Sirius heard her say as she held her daughter tight. “Follow your heart.” Her eyes shone as Lily mumbled something into the thick coil of her hair. “Oh, I’ll miss you, too, Lily-love.”

Marlene let out a trembling breath next to Sirius and he pulled her in for a side-hug on instinct; he suddenly and fiercely wished she had had a chance to say goodbye to her mothers before they were taken. Whatever it takes, he promised himself. Whatever it takes to get them home.

Lily rejoined the group a few moments later, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she walked straight to the front of the pack without a backward glance. It was time to go.

“Who here has been to Silvalith before?” Sirius asked. “Outside of the council meetings, I mean.” Marlene, Remus, and Lily all raised their hands. “Pete, don’t you live on the border?”

“I did when I was little. Once the border disputes started getting violent, my mum and I moved closer to Courlion, just in case. There was no reason to go after that.”

“Right, physician’s apprentice. Did you learn anything besides embroidery there?”

Peter rolled his eyes at the playful ribbing. “It’s not embroidery, it’s sewing. And yes, I did. Just for that, I’m not stitching any of your limbs back together if you do something stupid.”

“Fine, I’ll get someone else to do it for me. One of you knows how to reattach arms and such, right?” Sirius’ inquiry was met with uncomfortable silence. “Really? Not a single one of you?”

“It never came up,” Dorcas defended.

“Lily, you might want to take back your earlier statement about us being useless,” Sirius sighed.

“Pompous, not useless, but alright.” Lily grinned. “I hereby declare everyone in this group except myself and Peter an official useless brat. Happy now?”

“You’re doing wonders for my self-esteem here, Lils,” James snorted.

“I’m sure you can stand to be taken down a peg.”

They bickered back and forth for another hour or so, trailing after Lily in a strange parade. Trading in their tattered and grimy clothing seemed to have been a good choice; they hardly got a second glance from the many farmers along the way.

The roads of the Middle Kingdom had always impressed Sirius: because of the heavy logging trade and the fact that most people had to cross it in order to get to the Eastern ports, the dirt and sawdust were thoroughly packed and sturdy. There was no leftover muck from rain and horses, and in some places, in had been paved with wide bricks where the ground was weakest.

“How long until we reach the village?” James grimaced as he adjusted one of the heavy rucksacks on his back and his spine popped. “Or even just a bench?”

“Marlene has the map, ask her,” Lily said.

“What? No, I don’t. Remus has it.”

“I do not!” Remus argued. “You said you’d put it away while I was packing the food.”

“I said Lily would put it away,” Marlene corrected. “And then she said she gave it to you.”

Lily turned to look at them both and the group came to a stop. “Marlene, I told you to get it off the table while Remus packed the sandwiches!”

“I told you I was packing the food!”

“It’s not my fault! Lily said she’d take care of it!”

“Stop it, all of you!” James cut in, stepping between them. “Let’s go through our stuff and check to see who has the map. It doesn’t matter whose fault it was.”

“It wasn’t mine,” Remus muttered under his breath.

Marlene rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of—” Her complaint cut off abruptly as a bundle of fabric hit her square in the nose. James raised his eyebrows at her and raised another pair of socks in a clear threat until she huffed and began helping him dig through their things.

Twenty minutes and plenty of cursing later, they discovered that nobody had, in fact, grabbed the map before they left the house. A second challenge came when none of them could figure out how to repack their bags, so the hurried scramble turned into lunch in the middle of the road. Ham and cheese sandwiches were decidedly less tasty when they were sun-warmed and a little dusty from travel, but Sirius was hungry enough to eat just about anything.

“Well. We have no map and we really can’t waste any more time if we want half a chance of catching that stupid fucking caravan,” Sirius said as he jammed the last waterskin back in. “At least you three have been here before.” There was a tense silence. No. Absolutely not. “Are you kidding me?”

“In my defense, I’m fantastic at navigating southern Silvalith,” Marlene said immediately. She seemed less likely to chop someone’s head off after some food, at least.

“Remus?”

“Same problem, opposite direction.”

“Lily, please tell me you know where you’re going.”

“I know how to get to the border, mostly,” she said, twisting the end of her braid. “The trade deals have been tapering off the past few years because we keep finding Silval soldiers poking around the towns, but my dad and I used to go there at least once a season.”

Dorcas pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “And none of you thought to bring that up when Sirius asked? You know, when we were still a reasonable distance from the cottage?”

“He didn’t specify!” Lily and Marlene exclaimed at the same time.

Sirius wanted to throttle them both. “I shouldn’t have to! My meaning was crystal clear!”

“He was pretty blatant about it,” James mused.

“You don’t get to defend him.” Marlene jabbed her pointer fingers at them. “You’ve got that weird telepathy thing going on and I don’t like it.”

“Look, why don’t we just keep walking until we reach the next town and find a map there,” Peter said, sounding utterly exhausted despite their recent meal. Sirius supposed spending time around the six of them would do that to a person as introverted as poor Peter.

“I’m with Pete,” Dorcas said, standing up and adjusting the spear on her back. “We’re not getting anything done by sitting around and arguing.”

“The future rulers of the continent, and not a single person remembers a fucking map,” James mumbled as he hauled Sirius to his feet. “Fantastic.”

“We’re lost.”

“No, we are not.”

“We’re definitely lost.”

“For the eightieth time, I know where we are!”

“Bullshit. We should’ve gone left.”

“For fuck’s sake, Sirius, give it a rest!”

“I’m with Sirius on this one—”

“Who would have guessed.”

“—and we should turn back before it gets any darker.” An owl hooted overhead and all seven of them jumped, forming an even tighter clump as they watched the sun grow lower and lower on the horizon.

“Turning back won’t do us any good.” Remus shook his head and turned to face James. “If you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of people around here.”

“I swear I saw a chimney not ten minutes ago.”

“Jamie, I love you, but you have terrible eyesight for anything within twenty feet of you. That was a dead tree.” Something moved in the underbrush and Sirius leaned closer to his brother, hovering his hand over the hilt of his sword. They had seen neither hide nor hair of the assassins since Hemgard, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

Another twig crackled, on Sirius’ other side this time. “Hello?” he called, slowly drawing his blade. “Is anyone there?”

“If you’re here to rob us, we have no money, just sandwiches and socks,” Marlene said. “You don’t like ham and cheese, do you? Ouch, Dorcas, that was my foot!”

“Lower your voice!” Dorcas hissed. The point of her arrow gleamed in the setting sun as she took up her position defending her fiancée’s back.

“I’m just asking!”

“Whoever’s out there, show yourself,” Remus demanded in a voice like stone. Unfortunately, it was kind of attractive, especially since it was still a little husky from the night before and—pull it together, Sirius. Now is not the time. Sirius shook his shoulders out and resumed scanning the shadowed trees around them.

A sudden scream pierced the air behind him, closely followed by James’ familiar shout of alarm and the twang of a bowstrng. Sirius whipped around, fully prepared to fight whoever was stalking them, only for Peter’s wayward elbow to put him off-balance. He stumbled into Remus’ back and within moments, all seven of them were in a pile on the ground, staring up at a scornful-looking cat.

One of James’ arrows was embedded in the ground next to its curling tail and it appeared personally offended by this fact, if its hiss of disapproval was anything to go by. Sirius had never been glared at by a cat before; somehow, the spectacle markings around its eyes made the effect even more pronounced.

“Is this what all the fuss was about?” Marlene asked. “You scared the shit out of me, you two.”

“It jumped out of nowhere,” Lily said sheepishly. The cat meowed loudly at her. “You did!”

Sirius untangled himself from the web of limbs, rucksacks, and weapons—it was a miracle none of them had lost an eye, what with all the sharp pointy bits laying about. “If anyone was wondering, my heart is doing fine now, though it’s found a new home in my throat for the time being.”

“I don’t like cats,” Remus grumbled as he dusted himself off. “Always running around and biting people.”

“I’m pretty sure direwolves bite people, too,” Sirius said.

“But not without a reason.” Remus sounded downright scandalized. Right. Sacred symbol.

“Where are your people, kitty?” Dorcas cooed, crouching down to the cat’s height and holding her hand out for it to sniff. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing.”

The cat rubbed its head against her palm, then moved past her and began weaving through everyone’s legs in a smooth ripple, pausing now and then to pass judgement. Sirius held his breath when it reached Remus, who had been eyeing it warily the whole time. The cat sat down in front of him and tangled its claws in his pant leg, tugging downward with a forceful meow.

“Stop it. Bad cat.” Remus shook his ankle around, but the paw didn’t budge.

“Mrow.” Another pull.

“If you rip my trousers, we’re going to have an issue.”

“Brrr.”

“Brrrr yourself.” Sirius stifled his laughter behind his hand and leaned his head on James’ shoulder, which was shaking with silent giggles. “Ugh, fine.”

Remus knelt on the ground and the cat removed its paw. If Sirius didn’t know better, he would have thought it raised its eyebrow. Slowly, deliberately, without breaking eye contact, the mysterious cat shuffled forward, leaned in, and rubbed both its cheeks against Remus’ with a low purr.

“Made a friend, have you?” Sirius said as the cat stepped back and began sauntering toward the trees to their right.

“I think she wants to show us something.”

“Excuse me?”

Instead of elaborating on his incredibly cryptic and unhelpful comment, Remus stood up and began following the cat.

“Remus,” Lily called. “Remus, I know you’re not big on teamwork but would you care to tell us why the hell we should follow a random cat into the very dark, very creepy woods?”

“Just trust me.”

“Wow, that’s the opposite of an answer.” James sighed.

Remus paused at the edge of the trees and gestured in exasperation. “Well, I’m not just going to leave you all here, but we’re going to lose her if you keep on standing around. Do you trust me or not?”

“Are you feeling alright?” Peter asked carefully. “It’s been a hard few days—"

Remus huffed. “I’m not going crazy. And for what it’s worth, I trust you. All of you. Can we please just follow the cat now?”

“Alright.” Sirius stepped forward and met Remus’ gaze. “I trust you.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a slight smile that sent Sirius’ insides tumbling over each other until he was sure everything was upside down and backwards. “Thanks.”

“Lead the way, cat whisperer,” Dorcas said as she peered through the trees. “Huh, would you look at that. She’s waiting for us.”

Sure enough, the cat was perched on a pile of tree roots, grooming one of her paws with the air of someone who simply could not be bothered by their petty arguments. “Doesn’t get much clearer than that,” James admitted.

The last of the sunlight was gone a mere five minutes into their journey, leaving them all stumbling along in the slivers of moonlit that filtered through the branches overhead. Marlene and Dorcas had the right idea in Sirius’ opinion—their tightly-clasped hands prevented any sudden stumbles that could take the whole group down yet again.

“Where are you taking us?” Sirius murmured as he missed another low-hanging branch by the thinnest of margins.

The cat trotted gracefully down a winding slope and disappeared around the curve. “Be careful here,” Remus warned, bracing one arm against a nearby tree as he started to step down. “It doesn’t look all that—" With a loud scraping noise, the rock he was stepping onto gave way and skidded into the darkness. Sirius lunged forward without a second thought and grabbed his wrist, leaning back with all his weight as the rock bounced off the walls of a deep ravine that none of them had noticed. “—steady,” Remus finished.

He pushed against the tree just as Sirius pulled on his arm, and they ended up bumping chests as he straightened. “You okay?” Sirius’ voice was weak even in his own ears.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Remus sounded even more breathless than when he had nearly fallen down a cliff; it would have been flattering if Sirius could focus on anything other than the way the moonlight caught the side of his face.

“So, the cat ditched us,” James said dryly. Remus reached down and carefully pried Sirius’ fingers off his wrist, his touch lingering a half-second longer than strictly necessary. What was that saying Euphemia was so fond of? Cold hands, warm heart?

“On the contrary, dear boy, I believe she brought you exactly where you needed to be.” A silver-blue light bobbed along the ravine path like a star come down to Earth.

“Who are you?” Lily asked suspiciously.

“My name is Albus Dumbledore.” As the light came closer, Sirius could make out the face of an old man with a long, white beard walking toward them. “Minerva has a knack for finding lost souls wandering about in the woods; I do hope she wasn’t too pushy with you.”

“Where is that light coming from?” Marlene squinted as Albus Dumbledore reached the top of the hill. He chuckled and thumped his tall walking stick twice on the ground—the light dimmed, spreading into a softer glow that illuminated everyone’s faces.

Dumbledore looked even older up close, yet there was a youthful twinkle in his eye that was equal parts inviting and unsettling, like he knew several things they did not. “Magic, of course.”

“Magic?” Peter’s skepticism was palpable. “Um. Alright.”

“Would you like to come back to my cottage for the night? It gets quite cold around here this time of year.”

“We really appreciate the offer, Mr. Dumbledore, but I think it would be best if we kept going. We have a long way to travel and not much time,” Dorcas said. In the gentle light, Sirius could see her hand twitching for Marlene’s as it often did when she was anxious.

“Ah, yes, your quest to save your parents.” Dumbledore nodded sagely, as if this was old news. “An honorable thing, to be sure, but ultimately unsuccessful. If you insist on going, it will be difficult to pursue without a map.”

Frost covered Sirius’ spine and he saw James stiffen in his periphery. How did he know about the map? “How do you know about our parents?” Marlene’s voice was low and dangerous in a way that Sirius heard very rarely.

“I know a great many things, Marlene of Tidoras, but I have very few people to share them with. If you are truly committed to your quest, I can help you on your way. If you choose not to accept my aid, I will send you along with my best wishes and a promise of safe passage through the woods.”

“Team meeting, everyone,” James said without looking away from the old man.

“He creeps me out, but I don’t get any really bad vibes,” Lily said quietly when they huddled up. Sirius glanced back at Dumbledore, who seemed to be deep in discussion with Minerva the cat. “I think he’s just a little off his rocker.”

“He knew about the map, and about our parents.” Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Something’s not quite normal.”

“I think we should go with him for the night and hear what he has to say,” Sirius said. “Worst case scenario, we leave with a crazy old man’s ramblings and a couple hours of rest.”

“I think the worst case scenario is getting murdered in our sleep, actually.” Peter frowned. “I don’t think he’d do that, though.”

“Any information he can give us is good information,” James sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I vote we go with him.”

“Me, too,” Dorcas said, rather grudgingly. “He’s bizarre, but he hasn’t tried to kill us yet.”

Marlene wrapped her arm around her fiancée’s waist. “I’m with Dorcas.”

James nudged his shoulder. “Sirius?”

“You know I’m on your side.”

“Remus?”

“We’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Pete? Lily?”

“I’m up for trying,” Lily said as Peter nodded.

“Mr. Dumbledore?” James turned around. “We would be honored to spend the night at your cottage.”

“Lovely!” Dumbledore straightened surprisingly smoothly for a man of his apparent age. “Follow me, please, and do be careful of the edge.”

The woods were damn near silent compared to the ones surrounding Varghal. Sirius flexed his jaw as they went deeper into the shadows, their way lit only by Dumbledore’s magical light—there was a faint buzzing in his ears that simply would not go away. He lost track of time within moments, and by the time they reached Dumbledore’s cottage he couldn’t tell if minutes or hours had passed. The shadows all ran together in his vision, broken up by strange pinpricks of multicolored lights that looked like animal eyes but clearly were not.

Minerva was waiting in the open doorway when they arrived, silhouetted by a cheerful orange glow from the fireplace. Next to him, the tension that had melted off of Remus during their walk returned with a vengeance, and he balked as they approached. “Are you okay?” Sirius asked as his pupils dilated.

“It smells like smoke,” Remus muttered.

It’s ashes. It’s all ashes and there is nothing left. Of course he wouldn’t want to be around fire. “Do you want to wait outside? We don’t have to go in.”

Remus shook his head, then paused as a fresh plume of smoke curled into the night air and sent a small shiver through him. “I don’t know.”

“My apologies, Remus, I had forgotten.” Dumbledore snapped his fingers and the scent of smoldering logs completely disappeared, leaving only the crisp sweetness of the forest. “I can assure you it is much warmer indoors, if you should choose to come in.”

The welcoming glow of the cottage remained, but the chimney looked as though it had never been used; not a single wisp lingered. As soon as they crossed the threshold, James gripped Sirius’ elbow tightly. “Do you smell—”

“Yeah.”

The cloud of sandalwood and jasmine hit him like a punch to the heart as they entered the main room of Dumbledore’s home. Suddenly, all Sirius could feel was the warmth of Euphemia’s arms around him and Fleamont’s steady hand on his shoulder, both shielding him from the monsters that chased him across the world. He could practically hear the chime of her bangles, could feel the softness of the old shirts that Sirius borrowed until he received clothing of his own. James was there, too, in the sea salt and coconut; somewhere, deep beneath, he heard the familiar laughter of someone he had not seen in a long, long time against the smell of star-shaped sugar cookies fresh from the oven.

“What is this?” Dorcas asked, her voice thick with emotion. “What are you doing?”

“Ah.” Dumbledore’s gaze was full of pity as he looked at them over his half-moon glasses. “That, I am afraid, is not my doing. This cottage was built from the wood of the storgus tree, which is quite comforting to most, though I suppose it would be bittersweet for you. Please, have a seat.”

James cleared his throat, opened his mouth, then took a deep breath before he trying to speak. Euphemia and Fleamont were the closest thing Sirius had to actual parents, but he had only known them for six years; he couldn’t imagine what this was like for James. “You said you had information for us?”

“I do. To be frank, your quest will not succeed.”

Marlene clung to the armrests of her chair. “It has to. We will get our parents back and stop this war.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Dumbledore chuckled. “You have a strong family here, and I have the feeling you will not let each other down. No, what I mean is that your current plan is doomed to fail in more ways than one.”

Peter exhaled slowly. “So how do we fix it?”

“I’m glad you asked, Mr. Pettigrew. The first problem with your plan is that the caravan will certainly cross the Frystmarkan border by tomorrow afternoon. The second is that you are being hunted by Death Eater assassins as we speak, and if Minerva had not brought you here you would have been caught before dawn.” Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. “The third issue has to do with your plans for Tom Riddle.”

“King Riddle?” Lily frowned. “We were going to turn him over to the authorities and expose his corruption.”

“Yes, you were. Please do not take offense to this, but it was quite foolish to believe a man as powerful as Tom Riddle would go quietly out of power. In order to achieve true peace, he must die.”

Dumbledore’s words hung heavy in the room, nearly overpowering the scent of home and family. “We have to kill him?” Sirius asked.

“In one way or another.” The old man looked truly dismayed by this for reasons beyond Sirius’ grasp. “Therein lies your final challenge, of course: how to do it?”

“Dorcas and I are both archers,” James offered, though he looked rather sickened by the idea. “If we catch him in front of a window, we might have a chance.”

“I admire your nerve, but it is not so simple as that. Tom Riddle comes from a land of magic, the same land I used to call home before it was devastated by war. He can only be killed with a weapon from the place of his birth, and the world can only heal if his evil is obliterated.” Dumbledore took another long sip of tea as Minerva curled up on the nightstand next to Dorcas’ elbow.

“Destroyed?” Remus said softly. “He’s not from…?”

“He is not from your homeland, no,” Dumbledore assured. “Tom Riddle and I both hail from what is now called the Wildland.”

“But nobody lives there,” Dorcas protested. “It’s just cracked earth and monsters as far as the eye can see.”

A great wave of sadness washed over his wrinkled face. “Seventy years ago, Tom Riddle attempted to destroy his only physical weakness and become immortal, but his plan backfired and the Wildland became what it is today. What once pulsed with life and magic became a parched wasteland. However, his weakness still resides in the compass rose for those who are pure of heart enough to seek it.”

“Then we’ll start in the morning,” Sirius said. “With seven people searching, we’ll find it for sure.”

Dumbledore held up one hand and took a long sip of tea. “I admire your nerve, but that will not solve your problems. By the time you travel south, find the dagger, return, and make your way to Os Anguis without discovery, it will be too late to stop the war, not to mention you will lose the trail of your parents.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s saying we have to split up,” Lily said. “One group has to go to the Wildland while the other tracks the soldiers down and does what they can to warn people about the war. We would meet in Os Anguis.”

“Absolutely not.” James’ voice brooked no room for argument. “We work as a team. Nobody will get separated ever again.”

The memory of Remus arriving the night before covered in blood, soot, and fear rose unbidden to Sirius’ mind. He couldn’t bear seeing that again with anyone else. “Let’s discuss it in the morning after we’ve had some sleep, okay?” Peter offered. Sirius could hear in his tone that he knew they would have to split up; he was already grieving. The rest of them muttered their assent, and Sirius prepared himself for a long night.

Waking up in a magic forest was strange. It was quiet except for the gentle buzzing, and the smell of Sirius’ family clung to his throat with every breath. He had slept like a log and didn’t dream once, but the bitter resignation of what was to come laid heavy on his tongue when he woke.

He was the first one up, for once, and took a moment to drink in the sight of his friends as they laid at peace. Marlene and Dorcas were facing one another, their foreheads and knees touching so the curve of their backs formed an unconscious heart. Peter was curled in a ball near the heavy curtain of Lily’s vibrant hair; her freckled face smoothed in sleep, making her look more like the girl Sirius had played board games with a mere week prior. James was splayed beneath the blankets, snoring softly—Sirius would never tire of seeing him free of the bonds of responsibility.

And Remus was…well, he was glowing. It was silly to feel like much for one person so fast; Sirius was well aware that he was in too deep for rationality. If he concentrated, he could still feel the tingle of Remus’ hand clasped in his own as he teetered along the edge of a precipice. That’s fitting, he thought wryly. It feels like this has been one fall after another. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the forest’s magic, or maybe it was Sirius’ irrational brain telling him that’s the only one for you, but Remus shone with a low golden light.

When Sirius finally went into the kitchen, Minerva was sitting primly on the table next to a teacup of cream and a small plate of biscuits. “Can cats eat biscuits?” he wondered aloud, only to be met with a disapproving look. “Sorry.”

“Good morning.” Dumbledore entered the kitchen in long blue robes and a tall hat decorated with stars. “How did you sleep?”

“Quite well, thank you.” Sirius took the proffered scone and cup of tea gratefully.

“This journey will be difficult for you, Sirius Black.” Dumbledore settled into his chair with a mild expression, seemingly oblivious to the way all of Sirius’ blood drained into his feet and left him swaying in his seat. “You will need to face that which you do not wish to.”

“I’m not afraid to face my parents,” he gritted out. “Not anymore. I’ll gladly give them a piece of my mind.”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes sharpened as he finally looked up. “I’m not talking about them.”

Sirius deflated. “I know.”

“Good. You’re an intelligent young man.” Dumbledore spread some frightfully orange jam on a biscuit. “If you can spare an eye, keep it trained on your friends, especially young Remus.”

“Why? What’s going to happen to them?”

“As of right now, nothing out of the ordinary.” Dumbledore paused, them set his breakfast down and faced Sirius fully. “Though, if Remus goes to the Wildland, he will die.”

The room dropped twenty degrees. “How do you know that?”

“I am not at liberty to say, but I can tell you this: he has hidden depths that the Wildland will take too kindly to, in a manner in which he will not survive.”

“Oh, you’re awake.” James’ drowsy voice broke through Sirius’ spiraling thoughts as he shuffled into the kitchen and took the seat next to Sirius’. He scratched Minerva behind the ears and she purred. “The others will be out soon.”

“Good.”

James squinted at him. “You seem…off. Are you feeling okay?”

“Just worried.” Sirius forced a reassuring smile. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

True to James’ word, the other five members of their party trouped out to the table over the course of half an hour. The meal was the quietest they had ever had together.

“So,” Lily finally said, breaking the silence. “I suppose we should figure out groups.”

“I still think it’s a bad idea,” James offered halfheartedly. “But you’re right.”

“I’ve been to the borders of the Wildland a bunch of times with my dads, so I should be in that group,” Dorcas said as she folded and refolded her napkin. “James, I think it might be best if you came with me, since Marajis and the Eastern Coast are allies.”

“I’ll go with you, too,” Marlene said.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Sirius said as gently as he could. “You know southern Silvalith like the back of your hand and you can call in favors in Tidoras if we need them. It’s the same with Peter.”

“I’m not leaving my fiancée to go running through a land of monsters without me to watch her back,” Marlene snapped. “I suppose you’re going to go with James, though?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What?” James turned slowly to look at him.

Sirius’ mouth was dry despite the tea. “I’m going with the Silvalith group.”

“Sirius, we’re a team, you promised—”

“I’m useless in the Wildland, Jamie,” Sirius interrupted. “I have no real ties for the Eastern Coast and I’ve never seen a speck of that place. As much as I want to go with you to the ends of the earth, I can help in Silvalith. Please don’t fight me on this.”

The betrayal on James’ face hurt more than anything Sirius had ever felt. He had promised to stick by James’ side in that stupid, freezing cave, and here he was backing out on it so soon.

“I’ll go with you and Dorcas,” Lily said. “That way Remus can lead you three through the northern boundary if you need it. Besides, it’s good to have someone on your team who doesn’t use a bow in a fight.”

“I can provide you with transportation out of the forest and into the Wildland, but you will need to find your own way back from there,” Dumbledore said. Sirius jumped a little; he had nearly forgotten the old man. “You have approximately an hour before you must go.”

One hour. One lousy hour to steel his nerves and say goodbye to his best friend in the world, his brother, his Jamie. The seven of them stood without another word and began to gather their meager belongings.

Dumbledore took each group aside and gave them a new drawstring bag with a map, a compass, and a variety of oddities that Sirius was half-convinced he put in as a joke. “It is time,” he said at last as one of four cuckoo clocks in the kitchen began to roar like a lion. “James, Dorcas, and Lily, please follow me.”

Though he only called three names, the whole group trailed out of the house and onto the thick moss that coated the ground. The forest was beautiful in the daytime, shimmering and humming with life. The multicolored blots that Sirius remembered from the previous night were small balls of rainbow flame bouncing through the trees; from what he could tell, they were also the source of the buzzing noise.

“Wait,” he blurted as Dumbledore raised his arms high above his head. “Can I—can we say goodbye first?”

The old wizard’s face filled with kindness and he nodded. “Of course.”

Sirius was moving before he even thought it through and James met him in the middle, colliding with a harsh gasp. “It’s not goodbye,” he managed around the clog in his throat. “This is not goodbye, okay? I’m so sorry I’m not going with you.”

“I understand,” James said, his desperate voice muffled in Sirius’ shoulder. “I’m sorry I was angry. We’re still a team. A little distance can’t get in the way of that, yeah?”

“Yeah.” With tremendous effort, Sirius released his hold and ruffled up James’ hair. “Stay safe, Jamie.”

“You, too.”

“Hey, Red?” Sirius called as James walked back toward Dumbledore. “Take care of him for me?”

Lily nodded. “You can count on me.”

“Dorcas? Our window is getting smaller.” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle as he looked over to the last member of the party, who was holding Marlene like it was the last time.

“I love you so much,” Marlene whispered, brushing a stray lock of dark, coiled hair out of her fiancée’s deep brown eyes.

“I love you more,” Dorcas responded, pulling her in for a kiss. Sirius’ chest ached at their love, at the care with which Marlene cradled Dorcas’ face in her hands and at the way they seemed to melt together into one person for a moment. Quite the pair. Two halves of one soul.

When they finally separated and Dorcas took her place in the circle, Dumbledore began to chant a series of flowing phrases in a strange language. Sirius did not understand it, but he felt as though the meaning of each word was just on the tip of his tongue.

In a flash of light, the trio was gone.

#axe and sword #fanfiction #marauders #my post #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #albus dumbledore #wolfstar #dorlene #jily

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arofili · 4 years

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The Second Kinslaying

for @feanorianweek, day 5: Curufin. this fic is my headcanons for how the Second Kinslaying went down. this is a dream/flashback from chapter 4 of a longer fic about the Feanorians’ rebirth, but it stands on its own and i’m quite proud of it so i wanted to share it again!!

CW: canonical character death, graphic depictions of violence

Maedhros tells them to hold back as long as they can. Curufin tries to listen, but he is so full of anger; the Oath pushes him forward...

They are met by a line of guards—marchwardens summoned home to protect Menegroth from attack. They are not enough, not without Melian's protection. Maedhros orders not to kill them unless they must. Curufin tries to obey, he truly does, but the first marchwarden cuts down one of his warriors and he sees red. Before he knows it, he has killed again.

It's never easy. Looking into the glassy eyes of another elf, their blood on your hands, their fae drained away... Your own fae is tattered at the edges, bleeding out its light. Curufin isn't just tattered, he's shredded into pieces.

Caranthir charges forward, wreaking a path of destruction. He screams Dior's name, taunting him, goading him to come out and fight. "Or are you content to let your people die for you?" he cries. Curufin is too caught up in the battle to feel anything other than a brief pang of fear for his brother. Caranthir fights alone: it is his way, has always been his way.

Maedhros and Maglor are together, bellowing commands to their warriors, trying to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. Maglor weaves between Maedhros' swordstrokes, dancing in a rhythm only he can hear. He is preparing for something, Curufin knows. Something powerful. Maedhros stands tall, defending. He cuts down only those who come for him, never seeking out an opponent. He doesn't have to: he is the leader, the eldest, the fiery beacon burning through the gaping wounds in his fae. He is the target.

The twins are hidden in the trees. They and their archers rain arrows upon the warriors; the strategy is not as effective as it would have been in their own lands. The marchwardens know their home too well, and clamber up the branches to fight them closer.

He and Celegorm are back to back, working together as they always have. They are better as a unit, fiercer and sharper and faster. United with his brother, Curufin is unstoppable. Celegorm is wildness, he is cleverness. Together they are a force to be reckoned with.

The carnage outside the throne room is sickening, even to Curufin. He wades in blood, widening his stance so he does not slip; he watches less experienced fighters trip over the bodies of their fallen kin. When one marchwarden falters in such a blunder, Curufin lunges, splitting him open from groin to gullet.

At last they see Dior. He is radiant, glowing like a Calaquendi, but all seven Fëanorians can see at once that he has hidden the Silmaril. It may still be on his person, or it may be elsewhere—where is it? where is it? where is it?

Caranthir screams and rushes forward into the throne room. He babbles some nonsense about a Maia's bastard, coming completely unhinged. Curufin exchanges one look with Celegorm, and they hurry to their brother's aid.

They can't get close enough. Behind him, Curufin can hear Maglor's voice raised in a song of power, and the earth trembles—the walls outside the throne room collapse. They are trapped inside. The fighting intensifies; Curufin and Celegorm protect Caranthir's back, holding back anyone who tries to assault him in his march to Dior, but they cannot reach him.

"What is he doing?" Celegorm bellows. "This is madness! He'll be killed!"

Caranthir has cast down his shield. He holds a blade in either hand, and he leaps toward Dior, who catches those twin blades with his own curved sword.

Madness. Yes, that was the right word. Caranthir had gone mad, heedless of his many wounds, completely berserk. Celegorm cried out to him, but Curufin knew it wouldn't work. Caranthir was too far gone inside his own mind.

"NO!" Celegorm shouts, and Curufin can't find words, can't find air, can't find meaning—

Dior's blade has sliced through Caranthir's armor, through his skin, through his belly, straight through to the other side of his body.

Caranthir goes still, staring into Dior's gleaming eyes. "Kinslayer," he says through a mouthful of blood, before he falls limp, Dior's blade sliding out of him.

Fool. A damn fool, that's what he was. Curufin's hot tears blind him as he rushes forward, heedless of who he's killing as he fights his way to his brother's body. Celegorm roars, and he's no singer like Maglor, but the sound sends a wave of force throughout the throne room. Every elf tumbles to the ground—only Curufin, standing in his shadow, keeps his footing. He darts forward, slicing throats, slitting wrists, stealing life from all those around him. He isn't sure if all his own warriors had already fallen, or if he had killed them all too, but by the time he regains control of himself, only he, Celegorm, and Dior are standing.

"You know," Celegorm growls as he advances on the murderous king, "if you had surrendered and given us the Silmaril, we would have spared you. Even if we'd already started fighting. But now?" He lunges forward, nicking Dior on the arm before his blow is deflected. "Now, I don't care what you do. I'm going to fucking disembowl you."

"Oh, yes," Curufin hisses, mirroring his brother as the duel begins in earnest. "You killed our brother. I am going to enjoy your suffering, Dior Eluchíl."

(The worst thing, Curufin thinks later, after it is all over, is that it is absolutely true. He never took pleasure in murder, despite what the stories may have said. He accepted it as part of the Oath they had sworn and didn't waste time obsessing over the guilt—not the way Nelyo did—but he never liked it. But this time...)

This time, he relishes every second of Dior's pain and fear. He draws it out, longer than he needs to, balancing Celegorm's impatient fury. Dior knows he's losing, but he holds his own against the two most fearsome warriors left living in Beleriand. He must have known this day would come, must have been raised in fear of the Fëanorians.

Well, good, Curufin thinks as he cuts one of Dior's sleeves off, then the other, grinning as Dior gasps from the pain of the shallow grazes on his arms. He deserves every second of terror, for what he had done to Caranthir.

"Shall we finish him, brother?" he asks Celegorm.

"I think we shall," Celegorm growls. He raises his sword for one final, heaving blow—

And Dior, faster than Curufin thought anyone could be, twists away from Curufin and drives his blade right into Celegorm's chest.

Celegorm finishes his movement, thrown off balance by the deadly wound but still managing to slice open Dior's stomach. His guts spill across his body with an acidic stench that rises to Curufin's nostrils, but he barely notices as Celegorm heaves his last breath and falls, glassy-eyed, to the blood-drenched floor.

Dior tumbles to the ground, groaning horribly, his sword clattering out of his hand. Curufin turns away from him, kneeling beside Celegorm's body, howling his grief. He feels as if half his soul has been torn from him. Celegorm is dead.

Curufin rises, trembling. He casts aside his own blade and picks up Dior's sword, advancing on his fallen foe.

"Where is it?" he hisses. "The Silmaril! Where is it?"

Dior laughs, an awful, guttural sound. "You'll never get it," he rasps. "Never. Not even—" he coughs, choking on his own blood— "not even if you slaughter everyone in Doriath. You'll never find it."

Curufin's rage is controlled, precise. He has honed it over his entire life like he would any other weapon, and even now he does not lose that control.

"My brother was always true to his word," he says softly, almost conversationally. "He promised to disembowl you." Curufin prods the mass of putrid guts spilling out of Dior's stomach, chuckling. "And he did it. I, however, am a known liar. I said I would enjoy your death. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps I will let you lie here until the rats come to feast upon you. I should let you bleed out, long and slow. You are going to die, you know."

Fear flickers in Dior's eyes. Curufin smiles.

"Yes, I think I'll do that," he says. "Let you go at your own pace. That will delay the inevitable."

"You..." Dior rasps, but Curufin cuts him off.

"Ah ah ah," he tuts. "Talking only makes it worse."

He shifts as if to turn around, letting Dior think he's gotten off the hook, that perhaps there may some way his Ainur blood could stitch him back together. He sees Dior relax slightly out of the corner of his eye.

Then he spins back around, shoving Dior's own blade down his throat until he chokes on it, bursting through his esophagus and pinning him to the floor. Dior screams, as much as a dying man with a sword through his throat can scream, and the awful noise causes a thrill of sadistic joy in the pit of Curufin's stomach.

The scream trails off into a hideous gurgle, and Curufin's shoulders slump. Grief at last overtakes him, and he shakes as sobs rack his body. Caranthir is dead. Celegorm is dead. Dior is dead, also, but the Silmaril is not on his body. Unless the others have discovered it, this horror is all in vain...

The others. Maedhros, Maglor, Amrod, Amras. He must tell them what had happened. He must be the one to deliver the heartbreaking news that two of them had fallen. He must—

"Oh," he says softly as he feels cold steel run through his back and watches as a sword slides through his belly. He is dizzy all of a sudden, though his rhaw has gone numb and all sense of pain is dulled.

Curufin topples backward, falling on the hilt of the sword, the weight of his body pushing the blade deeper into his torso. He looks up, mouth hanging open in surprise, to see a slight and silvery figure hovering above him, her bloodstained hands clasped over her mouth in horror. Nimloth has taken vengeance for her husband.

He locks eyes with her. He is barely aware of what he whispers in his dying breath, but she hears it, the echo of Caranthir's last accusation:

"Kinslayer."

[read more about Curvo’s thoughts “after it is all over” in ATATYA, the fic i pulled this snippet from! and please, please leave a comment if you enjoy!]

#feanorianweek #curufin #caranthir #celegorm #silmarillion #dior #nimloth #silm #my writing #tefain nin #atatya #the second kinslaying #second kinslaying

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dynamesvirtue · 4 years

Text

False Light Ch.1

AFTER A MONTH and 2 days, Here is my first chapter of my Magnus fic, I hope you enjoy and any feedback would be appreciated!

7 months left

Tap tap tap. The sound of nail hitting against wood was heard quite loudly in the silent apartment. Dull and tired eyes stared idly at the blank word Doc on the screen. Her St Bernard Nana, laid close to her feet, yawning before putting his head down. Bailee had to choose her words wisely, those assholes were always watching. Deadlines due in six hours, and her leads on dethklok have fallen kinda of short. Online reports were the worst, it just made her procrastination that much easier. Luckily she only had to do this once or twice a month, being a reputable Dethklok reporter has its perks. She would rather be out there being the first one to get the scoop as she normally did. And her mysterious “manager” was extremely helpful with her success. In a way, Bailee sort of felt bad for the folks reading or watching her work. They had no clue what’s to come and the thought of that sort of excites her.

Leaning back on her desk chair, the tired girl looked at the few files that laid on her desk. Majority of them were mundane Dethklok shenanigans and leads she found out a few hours prior. One of them caught her eye was that Nathan was dating a fan. It was quite interesting after the whole NateBecca scandal, but this one really takes the cake. After digging into this Trindle girl, Bailee already knew this was going to be a mess. They’ve been only dating for a couple of days and she has a history of dating Nathan impersonators. She wonders if the poor boy knows anything about her obsession, and was surprised that Charles let someone that unstable so close to the band. How Hypocritical. After showing the would be article to Magnus, the two had a good laugh, with him stating Nathan always had a thing for crazy or insane girls. She just might go with this one.

The other file only had a couple of information on it. As Nathan is dating again, William Murderface started to take up smoking. Not entirely news worthy as the one prior, but has a bit more to go on. As the band is now known smokers besides cannabis, the Tobacco stocks and sales have risen and so has the number of first time smokers. Most of them range from early teens to late 40’s. Not entirely news worthy since the world doesn’t have that many years left anyways. Bailee never understood the appeal of smoking. It smells bad and tastes just as bad as well. Some of her so-called friends smoked all the time and she hated the smell. Her tired face made a small smile as she thought she was lucky Magnus was able to quit smoking long before he met her.

The third and last file she had wasn’t really for the public eye. Magnus and her were working on this together, but it's been a couple of months she heard anything from her “manager” or her usual insider friends. Though he remained calm about it, she knows the so-called “rumor” was eating the back of his mind. He waited this long to have something planned against Dethklok, what can waiting a little bit longer do? A small pout pulled at her lips as she felt like in a similar situation. Bailee could never understand how patient the Tribunal was with the whole prophecy thing. So close yet still out of their reach. She was ready for the chaos to happen with her and Magnus officially starting the shebang. But in order for this to work, She needs to have Magnus stay in the dark, just like his role as the “Man who stands behind shadows”.

Thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an alarm pinging. Looking at the clock of the screen she let out a groan. 5 more hours until it's due. “The sooner you finish it the quicker you’re done with it!” Magnus called from the living room. Soon after that he heard her reply with another groan. Nana barked in agreement. Eventually she decided to give the smoking article to Smokearooni Aficionado. Seemed like to fit their style and the extra bucks that came from that lead didn’t hurt either. Now that she’s finally picked a topic, Bailee went to typing.

A few days later..

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to come, it was totally epic!” Bailee exclaimed, waving her arms in excitement as Magnus grabbed her suitcase. “Bodies, everywhere! Blood, everywhere! They even found Trindle’s body among the mess HA! How easily death follows Dethklok!” The bitter man made an annoyed groan, slamming the trunk of the car rather hard as she continued her supposed rant. He always felt annoyed with her line of work. Dethklok this, Dethklok that. Yeah, it was the main source of their income, but knowing every move they made all the time just irritated him to no end. Though it was useful for future arrangements, it was just annoyance.

Bailee noticed his change in demeanor and stopped her ranting, though a grin was still plastered on her face. She felt like something was gonna change, and hopefully soon. Though it wasn't time to let Magnus know what was truly going on. "Let's get going.." She said, stretching her arm over her head. "I just wanna go home." She leaned onto Magnus who was standing next to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. All she wanted to do was relax and spend time she had left with Magnus. It could be hours before she was pulled into work again. Being a reporter for Dethklok was demanding, but someone had to do it. Just the thought of working again after flying back home made her pout and cling on to her boyfriend even tighter. Eyeing her pout, Magnus gave her a quick kiss on the head and rubbed her back. "Ok then.. let's get going." He said softly.

The ride home started off quiet. The airport was a bit away from home so the car ride was rather long. The two of them sat in comfortable silence as the radio played softly in the background. It was some rock station trying to promote new bands. Bailee watched idly as they passed by random buildings next to the freeway. Her hand twirling around her orange hair. While away she noticed her roots were coming back in. Maybe it was time to change her hair color again, though she had gotten used to the bright orange hair over the past month. The sound of Magnus' voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "What?" She said softly, clearly not hearing what he said. "I said, 'whatcha thinking about?'" He repeated, his eye still focused on the road. She hummed for a second before replying to him. "Nothing in particular..." she said. "Though.. I am curious." Magnus interrupted her with a scoff. "When are you not?" The reporter let out a laugh and playfully nudged his shoulder. "Whatever!" She smiled. "I was gonna ask, what do you do when I'm gone?" She tilted her head to the side, curious to see what his answer was. Magnus pressed his lips together toughly. What she doesn’t know is that he also has a trick up his sleeve. Someone reached out to him while Bailee was out on a different work trip. Though it was a brief meet and greet, that person also had mutual grudge against Dethklok. However he would only meet him while she was away. The man was not someone that Magnus wanted Bailee to be around with.

“Oh you know. Just lazy on about, ignoring Nana and getting wasted until you come home.” He joked, keeping his little secret in the back of his mind. Bailee arched her brows before laughing. “If I ever believed that, it would be pathetic. Plus You would never ignore Nana.” She said in between laughter. “So you think I would be pathetic?” He questioned, playfully pretending to be hurt. “Hmm a bit sad but not that pathetic.” She replied. With a grin still on her face, her hand stopped twirling, her played-with hair bounced lightly on her chest. Her eyes gave Magnus a sensual look. “So tell me what do you really do when I’m gone?” She said in a low voice. Oh he knows where she's going with this. Magnus bit the inside of his lip as he tried to focus on the road ahead of them. The exit they needed to take wasn't too far now. Though his thoughts were distracted as Bailee placed a hand on his thigh. “Well?” She questioned, waiting for a reply. Magnus shuddered as his girlfriend began to rub his thigh. Damn girl knew how to get him aroused. “C-Come on Bails.. This isn’t the time for that. Besides… You know I preferred if you watch.” He chuckled. His girlfriend gave a playful pout and placed her hand back in her lap. She gave a playful pout and placed her hand back in her lap. “Fiine I’ll let you win... for now.” She stuck out her pierced tongue at him.

After that the ride home was quite short. Once off the freeway it was only 15 minutes before they could reach the townhouse that they shared. Though as Magnus parked the car in the garage, they heard Nana barking like crazy. Bailee immediately glared at him. “What did you do to her?? Leave her on the leash again?!”

“What!? No of course not. I’m not that cruel.” He argued back. “Maybe she just saw a squirrel or something.” Bailee rolled her eyes and scoffed, rushing in the house. Magnus followed suit, but as the pair rushed through the door, they both immediately stopped in their tracks. The backyard door was shattered with a hole in it, a bloody trail leading to an even bloodier rock with what seemed like a note attached to it. Nana was still barking wildly from the opposite of the room. The baby barrier blocked her from entering the open kitchen and dining room. Both Magnus and Bailee were too scared to move, and were pale as a ghost, hoping the note wasn’t from someone they didn’t want the other to meet.

#metalocalypse #dethklok #magnus hammersmith #Bailee OC #also hey Bailee has a last name and a dog now XD #thanks metalocalypse discord

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cilliansaccent · 4 years

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The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 10

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! e.

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 4,137

!!Warnings!!: Smut!! Graphic Smut!!! ;) Enjoy you naughty kiddies.

Date: December 2016

Chapter Name: Distract me, Cillian.

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabrijela talks to Cillian what happened to her at the Christmas party before they discuss her hobby as a band member before it ends with one hell of a steamy afternoon...

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When Gabrijela woke up, she felt sick and iffy. She coughed pushing herself up with an arm as she rubbed her eyes. She was alone in the bed, but the door was open and she could hear music coming from downstairs.

She got out of the bed and found some slippers set beside the bed. She slipped them on. She walked over to the window and pushed back the heavy drapes, it was raining lightly outside. She loved the rain, this was perfect weather to be in bed.

She smiled and turned and headed out of the room and down the stairs. The music was Christmas music, the classics that everyone would play. She peaked her head through the threshold to the living room and found Cillian sitting in the armchair before the fire, reading with his glasses on. There was a large flatscreen TV above the fire mantle. Near the bay window, there was a Christmas tree set up. No presents beneath it.

"Good morning." She said, her voice coming out rough. She cleared her throat.

Cillian looked up, "Oh morning." He said as he tucked in a bookmark and took off his glasses as he stood. "How did you sleep?"

"Really good. Cozy and warm. You?" She asked as she came over and sat down in the two-seater couch.

"Same as you. I haven't made breakfast yet as I don't know what you want today." He said as he sat back down.

"Well, I'm craving chicken soup. Mum would always make it for me when I was sick." She said.

"Hm, well I don't have it but I can run down to the store to buy some?" He offered.

"If you don't mind. I'll write down the ingredients." She said and he passed her his phone so she could jot down what she needed.

"That's it?" He looked at the list.

"Yeah. That's all. It's simple but super tasty." She smiled.

"Okay then, I'll be back soon." He said and touched her shoulder as he left.

She pulled the knitted throw around her and watched the fire, getting lost in her thoughts. She could hear the faint ringtone of her phone upstairs but didn't feel like getting it. But it kept ringing and she sighed as she got up to go check it.

Missed calls from Logan and Lucia and from her dad. "Fuck." She grumbled, she had to call her dad back. So she did and apologised to him that she didn't pick up last night and that she was tired and exhausted. But Lucia had told her dad about last night but in a twisted way. Gabrijela was drunk and had attacked Lucia when she was with some guy.

"So you would believe her rather than me?" She snapped at him. "How could you."

"I am getting your side of the story, Gabrijela." He said, his tone hard.

"Well, I didn't attack no one, Dad. She was being... she..." she choked on the words, "You know what she was doing with another man in a bathroom stall." She held back her tears that threatened to come.

"Gab..." His voice softened, "Did you love this man?"

Gabrijela thought about it, she had started to fall for Logan, "No." She shook her head, "But I was falling for him."

Her father had fallen silent but sighed, "Are you okay?"

"I'm dealing. I'll be fine." She shrugged, "Anyway, I gotta go." She said as she heard the door unlock and open. "Goodnight dad." She waved.

"Goodnight my blossom," He smiled and hung up.

She got up and headed down the stairs and went into the kitchen. It was entirely white with light brown beams that framed the window above the double basin sink. Countertops were made of white marble with pale grey cracks in it. It opened up to the dining room that leads out to a small deck and then flowed into the green garden.

The kitchen had a farm touch to it, "You have a really nice house, Cillian." She said.

"Thank you. I like the coziness of it. I'll take you upstairs after breakfast, you'll love it." He smiled as he set out the items. "So what should I do first?"

"I'll do it," She shakes her head, "You can admire me from afar." She came over and bumped her hip with his to nudge him out of the way.

"From afar? Why not close?" He cocked a brow perfectly.

"Close then, but I forbid you from helping." She pointed at him. "Where are the pots?"

He showed her and she got into it. The recipe was simple, but it wasn't going to be exactly like how her mum would make it. But it was better than nothing.

Soon enough they sat on the couch before the fire, bowls in their hands and they ate. A throw was covering their legs.

"This is so good. Better than what I made that first time." He said and tipped his head back to drink the soup.

"Nah, I think we are tied." She said doing the same before she set the bowl down on the table.

"You think so?" He looked at her, hooking his arm over the back of the couch, holding his head up with a hand.

"I do think so." She moved closer to him as she got comfy.

"Did you want to watch TV?" He asked as he watched her sigh and lay her head back.

"No. Not really." She shook her head, her expression changing.

He frowned a little before he took her hand, "I'm here for you, okay?"

She looked down at their held hands then met his blue eyes, tears lined her eyes, "I'm hurting, Cillian." She whispered as she moved into his arms, an arm over his stomach.

"Talk to me." His arms went around her, squeezing her gently.

"Last night... Logan threw a Christmas party and I brought along Lucia, my best friend cause she came to see me. You know the one you saw in that video chat all those months ago?"

"Yeah, I remember." He nodded. He had an idea of where this was going.

"So yeah, at the party, everything was going well but I had this weird feeling something wasn't right. And then I went to uh... I went to look for Logan and... In the bathroom... He... He was with Lucia... They-" She choked as tears began to fall again.

"Darling you don't need to say it. Hey, hey shhh." He wiped away her tears, cupping her cheek.

"They've been doing it behind my back for four months, Cillian." She sobbed, the emotions rushing through her, "I-I shouldn't have trusted him so fast. Fuck I made the wrong choice." She whispered burying her face in his neck.

His heart broke for her, it made him so upset to see her like this. How could anyone think to hurt someone as sweet and kind like her?

"Do not let this ruin you, Gabrijela." He murmured into her hair, "You don't deserve these tears. Not on this beautiful face." He pulled back to gaze into her eyes.

"The worst thing is the whole thing is so similar to how my ex ended up. God," she frowned and looked at the fire. "I shouldn't have trusted him. I thought he was better."

"Sometimes people can be cruel despite their pretty demeanour," Cillian muttered.

Gabrijela nodded and turned back to him, "But I know you are true and real." She sniffled as she touched his cheek. "You're a good man, Cillian. Truly."

He smiled, "And you are a wonderful woman, Gabrijela. I've never met someone so natural as you."

"Distract me today, Cillian." She whispered, a hand on his chest.

"I will try." He nodded, "Come, let me show you the third floor."

They got up and headed to the top.

She gasped, the whole floor was transformed into a mini library of some sort. The wall had shelves full of books, memorabilia of awards and all that. A fireplace took a spot between the bookshelves with some seriously comfy-looking couches.

"I've kept the majority of things from when I was younger, things from school or gifts and whatnot." He explained all the knick-knacks he had.

"Awesome." She was in absolute awe.

He had a guitar as well and a ukulele that hung on the wall. "You play the ukelele?" She asked as she came over and plucked it off the wall. She strung her fingers along it.

"Yeah. The main thing I bring when I go away." He watched how she became a whole new person. The pain in her eyes seemed to go away as she began to play a melody.

He was surprised, "You play?"

"I do. I know how to play the guitar and the cello, I'm an expert in both." She smiled.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Just for fun or...?" He sat down as he listened to her play.

"Been in a band since I was sixteen. I play the electric guitar and also sing with Elijah who plays the bass guitar, Karsyn does the drums and Maya is on the keys and her partner plays the extra guitar. Lucia never really liked it but always tried to be apart of it... We had to kick her out cause she caused too many headaches for all of us." She said, finishing off her melody. "Elijah and I play the cello together, he's probably the next close friend of mine."

"What kind of genre you play?" Cillian asked.

She put the instrument back where she found it, "Anything really, we like to do covers and we have some of our own songs. We play every Thursday, Friday and Saturday night at this club in Sydney, Maya and her husband owns it and its very popular." She walked along the bookshelves, running her fingers along the many novels.

"Wow. And you kept this all from me!" He smiled, "I have to definitely come to Sydney and see you play."

She giggled and picked up a phot of when he was younger, "Not because you want to see me?"

"That too. I was twenty there." He got up and peered over her shoulder.

"Wow. Look at this young man. You haven't aged at all. Are you immortal?" She smirked up at him.

"Some say I'm aging like fine wine." He chuckled and she put the photo back.

"Oh, I can so agree on that." She patted his cheek.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked.

"Go ahead." She turned to him once more.

"Your birthday is coming up, do you have any plans on that day?"

She raised a brow, surprised he remembered it, "Uh, I mean I did but... with what happened... No. I'm free all day."

"Good. I've got something you will love to see." He grinned.

"Can I know?" She crossed her arms.

"Nope. It's a secret." He said.

She whined, "Ugh fine. What are you doing for the next day? It's Christmas."

"Flying back to Cork to spend three days with my family." He said.

"Oh... Really?" She had hoped she could spend the day with him. She couldn't hide her sadness in her tone.

"I got two tickets." He said, eyes trained on her.

"And?" She tilted her head to the side, confused as to why he told her that.

"You're coming with me." He laughed at the shock on her face.

"Cillian! I couldn't! No!" She hit him lightly.

"Yeah, you are coming with me. I want to show you my hometown. It's going to be fun." He took her arms gently, his smile soft.

She pouted, "You sure? I... Your family... wouldn't they think it's weird that you're bringing someone like me to their table...?"

"No. Of course not. They will love you. I only told them I'm bringing someone wonderful." His arms moved around her waist and she stepped closer, her hands on his biceps.

She giggled, "Oh Cillian," She smiled, only he could make her forget about her problems. She felt so at home in his arms, "I see that record player. Put something on and we can dance."

"Yeah? Alright." He pulled away and set the player up and picked out a good record. He placed it down and the needle before he pulled her back close.

They swayed together, body to body. Rain fell harder but everything seemed so magical. Her head was resting on his shoulder and she could feel the tickle of his breath on her neck.

"Cillian?" She murmured.

"Hm?" His hand was splayed on her back, between her shoulder blades.

"Please don't leave me." She said in a soft, shaky voice.

He pulled back to look at her, "I won't. Never."

"Promise me?" She sounded desperate as she gripped his biceps again.

"I promise," He cupped her face, "I'll always be with you."

She searched his face and leaned up to kiss him, but he pulled back, "Gabrijela, don't you think its to quick?" He asked, eyes wide.

"It's just a kiss. Cillian, please. Distract me." She whispered.

"Gab, we shouldn't, we really shouldn't. It's way too early, you're hurting." He frowned.

"Fuck it Cillian. Fuck it all. I need you. I need you. You are all I think about. All I need. Logan was a mistake. That time you touched me, that was what brought me to my knees. I cannot hold back Cillian." She had tears in her eyes.

He was shocked at her words, and yet he felt the same. The moment he touched her, kissed her, she was all in his head nonstop. "My Gabrijela. My lovely Gabrijela." He leaned in and kissed her, pouring his heart into it.

His hands moved from her face to her hips, her arms locking around his neck.

She was the one to deepen it, their tongues clashing and rolling over each other. A moan escaped her, and he began to walk her to the couch.

"No," she stopped him, "The bed." She said.

"Okay." He nodded and they headed down a flight, she held his hand as they entered the bedroom.

She backed up to the bed as he stalked forward, a heated look made him look like a bad boy. She smirked, "Since you touched me last time, it's only fair I return that favour."

He gripped her hips, pulling it flush against his. She moaned at the feeling, "You don't need to. My pleasure is seeing you cum by my fingers." He kissed her hard and she yanked off his shirt.

He took off hers and lifted her up and threw her on the bed, she let out a gasp as he moved on top of her like a cat. He kissed down to her neck, sucking on a spot and leaving a mark.

"Mmm." She shut her eyes as he moved lower, his lips wrapped around her nipple and she whined. Her nipples were always so sensitive when they were touched.

He sucked, tugging on them gently with his teeth which caused another moan to escape her. He then moved to the other, doing it rougher and it made Gabrijela cry out in pleasure.

"I'm going to taste you, Gab." He said roughly, his lips moving down her stomach. The feeling made a skittering feeling run through her, her core heating and throbbing.

"Yes." She sighed, nodding as her pants were thrown aside. She had no panties on.

Cillian came to the apex of her thighs and pulled back a little, her treasure was glistening and a pretty pink. She had waxed, leaving a tuft at the top. With a hand, he brought up he dragged a finger down from the hood to her entrance.

"Oh... God..." She sucked in a breath, looking down at what he was doing. Her cheeks were flushed, he was just... staring at her. "Am I okay? Cillian?"

He brought the finger up, then with his thumb, he parted her folds to reveal the petals of her core. "You are more than okay, Gabrijela. You are... serene." And he brought his mouth on her.

She threw back her head, eyes rolling in the back of her head as he worked on her with that fantastic mouth of his. He sucked on her clit, rolling the bud between his lips and teeth. He felt her hand on the back of his head, the other gripped the sheets.

"Oh fuck, Cillian. Fuck." She breathed fast, her toes curling as the sensations of getting head ran through her nerves. It was a wonderful feeling, the soft moist feeling of his lips peeling her apart and getting deeper. His tongue sweeping up then back down to her entrance where it prodded her.

"Relax, lovely. Relax for me." His hand were on her abdomen, feeling the fast-rising of her stomach. She relaxed as best as she could, and tried to stay relaxed as his tongue pushed into her.

He wiggled it around, tongue fucking her as he brought a thumb to her clit. He wanted her to feel the utmost pleasure he could give her with his mouth and hands.

So he ate her out like his personal feast, not being kind to her either. He held her squirming hips down as he was in full control of the situation, he would make sure all she remembered was his name as she came. He would imprint himself on her body, her soul. But when he was to take her... he would make sure it was a perfect day, all dedicated to her.

She was in utter ecstasy, all she could think of was him, of what he was doing to her. He knew where to get to, what to press as two fingers slipped into her.

He pulled back to watch how he fingered her, to see how she took him. "Fucking hell, Gabrijela." He rasped, she was drenching his fingers, his chin was coated in her wetness. "You going to cum soon?" He could feel how her walls clenched around him. He could only imagine how amazing if he was buried in her.

"Yes, Cillian. Oh god yes. Don't stop." She whined, her breathing ragged and deep. Moans and curses fell from her parted lips, she was close. "Harder, oh fuck!"

Cillian obliged and began to finger her harder, pushing in a third finger. God, she was tight. But he wasn't going to stop, he curled his fingers in a come hither motion and she cried out when he found her sweet spot once more.

"Cillian! Ah! I'm close! Fuck!" She bucked her hips, trying her best not to move too much around.

He went as hard as he could, he would bring her to the edge before he would finish her off with his tongue. And so he would, pulling his fingers out and tongue fucked her. Her cried grew louder as she thrust her hips up and hollered in bliss as she climaxed on his tongue and lips. She thrust a few times before she eased off as her high came down.

He lapped her up, sucking and licking her clean before he kissed up her body then to her lips. She moaned sweetly as she tasted herself on his lips.

"Mmm Cilly," She pulled back, touching his jaw and his lips. "Lay back baby, I want to touch you now." She kissed him.

"You don't-" He groaned when her hand gripped him.

"I do. You are so hard." She pushed him back and he eased on to his back as she now knelt beside him. "Cillian, oh goodness." She tugged on the strings of his sweatpants and eased them off with his help. Boxers and all.

Her eyes fell on his hard length, he was a good size and thickness. She could easily just ride him right there, lube was not needed as she was soaking.

Slowly she looked up, meeting his eyes, "Perfect." She murmured, not taking her eyes off as she wrapped her hand around. A muscle twitched in his cheek as his jaw was clenched hard. "Mmm, you feel good." She moaned as she rubbed him, holding him in a good tight grip.

"Ah... Ah, shit..." He whispered, holding himself up by his arms. "Gab..."

She smiled, happy that she was making him all huffy and blushing. She rubbed him faster, he was rock hard. "I'm gonna take you in my mouth," She moved between his legs, laying down on her stomach. She leaned in and licked his balls, sucking them and he let out a strange groan that was deep then a curse followed.

"Minx." He shook his head, watching her move up his shaft, sucking and kissing to the tip that had a little diamond drop.

She licked it before his cock was guided into her mouth, and he watched with pure amazement as she took him right to the base. "Fuck!" He placed a hand on the back of her head, gripping her hair.

She moaned, muffled by his cock before she began to bob her head. She took her time, savouring his velvet hardness with her tongue and lips, soft gagging sounds came from her every time he touched the back of her throat.

She was a goddess, she worked him so well, her sucking was slow and hard, almost pulling. It felt divine.

Gabrijela began to go faster, her hand moved to cup his balls once more and fondle them. She squeezed them and rolled them a little in her palm, he grunted, "That's it, oh fuck yeah. Gab you damn perfect woman."

She smiled a little as she continued to do her thing, and it wasn't long when he became fidgety as his cock twitched. He was going to cum very soon.

"Mmmm." She moaned around him, squeezing him again.

"I'm gonna cum. Fuck, in your mouth?" She nodded, "God you fucking- Fuck! Ah! Ah!" His brows furrowed and he laid back, his hips bucked and she gagged as he shot his load into her mouth.

She pulled back a little, he filled her mouth and he pulled her head back as the remaining went on her face and his stomach.

She gasped for air and laughed once she swallowed his load, "Cillian! Oh!" She bit her bottom lip as she pumped him once he was finished.

He looked at her, his release on her cheeks and lips, "Shit, sorry. He laughed as he handed her a tissue.

"No need." She wiped his cum off with a finger and cleaned them up with a smack of her lips. "Delicious." She giggled and leaned in, claiming his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

He wrapped his arms around her as she laid on top of him, they kissed for a bit before she pulled back.

"Thank you," She murmured, her smile soft.

"What for?" He ran his fingers up her spine.

"For sticking with me and making me happy." She traced his jaw then his cheek and lips.

"I will do anything to make you smile again. It broke my heart to see you cry." He kissed her gently. "Don't cry ever again."

She scoffed lightly, "Don't break my heart then."

"I won't. Safe within my heart, tucked in warm." He kissed her nose as she laid her head down on his chest, her fingers running over the smooth skin of his biceps and shoulder.

"Safe." She whispered, her smile never fading.

"Safe." He repeated, his fingers gently running through her hair.

For the rest of the day, Cillian and Gabrijela spent their time indoors. They showered and shared another passionate kiss before they went to the living room downstairs to watch some classic Christmas movies. They ordered take away via UberEats and sat before the fire as they stuffed themselves with pizza and garlic bread and ice cream he had in the fridge.

They laughed from bad jokes and danced again, another movie before night fell. She was going to stay the night again, they got into bed and she had asked him to read her a favourite book of his to her.

He happily obliged, and read till she fell asleep. He set the book side and his glasses, turned off the light and pulled her into his chest. She slept peacefully, their legs tangled and he wasn't ever going to let her go.

Not this time he wasn't.

Whatever was blooming between them, it felt right. And he would work hard to keep her happy and content. He tried not to think about the whole age gap thing or that she was going to leave at the end of the month. He wouldn't.

He would cherish her, and see what the future would hold for them.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #fanfiction

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trashcanmarvelfan · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - A Benverly Post- IT: Chapter Two Fanfic

Summary: After everything is over, Ben finally asks Beverly about the bruises he noticed on her arm the night they arrived back in town.

Warnings: 2 uses of the F-bomb (if you've seen the movie you guys know Richie has a mouth like a sailor so that's not too bad, all things considering) and non-graphic allusions to spousal abuse. Bonus Reddie feels, although Eddie is still dead, guys.

Word Count: 2100-ish.

Author’s Note: I wish we would've gotten more sweet Benverly togetherness in Chapter Two, but that's what fanfic is for, right? Whipped this up, gave it a read-thru, and here you guys are. Enjoy.

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 (Coming soon).

Ben Hanscom stood in a small circle with his childhood friends inside the underground clubhouse he had built during the summer they had all met, the summer that had been both of one of the best & one of the worst summers of Ben's life-- although he hadn't known it at the time. He had met Bev, Bill, Richie, Mike, Stan, and Eddie, who along with Ben collectively formed the Losers Club. During that summer Ben had also battled an evil demonic clown, wrote the first-- and last-- love poem he had ever anonymously sent someone, and had his first kiss (well, sorta). Unfortunately for Ben the person with whom he shared his first kiss was, at the time, incapacitated due to said evil demonic clown, and the poem was incorrectly attributed to someone else.

The Losers had scattered after that summer. Bev had gone to live with relatives out of state, Eddie had been dragged off to a new town by his mom, and eventually the rest of the Losers moved off as well, forgetting about Derry, that summer… and each other.

All except for Mike. He had stayed, and when It had resurfaced 27 years later, he had gathered the Losers Club to fight It again, this time defeating It for good. However, defeating It had come with a price. This time, Stan hadn't made it back to Derry and Eddie hadn't made it to the end.

Ben glanced around the circle. Each of his fellow remaining Losers were, like him, puffy-eyed and tear-streaked. They had agreed to meet one last time on their way out of town -- Bill was heading back west with the new, 'happier' ending for the film that was being made out of one of his books. Mike had decided since It was really and truly gone that he was moving on to Florida. Richie was heading back to L.A. Beverly… Actually Ben didn't know exactly what Beverly's plans were. He knew she needed to go back to Chicago to 'wrap up some loose ends' but had no idea what her plans were beyond that.

It had taken 27 years, but Bev had finally figured out that Ben was the one who had written her the poem. Besides that underwater kiss at the Quarry though they hadn't discussed the poem or the fact that Ben had carried around the yearbook page that Beverly had signed in his wallet.

The Losers were currently holding an impromptu memorial service for Stan and Eddie before going their separate ways, and each had shared a memory about Stan and Eddie, respectively. Ben had gone first, then Mike, then Bill and Beverly, until finally it was Richie's turn as the last Loser to share. Ben listened with a chuckle as Richie reminisced about Stan's bar mitzvah, when Stan had basically told all of the adults in the congregation to go fuck themselves, and now he was about to say something about Eddie. Richie sniffled. "I have to tell you guys something."

The rest of the Losers waited patiently.

Richie took a deep breath. "I'm gay, and when we were kids I was in love with Eddie. I was head-over-heels in love with him, and I never got a chance to tell him before he moved away. Then we came back here and all my old feelings for him came rushing back like I was 13 again."

Ben placed a hand on Richie's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. He could relate--well, not the being gay part, but being in love with someone and not directly getting to tell them how he felt before it was too late. Fortunately for Ben, however, he had a second chance.

January embers

He quickly glanced over at Beverly, who was watching Richie speak with fresh tears in her eyes.

"He saved us," Richie continued. "Telling us about choking the leper and making it small… if it hadn't been for him then none of us would've made it out. But Eddie deserved to make it out too. He deserved to live..." He broke down into sobs.

Ben and Beverly both moved to wrap Richie in a hug as he cried, and Mike and Bill placed encouraging hands on his back.

When Richie seemed to have calmed down somewhat, Ben asked, "You ok, man?"

Richie nodded. "Eddie should've been here celebrating with the rest of us. I never got a chance to tell him how I felt before he died, but I figure if I at least tell our best friends, it'll make not getting to tell him hurt just a little bit less."

He sighed. "Life is short -- I missed my chance with Eddie, but don't you guys pass up the opportunity to tell the ones you love how you feel."

With one final sniffle he wiped his eyes. "I made all those jokes about banging Eddie's mom when we were kids when really all I wanted to do was bang Eddie," he joked.

Ben couldn't help but smile.

Bill's phone went off with an alert. "Shoot, guys. I hate to cut this short but Richie and I have a flight back to L.A. in an hour."

"I should probably get going too," Mike added.

Ben and the rest of the Losers gave them each a brief hug. "We'll stay in touch this time," Bill promised as he gave Beverly a hug, and Ben couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy before chastising himself. Bill is your friend, you ass. What he and Beverly had ended long ago. Besides, Bill is happily married. Beverly was married too, but from what Ben had gathered he suspected it wasn't too happily.

He watched as Bill and Mike climbed up the ladder to the surface, followed soon by Richie. As Richie's footsteps faded, Ben could hear Beverly say, "I think he knew."

He turned to her. "What?"

Beverly gestured toward the ladder. "Eddie. I think he knew how Richie felt about him, and I think he felt the same way about Richie." She sighed. "They would've been happy together."

Ben nodded. "Yeah, I could see it too between them. The way they would look at each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking." That hit a little too close to home, he thought.

He cleared his throat before changing the subject. "Hey, can I ask you about something? Something personal. And it's ok if you don't want to talk about it, but…" he trailed off.

Beverly nodded and took a seat on the bench that Ben had made their sophomore year of high school, after Beverly had left and Ben started getting more into architecture in order to keep his mind occupied. She patted the spot next to her.

Ben took a seat and was silent for a few moments while he collected his thoughts. How do I go about this?

Finally, he decided that the direct approach would probably be best. "When we got here… back to Derry, I mean… I noticed bruises on your arm at dinner. Then when you flinched away from me… Is everything ok, Bev?"

Beverly paled and wouldn't make eye contact with Ben, instead choosing to look at the floor. "Tom… my husband… he wasn't very happy that I was leaving so suddenly," she explained. "We-- we got into a fight, and he-- he--" she broke off.

Ben stiffened. "Was that the first time?"

"No," Beverly whispered, then started crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey," Ben said gently, slowly reaching for Bev and giving her plenty of time to back away. Instead of rejecting his offer of comfort, however, Beverly leaned into Ben's embrace, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as her body wracked with sobs. "There's absolutely no need to apologize for anything. None of anything that you have gone through is your fault, okay? None of it. Not the shit we went through with Pennywise, or anything your dad or your husband put you through. You hear me? None of it was your fault and you have every right to be upset." Ben stroked Bev's hair soothingly as he held her. "You're safe with me, Bev. You're safe. I swear on my life that as long as I am breathing no one will ever harm you again."

Beverly hiccuped. "Thank you," she whispered, tightening her hold on Ben. "Thank you." She sniffled and leaned back to look at him face-to-face.

When they were kids Ben had thought that Beverly was a beautiful girl; now he thought that she was a beautiful woman. He wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, letting his hands gently rest on her cheeks. "You deserve all the happiness in the world," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Beverly reached up to wrap her hands around Ben's. "I should have realized all those years ago that you were the one who wrote me the poem."

Ben tilted his head to the side. "How do you figure?"

Beverly smirked. "Bill's a great writer but he's no poet, Eddie and Richie were too busy arguing and making moony eyes at each other to be interested in anyone else, Stan probably either would've been too nervous to leave the note or would've 'fessed up almost immediately, and Mike was just trying to survive the summer-- I don't think he even thought of me as a girl at the time." She paused. "But you… you saw me, didn't you? You've always seen me. Your hair is winter fire," she recited. "January embers."

"My heart burns there too," Ben finished. "Still does. Always has in fact, although I didn't always quite remember why I was carrying around a yearbook page with only one signature on it."

Beverly smiled. "It's ok, New Kid," she said, then the next thing Ben knew Beverly was kissing him.

Their second (okay, technically third) kiss was even better than their first (okay, second). Considering the fact that Beverly was still in the Deadlights' thrall and wasn't even conscious for the first one as kids, Ben figured that shouldn't even count. Their first kiss as adults, shared under the dirty water of the quarry, paled in comparison to the feel of Beverly's lips on his own at that moment.

For a split second Ben thought maybe this was all another Pennywise-induced hallucination, then had the brief notion that maybe he had died in the battle and somehow made it to heaven instead of whatever hellscape Pennywise inhabited.

He realized it was neither when Beverly ran her fingers through his hair and gave it a slight tug, making him moan.

"Jesus, Bev," he muttered, pulling her into his lap and seeking permission to deepen the kiss.

Suddenly they heard a voice:

"It's about fuckin' time!"

They whipped their heads around to see Richie, Bill, and Mike, all watching them with shit-eating grins on their faces.

"What are you guys doing back here?" Ben asked as Bev giggled and buried her face in his neck.

Richie gestured to a now-blushing Bill. "Billy here forgot his wallet, so we came back down to get it. Didn't know we were gonna get a show as well."

"Beep beep, Richie," Bill said.

Richie ignored him. "So this is finally happening, huh? You two gonna ride off into the sunset together?"

Ben shrugged then looked at Bev, who was biting her kiss-swollen bottom lip to keep from laughing. "The man's got a point... What do you say? Come to Nebraska with me?"

Bev seemed to consider it for a few moments."I have a few things to take care of in Chicago first, so would you mind stopping off there on the way?"

"Bev, I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth and beyond if you asked me to," Ben said honestly.

Bev's answering smile made Ben fall just a little bit more in love with her.

"Okay, well, that's our exit," Bill, who had snuck over to the corner and retrieved his wallet from the table, said. "Come on, guys, let's leave them alone."

"Congratulations, you two," Mike said before heading back up the ladder.

"We'll see you guys again soon," Bill added before following.

"And remember," Richie yelled down as he disappeared out of sight, "practice safe sex!"

Ben shook his head fondly. "Richie is such an asshole."

"Yeah," Beverly agreed with a grin, "but he's our asshole."

"True." Ben bit his lip and slid his hands up Beverly's sides. "Now, were were we?"

Beverly smirked. "I believe about right here," she replied as she sought Ben's lips out once more.

#it: chapter 2 #it: chapter two #it: ch 2 #Post-film #benverly #ben x beverly #with a side of Reddie feels #tcmf writes

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exobyharu · 5 years

Text

PCY - Ch2

Chapter 2: Sometimes, it works that way

(Part 1)...(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)

Summary: Chanyeol vs the world and Chanyeol vs himself, featuring his well-planned attempts at damage-control. You don’t make it too easy for him.

⏰ 11:12 AM 🌏 Hotel (S), City of (L), but you transferred to the 38th floor now 🌤 Sunny, summer morning, and it’s almost as sunny as Chanyeol’s mood 👥 YN, Park Chanyeol, Kim Jongin (mentioned), Kim Junmyeon (mentioned), Chanyeol’s sister (mentioned)

Notes: This is part 2 of my PCY series. Hope some of you like it! He’s much nicer (to you) now, at least at the end (sort of). PCY may have dropped a couple of curse words here and there, but that’s all I have to warn you about. PCY says he’s sorry!

Words: ~1,900

💙💙💙

Chanyeol hated it, that his new composition was turned down yet again, by their over-qualified and impossible-to-please producers at SM Entertainment because, for probably the fourth time this month, it’s about time you stopped making your lack of experience show in your love songs, no matter how heartfelt you think your lyrics are.

He also hated it, that his sister borrowed his Mercedes Benz without permission, and only called to inform him that she had unintentionally defaced it once again by crashing it against a tree – and it’s even the same tree as last time.

Jongin also left a voice message earlier that evening to tell Chanyeol that he had misplaced the keys to the private studio. But it’s okay and there’s no need to panic because the interns and some staff members volunteered to help me look for it. Jongin apologised for always losing and breaking his senior’s belongings and promised that he won’t let anything like that happen again. Newsflash: Chanyeol hated his promises too.

When all of that happened in a span of three hours, along with Baekhyun’s persistent calling and mindless whining as the sweet cherry on top, it was only last night that Chanyeol finally discovered how things would blow up.

There’s a distinction between a bad mood and an ill temper, he would constantly remind himself. There is a limit to what behaviour is acceptable. Unfortunately for him, it seemed that he forgot to give himself the pep talk recently. This was why his adviser’s worst nightmare finally came true: Last night, on the balcony of this suite room, Chanyeol abandoned all caution, emptied himself of patience, and mindlessly acted on his frustrations as if the world owed him a proper outburst.

The rapper was weak on his knees when he remembered how he lost his shit and ended up taking it out on whom he thought was one of their group’s obsessive fans. What made it worse was that you apparently turned out to be an unsuspecting stranger who was not even up to anything remotely intrusive. Chanyeol was certain that whatever transpired from last night’s interaction with you was most probably typed out already, in some group chat or online page and it was only a matter of hours before his phone was ringing to a call from his enraged manager or worse, from Junmyeon, who always preferred to express his brotherly concern by packaging it as a mouthful of obscenities instead.

Much like last night, Chanyeol spent the early hours of the day, collapsed on the suite’s ridiculously oversized bed, pondering and unable to think of answers for his life’s profound existential questions.

How many ex-girlfriends did he need on his badge to write a love song that would pass SM’s extensive quality control? What kind of genius did Jongin have to be in his past life to be so remarkably scatter-brained now? Bench presses were bench presses. How was he going to teach Baekhyun how to cheat on his reps when he, himself, never did? Most importantly, why was his sister such a terrible driver?

The whole process was mostly a one-way conversation with the luxurious finish of his suite room’s coffered ceiling because much like the answers he could not produce for himself, he had to accept that some things in general were simply beyond his control.

He could try to cut down that stupid tree, though. The dumb task was two bumper repairs overdue.

With newfound resolve, he also made sure that he spent the next few hours after his morning shower rehearsing the, albeit extra kind, words that he would use when explaining to his manager, to Junmyeon, or even to the company’s CEO, if you had managed to blow the whole thing out of proportion. When he called for room service to have breakfast delivered, he even inquired about how to send a massive bouquet of flowers to the occupant of the suite room beside his, simply because fuck ups like last night were not allowed to be in Park Chanyeol’s record. Ever.

About a few minutes later, a delicious tray of espresso waffles and sides finally arrived at his doorstep, along with a message that the suite room right beside his had been emptied just last night. It was at this moment upon hearing the hotel staff’s message about the female occupant transferring to another room, that the rotting sensation at the center of his chest returned in an instant. He ended up not eating much of his breakfast and crushing his face against the silk on his pillow seemed to be the best course of action instead.

This is all your fault, so you fix, he thought incoherently, hoping that blaming himself again brought more clarity. He thought back to last night, trying to remember how much he had told you and if it were truly enough to rile you up, prompt you to file a report, and transfer to another room.

He could not even recall if he said a couple of bad words or not.

Pursing his lips as he walked the tightrope in between discouragement and desperation, it did not take long for him to decide to give it a go and call the front desk. Even though he was familiar with hotel policies, and even though it was another item on his endless list of things that he hated, not to mention too much against his principles, it looked like he was willing to overlook the misuse of his VIP status to have his way just this once. It was promising that his phone had not buzzed since he had woken up, but the fact remained that it was now, or later, when irreversible damage was done and Dispatch was already camping out at the hotel lobby downstairs.

So he did as he rehearsed, and it was almost nauseating how it took too little effort to get the details that he wanted. Something in his gut roiled when he had to emphasise his name as if his identity were a badge that can be used to proclaim himself qualified to make such a special request. Your full name, YN YLN, along with other personal details that he did not ask for, were disclosed to him without the need to impose or even lie.

Nevertheless, he got what he needed and Chanyeol hoped that it was worth the brief moment of shamelessness. Again, he comforted himself that damage-control in itself was a pain in the ass. And even though hating himself for resorting to this method was even more exhausting, it had to be done in order to move forward with his plans of setting things straight.

Press 0, and then after the beep, 3815.

He did not expect it, but it plunged his nerves into a state of panic when he started dialling your room number. Maybe he was afraid of you and what you had to say - more specifically, about how many of your friends already knew about last night’s exchange. Were you even going to speak to him? Did he even want to speak to you? The compromise was to put the phone down after five rings and send the damn flowers instead.

You answered exactly after four long rings. “Hello?”

“Yah!” he yelled, the couple of rehearsed lines he had prepared, instantly forgotten. “Why’d you move?!” His nerves pretty much took over and Chanyeol knew that he was not angry. It was beyond him if this distinction was not clear to you.

Still, your voice on the other end of the line remained impeccably calm. “Um, may I know who this is?”

“It’s Chanyeol.” In his years of performing in front of cameras and audiences, the rapper had never thought that introducing himself could elicit so much frustration.

You paused. “…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t remember last night?!” he yelled again. Immediately, the distant sound of his own voice made him cringe. It was an effort to ignore how it reverberated inside the room. He tried to clarify much more kindly now, but his attempt gloriously failed the moment he started. “It’s Chanyeol! Sexual Fantasies, Park Chanyeol!”

Your sigh that followed was a bit over-dramatic and it looked like he had done it again. “I know, okay?! I mean I know it’s you! You made last night pretty hard to forget, and I don’t mean it the way other girls in your head do. I was just unsure about apologising because you’re the one who explicitly told me to stay out of your way.” You were clearly getting worked up and it was too bad, because so was he.

“And you really thought I meant that?!”

“I still think that, seeing that you wouldn’t stop yelling at me! I only transferred to make the both of us happy, okay?”

“Do I sound happy to you?!” It was not a pleasant feeling to hear you sigh after every sentence because he realised that it was no longer just his reputation on the line. Chanyeol was not called the Happy Virus for nothing and he genuinely felt that he was putting down a lot of people by causing someone else’s distress. Ironically, this infuriated him even more. “You didn’t have to change your room and I’m not happy that you did!”

“Then that makes only me.” Your voice from the other end was dismissive and dripping with contempt. “Looks like your day will suck, Mr. Park, but please, let me enjoy mine.”

“Yah! Don’t put the phone down!”

“Seriously, Chanyeol, what do you want from me?!”

“Just stop hating!”

“I will if you leave me alone!”

“It doesn’t work that way!”

At this point, the conversation became all about talking over the other. It took a few more out of the both of you before Chanyeol realised what an idiot he had been for the past two minutes. Stress had really done a number on him lately.

Relax.

Catching his breath in the brief silence that ensued, he allowed his pride to crumble in the name of ending all this bullshit between the two of you. He was just tired, more than anything else. Releasing the tightness on his throat, he modulated his voice to suit the tone that he would effortlessly use when speaking to a fan – or his mother.

“Just… meet up with me, will you? There’s this café at the top floor.”

“No thanks. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“What stuff?”

“Stuff that’s none of your business, obviously.”

Your answer made him press a hand to his forehead. You mean stuff that’s non-existent, obviously, he thought with a roll of his eyes. What kind of idiot did you think he was? Though it did not look like much on paper, he decided that all the painful overthinking and planning had already gotten him this far and it was impossible for him to take no for an answer.

“Tonight then? I’ll be there by 7.”

“No, Chanyeol. I won’t be there.”

“That’s great! I’ll wait for you.”

And then he hung up the phone too soon, which was his underhanded way of making sure that you did not have the change to decline any further. What he did was almost rude, but Chanyeol promised to make up for his bad manners tonight instead. Even though he would not consider the conversation a step towards the redemption of his ruined first impression, if he got you to show up, he was sure to not waste his chance. Now, all he had to do was figure out what stunt he was going to pull off in order to make up for being a stupid shit last night.

💙💙💙 - to be continued -

#chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #park chanyeol scenarios #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

Text

See The Light: Chapter 1

A/N: My first ever series! Hopefully I can finish this before the end of the year.

***

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

yandere bts masterlist | main masterlist

[Edited]

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“Every breath you take, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you.” - Every Breath You Take [The Police]

“I got a new house!”

The message came in one day, where you were just lying around on the couch. It was your day off; something that you had long anticipated after weeks of endless meetings and a barrage of complaints. You had considered resigning a few times before, simply because the pressure was becoming harder for you to bear, but you reminded yourself that a new job might not have the same payment as your current one. You absolutely couldn’t risk losing this job – with such a high salary – and falling into poverty. The apartment rate had increased a few months ago, so it only served as a reminder that you couldn’t make a delicate decision that had the potential of ruining your future.

“Congrats!” you texted back. You were never a fan of long reply, and your friends often complained that you could be too curt for their liking. That, and because you rarely responded to messages. You couldn’t help it, though; you preferred meeting them in person rather than chatting.

A picture popped on the display one minute later, showing a basic two-story house amidst the plethora of verdant trees. There wasn’t anything remarkable from it, aside from a few graffiti that smeared the garage door, but nothing some splashes of paint couldn’t handle. Several holes from old age and termites adorned the door, but that was it.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” There was a moment of silence before your phone dinged again. “You wanna come over? Feel the fresh air and the like? God knows how you deserve a little break once in a while.”

You pursed your lips. While you had been planning to spend the rest of the weekend cooped up inside your house, there was nothing wrong from spending time with her either. Irene had been your best friend since middle school, and she was the one who introduced you to Kim Namjoon, your future employer. You could at least make an effort to indulge in her wishes; to repay her kindness for helping you through so many hardships.

After all, what harm could be done from a simple sleepover?

Shrugging, you agreed to her invitation and dropped your phone beside you after locking it. You huffed, staring at the ceiling as you contemplated whether you should spend the remainder of the day packing your clothes or procrastinate until there was no time left. Knowing that Irene could be scary when provoked, you quickly got up and headed to your room.

Better to do it now than later.

The next day, you were already prepared with everything and waited in the lobby of your apartment. Irene had promised you that she would pick you up last night. Normally, she was punctual, but it had been ten minutes and there was still no sign from her. Not even a text message. You decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and willed yourself to wait a little more despite the cram that crept up your legs.

A few minutes later, a shiny red car pulled up in the curb. The black window slowly slid down, revealing the woman you had been waiting for. Irene waved from inside the car, her other hand holding the steering wheel.

“Hey, sorry I took so long. There was crazy traffic back there,” she said.

With that sheepish and apologetic smile, you knew you couldn’t stay mad for too long. Still, it didn’t mean you wouldn’t let her off the hook just like that. And because you were feeling rather playful today.

“I waited for almost an hour, you know?” you grumbled as you put your luggage on the backseat. You called the shotgun and pulled the door shut a bit too harsh than intended.

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t even that long.” Irene kicked the accelerator and the car began to move forward. “By the way, how was work? Everything good?”

You groaned. “It was stressful. The clients kept complaining like, why couldn’t they just suck it up and appreciate our efforts?! God, this week was the worst.” You sighed, rubbing your temples to ease the growing stress and frustration.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But hey, look at the bright side! You’ll get to sleep in my new house now.”

“Yeah, I guess...”

Irene rubbed your arm comfortingly. “It's okay. Don’t let it get to you. I’m sure next week would be the best week.”

You hummed, half pessimistic and half optimistic at the thought. If there was one thing that you learned from being an adult, it was that you couldn't be too hopeful with the future because fate always found a way to screw it up somehow. No matter how hard you worked to prevent that, you were helpless against nature.

“I sure hope so.” you murmured.

The rest of the trip went in silence. Occasionally she stopped to fill the gas, and you used that chance to finish nature’s call and bought some snacks. Other than that, you didn’t make any attempt to talk and Irene was more than understanding with your situation. It was moments like this where you truly appreciated her; how she was able to predict your moods and feelings and never slip in some advice without your consent. Because you often wanted a willing ear to listen to your venting, not lecturing you like some kind of a naïve child.

Sometimes, you considered her as more like an older sister and not just a best friend due to her caring nature.

“Here we are.”

You jolted awake, flinching at the abrupt exposure of sunlight. Rubbing the crust from your eyes, you yawned and groggily climbed out. You blinked – once, twice – before gazing at the building in front of you. It looked just like in the picture she’d sent; ordinary and a bit more weatherworn.

“So,” Irene sidled up to you, crossing her arms proudly as if she were watching a showcase. “What do you think?”

You pondered your answer for a second before nodding in approval. “Yeah, it definitely looks prettier than in the photo.”

“I know, right?” She grinned, happy that you didn’t comment on the plain appearance despite her awareness of your little white lie. Your effort to be considerate to her feelings was much appreciated, though. “I just need to fix some things and this house will be the comfiest house in the whole country.”

You hummed as you went to unload your bags. She helped you carry them on to the second floor, where she told you that it would be your temporary room. You didn’t mind it, although you did think that it would be a hassle to have to go up and down the stairs every time you wanted to eat. At least, the room was in a slightly better condition.

“My room is here, okay?” Irene said, patting the first door near the entrance. “The kitchen is just down the hallway, adjoined with a bathroom. Your room already has its own bathroom, though. So you don’t need to go downstairs every time you want to take a bath.”

You nodded to let her know that you were listening. “Of course.”

“And this is...” You both went upstairs, where she pointed to a string that dangled on the ceiling. “Is the attic, obviously. I haven’t had the time to check it out yet. Feel free to do it. Who knows, you might find some undiscovered gems in there.” She winked playfully, much to your confusion.

“How much is this house anyway?” you asked after she finished the brief tour. There were too many rooms for you to memorize, thus you decided to stick to the main ones. It wasn’t as if you would venture deeper, with or without her permission.

“Oh, it was a little expensive than I thought it'd be.” She jutted out her bottom lip to express her displeasure towards the fact. “I mean, it’s kind of understandable. It is a big house, after all. Had I gotten it at a low price, I'd be suspicious. But I wished it was a bit cheaper, you know? Am I making sense now?”

“Well, at least you managed to buy it, right?” you murmured, patting her back. You didn't want her to regret her decision. This house might not be the prettiest in the city, but at least it seemed livable. That alone was enough for you. “For this kind of house, having an expensive price isn’t strange at all.”

“... I guess I should consider myself lucky for getting a discount in the first place.” Irene sighed, a yawn immediately escaped her mouth. “I’m tired. I’m gonna take a shower and hit the hay.”

You raised an incredulous brow. “It's still afternoon, though.”

“So? I’m tired and I need to sleep. You can eat the food if you’re hungry or watch the TV, just not too loud. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Watching her figure that disappeared down, you moved to enter your own room. It was rather spacious, with a King size bed pulled up near the window that overlooked the woods. Two nightstands adorned the bed, each has their respective lights. A cupboard stood near a door of what you assumed to be a bathroom, as told by Irene earlier, along with a few hangers attached beside it. There was also a study desk on the right side of the window, dust coated the surface.

You made a mental note to clean up the furniture to ease her work, and because you couldn’t stand dirtiness either. Your parents used to call you messy, while in reality you just didn’t bother to clear up something that would be messed again. Of course, it didn’t mean you liked dusty things.

But it could be done later. For now, you would spend your time relaxing and possibly binge watch some movies. Grabbing a towel from your bag, you slung it over your shoulders and walked towards the bathroom. You figured a nice, long and hot shower would go a long way to assuage the daily distress.

While you were busy doing your things, a pair of dark eyes watched you from the darkness.

#yandere bangtan sonyeondan #yandere bts #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere kim taehyung #yandere kim taehyung x reader #yandere kpop #yandere kpop au #yandere bts au #kpop yandere #yandere bts story #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #yandere v x reader #v x reader #yandere bts series #networkbangtan

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avidfanficwriter · 5 years

Text

Barbie (Chapter 11)

Chris Pine X Reader.

Summary: What started as a simple date ended as a failed romance. Or has it truly failed?

Warnings: Cursing, as per use.

Author’s note: Yes, i know, it’s been a long time. Writer's block hit me hard for this one but thank the gods, my mind sprung an idea!

Masterlist

Tags: @mitaputri0412 @wolflhards

A few years ago

“Why do you think you have these feelings?” The question appears as if you’ve entered a dream sequence or a really lousy drug experience that creates this inability to feel oneself. The room is spinning and your body is spinning at two different speeds, two different directions. It is entirely fucked. It’s a dissociative state, you’re there, your body is but your mind isn’t. You can see but you can’t figure out where you are. Fucked. “Y/N, are you there?”

The question acts as a fishing line, reeling you back to reality but still managing to leave you dangling from the hook on full display. “What?”

“This is the fourth time in the last hour, you’ve been inattentive.” The man says as he checks his watch, his name ceases to come back to you. He’s nameless, his identity hidden beneath the layers of time loss. “Have you taken your medication today?”

“I don’t need medication.” The first real sentence you’ve spoken today.

“From the comprehensive review of your file, I think it would be wise if you did.” You’re lost. Physically and mentally, you don’t know where you are, what you’re doing or why you’re sitting on this scratchy green couch. “Y/N, you’ve suffered a traumatic experience most of which the details are sketchy also the reason you seem to have suffered a mental breakdown. In order to properly help you overcome these issues, I need you to be present.”

Each word seems to hit harder than the last, pulling at your heart and only making it harder to concentrate. “Tell me about that night.”

The tick of the clock is beginning to create a headache, each noise seems to be heighten with the intent to create pain. “Nothing happened.”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath from the other body. “According to the report, you were brought to the emergency room with what resembled a case of domestic violence.” There’s a sound of shuffling paperwork before he speaks again, the voice is male. Definitely male. "The hospital staff noticed who they believed to be the person responsible enter the hospital and then barricaded himself in your hospital room, essentially holding you hostage."

You roll your eyes, it's unbelievable. It's completely false, as if someone was writing a book or playing a game of make-believe. "It sounds worse than it was." Not a denial but not the truth. It's got just enough to possibly satisfy him.

"Hmm... Which part has been an exaggeration? Being locked inside your hospital room with your abusive boyfriend who held a gun to your head or covered in bruises with your refusal to testify against him?" It's the kind of snarky comment that ends with a raised eyebrow and a satisfied look that says one thing: 'Ha, take that.'

"I have to go."

"You have been court ordered to attend a one-hour session that was productive, which you have not been. You are unable to leave until I am satisfied that we have had a conductive session." It's defeat. Complete and utter defeat. “Y/N, I know this is difficult and I don’t wish to make you stay here any longer than you need to be but you have to meet me halfway.” It sounds like a plea. He’s truly trying to work with you. "I know it doesn't seem like it but I'm trying to help you."

“It got out of hand." A partial truth. He doesn't respond. "Is there a such thing as craving the negativity?" The question changes the conversation but he's happy to oblige on the fact that you're finally speaking.

His brow arches as he begins tapping his pen on the cushion of the chair he's sitting in. "There are some people who feel comfortable in a negative environment, no matter how hectic or unsafe, there are those who seek it out. It’s familiar and to them all they know. Is that what you believe you do?"

You swallow hard, "No."

"Is Beau surrounded with negativity?" He ask, immediately making you regret you question.

"At times."

"Mmm... Was he surrounded with negativity when you were at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"If there is a negative aura that he emits, why are you so unwilling to rid yourself of him?" He questions and suddenly you have the urge to slap him. "I'm glad you're aware your in a negative situation but I want you to do something about it. Realizing the danger and hostility you’re in is only step one. Step two is doing something about it."

With every passing minute, you panic, you’re sitting in the living room with your eyes glued to the door. Waiting for him to return, he hasn’t called and it’s been an hour. He should have called by now. You tell yourself. What if he lied? If he just up and left? He could be the one getting rid of his apartment and leaving you instead.

Finally, you’re cell phone rings and his name lights up the screen, “Chris… you were supposed to call an hour ago.” You say quickly into the phone but you’re met with silence. “Chris? …Chris?”

You could have counted the hours before someone spoke and the first sound of someone breathing. “This is Dr. Luke Valdez at Good Samaritan Hospital, I found your number on Mr. Pine’s recent contacts list. There has been an accident.” Your heart stopped and now your body feels light, as if you’ll pass out any second. “Mr. Pine was in a car accident.”

You’re moving on auto-pilot, the pain in your foot is non-existent now as you gather your keys and phone before quickly heading out the door. By the time you make it to the hospital, your eyes are full of tears and your thinking the worst, he’s dead, but they can’t tell you that over the phone. He’s been killed. The fear doesn’t stop when you enter the hospital, the emergency room is full of tears, shouts of pain and panicked doctors shouting colors and ordering more test. It's chaotic and for a brief second you contemplate leaving.

“Can I help you?” A woman in a white coat asks, noticing the panic on your face.

“Ye--yeah, I’m looking for Chris--Christopher Pine. He was brought in a while ago.”

She nods, walking over to the desk and glancing at the computer. “Oh, he’s right here. I’ll take you.” Each step you take feel worse than the last, it’s like an anxiety attack is beginning. You feel your arms slowly getting cold, your extremely aware of your breathing and you can’t focus on one thing. The lines on the floor are to overpowering, the sounds are morphing into one loud sound and suddenly the pain your foot is back with a vengeance.

“He’s right here.” The woman says, pulling the privacy curtain back just enough to allow you entrance and closing.

“Jesus.” The harsh whisper pushes past your lips, involuntarily. Chris is sitting up in the bed, currently getting stitches in his head while a nurse wraps his right hand in a bandage.

“Oh god, I told--” Chris looks at the doctor besides him. “I told you not to call anyone.” he smiles. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? You’re covered in blood.” You say slowly walking towards the end of the bed, trying to reach out to touch only to change your mind.

“It’s looks worse than it is.” he lets out a small groan in pain as the nurse sets his hand down. “But you, you shouldn’t be standing or even walking, come sit down.”

The doctor finishes Chris’ head and explains his injuries and the medication he’s being prescribed for the pain.It’s doctor jumble and rather than listen all you can do is stare at Chris, he looks broken, worse than the night Beau got ahold of him. Covered in dried blood with pain in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask when the doctor leaves. He nods, sucking on his lower lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He chuckles. “Come here.” He holds out his uninjured arm for you to sit next to him seeking comfort that will help not only him but you as well.

There’s a slight feeling of fear that runs through your spine as you approach him, you sit next to him, trying to keep most of your weight away from him so he doesn't get hurt but he won't have it. Pain or no pain, he instantly pulls you into him, stifling a groan as he does.

Your eyes are tearing up and all you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. This was your fault, if you hadn’t of been stubborn and hurt your foot; Chris never would have been on the road, the car never would have hit him and he wouldn’t be here looking like he just survived a round with Mike Tyson.

“What happen?” You finally crack out.

“I was on the way to your place and this car in front of me lost control and hit me head on. I’m lucky I didn’t break my leg. Few stitches in my head, glass in my hand and busted face but I’m fine.”

“God, Chris...” You sigh.

“It’s fine.” He reaches his hands out, gently holding your face, forcing your swollen eyes to face him. “Relax, I’m fine, A little banged up. Just think about it this way, now it’s your turn to play doctor.”

There was no stopping the fit of laughter you both break out into. “What happened to the other driver?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He says, bringing his hands down and rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Poor guy is probably more upset about his car than anything.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Guy had a nice green challenger.” He remarked, shaking his head. “That now has regular black paint on it thanks to my car.”

You shake your head and scoff, “You could have died and you’re talking about a car.”

“It was a nice car.” As Chris lays his head on your shoulder, gently resting his eyes.

You don't know what comes over or why you brain decided this was your next comment. "So, I suppose this is a bad time to ask if you got my stuff?" Chris stifles a chuckle.

"No, the other car prevented me from achieving that goal." He responds in a low whisper, gently kissing your shoulder. "Just don't go to your place, okay? When I get out of here, I'll go. My card is in my wallet, whatever you need just buy it brand new."

There goes your independency, not only were you seeking refugee in his house but now he was giving his credit card to support you. You had jumped fifteen to twenty steps in terms of of your relationship, living together and financial responsibility. If it wasn't for the bruised man besides you, seeking your comfort, you'd probably be one step from freaking out. Too much was going on all at once but right now, it felt normal.

Just as your slumber starts to creep in, the startling realization hits you. 'Nice green Challenger.' A green Challenger hit Chris head on in the middle of the night, a green Challenger like the one Beau owned.

#chris pine #chris pine fanfiction #chris pine fanfic #chris pine fic #christopher pine #christopher whitelaw pine #pinenuts #star trek #star trek beyond #star trek into darkness #captain kirk #captain james tiberius kirk #captain james t. kirk #captain james kirk #steve trevor #wonder woman

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crossroadsimagine · 5 years

Text

✩⋆ Arranged: Pink Zinnia: Handa Chapter 1

☰ Special personalized story to celebrate 600 followers. This Route is personalized for the winner sutakonyan of This Event. Read the Intro if you haven’t already.

I was close to sunset when you arrived at the hot spring and you couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed about the entire situation, you weren’t fond of the idea of an arranged marriage and being forced into it only made you irritated. Though you tried to relax and stay calm but it just left you feeling kind of cold and sarcastic.

The woman coordinating the wedding stopped beside you as you stood outside in front of the building,

"Everything alright? " she asked, though she didn’t sound sympathetic or concerned, she was very much a business woman and strictly here to ensure the wedding took place and everything went according to plan.

“Does it matter?" you asked plainly, you knew you didn’t have any other options and you knew she didn’t really care how you felt about the marriage.

"No, now come with me." she advised gesturing for you to follow her and she led you inside the building and down one of the hallways, she stopped at one of the rooms and opened the door for you and gestured for you to go inside and you hesitated for a moment kind of glaring at her for a moment before stepping into the room.

It was a large rather plain Japanese style room, the same kind of room you would see at any nice Inn, you noticed a man sitting at the Kotatsu table with his arms crossed, he was dressed in nice yet casual clothes and had short messy black hair. He looked a bit annoyed but looked over at you as the coordinator stepped forward,

"Alright my name is Sondra." she said in a stern voice, "As you both know by now, I am coordinating this wedding, and it’s happening in only 3 days.” She explained "I will not tolerate any disruptions what so ever so don’t even think about trying anything." she said giving you both a stern look.

The gravity of the situation was really beginning to hit you hard; she was explaining the rules and what was expected from both of you. The two of you were not to leave the grounds and would be sleeping in separate rooms until after the wedding. There suddenly felt like there was a lot of pressure and it didn’t seem as though Sondra cared much at all about how either of you felt, but she was very much a business woman who only cared about the wedding taking place and everything went according to plan. She didn’t even bother to introduce the two of you and you were sure she didn’t even care if the two of you liked each other.

"Right that should be all for today." she explained, "I would highly suggest that the two of you use this time wisely." Sondra said sternly looking at the two of you before turning and walking out of the room leaving the two of you alone.

There was a brief moment of silence until your eyes met his, he let out a sigh and stood up to stand in front of you.

"Hi, I’m Handa." he said sounding a little nervous,

"Right, and I’m Athena.” you said introducing yourself with a slight nod.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just a bit annoyed.” he admitted glancing away and back at you.

“Yeah, so am I." you admitted, "I don’t think an arranged marriage is really the best thing." you confessed, you didn’t agree with arranged marriages in general but especially yours, you didn’t believe people could be forced to love each other. Not only that but you believed it took time to truly fall in love and three days was not enough time to really even decide if you liked each other.

"So, you don’t agree with it either?" he asked sounding a bit intrigued,

"Of course not, but it’s not like there’s a way out of it." you explained. Even though you didn’t agree with it you’d be facing disappointing your families if you fought the marriage. He looked frustrated again and it didn’t seem like he was as accepting of the situation the two of you were in.

"You’re right sorry,” he said seeming to relax a bit "I’m not mad at you I just don’t like the situation.” He admitted.

"It’s okay, I understand.” you said, after all you could easily understand how he felt.

"Come on.” he suggested gesturing for you to follow him as he opened the door,

"What? where are we going?" you questioned,

"Just outside.” he said plainly, you were a little suspicious that he could try something to escape the wedding just because of how much he seemed to dislike the idea of the marriage.

But you followed him down the ball and outside where he sat down on the edge of the porch, you sat down next to him, you were curious about getting to know him. The sun was setting which sent beautiful colors across the sky as it was slowly growing darker and darker.

“This is nice.” you admitted, where the Inn was located it had a very beautiful scenery and you certainly couldn’t complain about the view.

"So, what do you like?" he asked hesitating a little,

"Hm?” you mused a little surprised by his question.

"Well I figure we should get to know each other.” he explained sounding a little nervous to ever be asking. Which he was right the two of you should last to know each other if this marriage was going to happen.

The two of you talked about the things you liked, what you enjoyed doing and what he liked and did for a living, you were surprised to find out more about him and that the two of you actually had a bit in common, you were beginning to feel as though you could actually get along with him surprisingly well.

You weren’t expecting any of this in fact you were expecting the worst, so you were glad things were going better than what you expected.

"There the two of you are!" Sondra exclaimed standing behind the two of you,

"Come now, it’s getting late." she insisted, which it was dark now and the two of you must have gotten distracted talking and lost track of time. Handa stood up and helped you to your feet, you walked beside him as you followed Sondra back inside as she guided you to your rooms.

"Night.” you said glancing at Handa before heading into your room.

You had expected things to be a lot worse than they were, and you were glad because you had expected the absolute worst-case scenario. The fact that things weren’t as bad as you thought they would be, you didn’t know exactly how to feel about it all now though it really didn’t change the fact that you were still against an arranged marriage. You tried to push away all of your concerns and worries to get some sleep, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

■ Continue Reading

#Barakamon #Handa #Pink Zinnia #fanfic #fanfiction #story #600 followers celebration story #thank you #personalized story

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hymn2000 · 5 years

Text

Hope I’ve Got Something To Lose - MCU AU fanfic - C11

Story overview: Peter has an accident, and Tony makes a drastic decision. In the midst of everything, a face from the past reappears - but Peter isn’t too sure about reconnecting after everything that’s happened.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Part of my irondad and spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: injury, hospital stuff, hurt/comfort, mental health stuff, family stuff, corporal punishment

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 11 - Vicious, Suspicious

“Peter?” Loki said. “There’s someone here to see you”

Peter stayed where he lay on the sofa, but he opened his eyes. The Someone came into view. Someone with long, blonde, almost white hair, and cornflower blue eyes.

“Flo?!” Peter sat up quickly. ��What are you doing here?!”

Flo giggled. “Your father said you were feeling lonely and wondered if I’d like to come round for a bit - and I did, so here I am!”

She sat down beside him and hugged him tight.

“I’ll leave you to it” Loki said, and he did.

Flo looked at Peter. "Are you ok? You’re crying!”

“I just didn’t realise how much I missed you!”

Flo took his face in her hands and kissed him. Peter was all too happy to kiss her back.

“You’re so sweet” Flo said in between kisses. “I’m so glad you’re healing well. I was so worried when I heard about the accident”

“I’m fine”

“Good” She kissed him again, harder this time. “I love you”

“I love you too”

As Peter lay in bed with Flo’s arms round him, suddenly everything felt a little less heavy.

“I wish you weren’t so sad all the time. You’ve been sad since the day we met”

“Sometimes I’m not quite so sad... But it’s so hard to stop being sad. Something just comes along and pushes you into a pit and you can’t get out of it. It’s so hard to feel ok again”

“I wish I knew what it was like”

“Don’t be silly: no you don’t”

“Yes I do” Flo insisted. “Because then I’d be better able to help you”

Peter sighed and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against her shoulder. Flo stroked his hair gently.

“Can I ask you something? Or rather, mention something?”

“Sure...”

“When it’s just you and me together, you don’t use the whiteboard”

Peter was quiet for a moment, thinking. She was right.

“I didn’t really notice... I must feel... safe. With you, I mean”

“I was reading about your condition recently. I think people think it’s a choice, because they can’t understand it. But it’s not a choice, is it?”

“No... It’s like, you physically can’t speak. It’s really hard to describe. Dad thinks I’ll never speak at school, but other dad says I just need the right therapy”

“What do you think?”

Peter thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind never speaking at school. I don’t mind the white board and all that stuff. People are used to me now anyway. If they weren’t, maybe I’d mind. I don’t know. I don’t think speaking is all that important. Not where school is concerned”

He moved back a little, looking at her. She looked back, looking into his eyes.

“You know I’m always just on the other end of the phone if you need me”

“I know”

“Oh dear” Tony said, pulling Peter close for a cuddle. “I don’t think that visit had the desired effect”

Peter just held onto him and cried.

“He’s just sad she had to go” Loki said, coming over and hugging them both. “Poor little thing”

“What are we gonna do with you, eh?” Tony sighed.

Loki gave Tony a squeeze. “Don’t look so worried. He’ll be alright in a minute”

“What do you want to do now, Peter?” Loki asked once the boy had stopped crying.

“... I want to go to the library”

Ms Abbott, Peter’s old librarian friend, was delighted to see him again after so long. She made a big fuss of him, pinching his cheeks and tickling him under the chin, asking him how he was and what he’d been doing and saying how pleased she was to see him.

She eventually had to let him go to assist someone at the desk. Peter gave her a last hug and wandered off to find something to read. He spent a long time circling the shelves, not quite sure what he fancied.

He jumped violently when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and spun round.

“Liz! You’ve gotta stop making me jump like that”

“Sorry” Liz smiled. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“I think I’m the one who should be surprised - and I am!” Peter said. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to get away for a bit. What are you doing here? I thought you were still grounded”

“Oh. Yeah, not anymore. They weren’t happy about the other night even so”

“I could tell! You were pretty brief in your texts. Did you get into lots of trouble?”

“Um” Peter paused for a moment. “Well, it could’ve been worse. But hey, that was probably the best of those parties I’ve been to, so it was worth it whatever”

“Really? I’m still certain that old house is haunted! It’s probably one of the worst events I’ve ever been to!”

“You should swap places with me for a bit. Honestly, some of the things I get dragged to are truly dreadful. You wouldn’t even believe how boring they are”

Liz giggled. “You’ve gotten so funny, you know”

Peter looked at her for a moment. “Do you wanna go upstairs? We’re more free to talk up in the cafe”

At the back of his mind, Peter couldn’t help but be surprised at just how well he and Liz were getting on. It was like they were best friends. The party had been a laugh, but they’d been scared stiff for a good portion of the night, and they hadn’t spent that much time catching up, because Ali and Evangeline had been with them the majority of the time. Maybe the events of that night had lead to a kind of solidarity - an understanding through mutual experience. Now it was just the two of them together (not counting an old couple at the far table in the cafe and the person behind the counter).

“I don’t want to sound insensitive, but can I ask you something? About that web page?”

“Oh” Peter put his mug down. “Sure”

“Why can you talk to me, but not Alison?”

“Oh... I don’t know. I spoke a little bit when I first looked round St Hendricks, but I’ve never spoken there since I’ve been going to the school. Well, uh, y’know I mentioned Loki went away? Well, he came to pick me up when he got back, and I shouted his name, but that’s it. I can’t speak in school. So maybe it’s because that’s where I met her”

“But those girls you’re close to, you have them round to yours sometimes, don’t you? Do you speak then?”

Peter nodded slowly. “I still use the white board and stuff with Macy and Millie outside of school a bit, though. But not when it’s just me and Flo”

“But why?”

Peter shrugged. “I wish I had an answer for you. I really don’t know. I’ve had people tell me I’m just being rude when I don’t speak to them, but it’s not like I choose to: I just physically can’t”

“So what determines if you can speak to people? Is it a trust thing?”

“It can’t be, because I trust Malaki, but I can’t speak to him. And sometimes I can talk to people dad introduces me to with no problem, but other times I can’t. I don’t really understand it. I’ve talked about it a bit with that therapist I see- oh. Oh, that’s a thing, I’ve always been able to talk to her, even though I see her at school”

“It’s such a weird condition” Liz said, and then quickly added: “No offence!”

“None taken” Peter picked up his mug again. “I don’t understand it, and no one else seems to either. Dad said it’s different in my case, because it presents differently when it’s a PTSD thing... It was never anywhere near being the biggest problem I had after May died, so I suppose they thought they’d leave treating it till later, and it got a bit mixed up. I don’t know. It’s just a theory”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Liz asked. “I mean, don’t you get upset about it sometimes?”

Peter smiled slightly. “You know, I was having a similar conversation this morning with Flo” he shook his head. “I don’t really care when it comes to school. I think, if I couldn’t talk to my dads and uncle Thor, then I’d be really upset about it, but I can, so I’m not. I think it annoys dad a lot more than it annoys me. He can get really funny about it sometimes”

“What, Loki, or..?”

Peter shook his head. “No, other dad. Daddy Loki is really good about it. I think he understands better. But dad... I don’t think he understands quite so well. And I think it embarrasses him a bit”

“Does he say that?”

“Not exactly” Peter said, shifting uncomfortably. “He just gets funny about it sometimes. Usually at those stupid parties. He’ll like, I don’t know, ask me if I’ve got anything to say while he’s introducing someone, and like, try to pressure me into speaking, and telling them I’m just shy, which just makes it even worse. And then he gets cross with me”

“Surely he’s read about it though?”

“Probably? I don’t know”

“It’s not fair for him to get cross with you. Do you get into trouble for it?”

“... Rarely. Once this guy that I met ages ago, before the accident, he came over during one of those parties and he got a bit offended because I couldn’t speak, and dad got cross and he kinda took me out to the corridor and told me I was just trying my luck. He kinda grabbed hold of my face and told me to stop being stupid and to just use my words. Only daddy Loki saw all of this and then they got into an argument and I ended up being rescued by Pepper. She shut them up, but dad had already lost anyway”

Peter saw the look on Liz’s face.

“Oh no, you must think he’s a monster. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve told you that” he said nervously.

“No, no, I don’t!” Liz insisted. “I suppose it’s just funny when you hear about celebrities acting like... real people”

“Yeah... he’s not perfect, but he does his best. He’s a lot better than he was about the whole mute thing. That story was like, quite a while ago. He doesn’t tease me about it any more, but I think he just tries to avoid talking about it altogether. Kinda leaves it to other people”

“Oh, doctors?”

“Not exactly. I’m not seeing anyone about it. My social worker says we should think about seeing a speech and language therapist, but it keeps getting forgotten about, cos they’re both so busy, and priorities change and stuff, and I don’t really do a good job of reminding them either”

“Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” she was quiet for a moment or two. “I wonder how they manage it all. Even one look at the papers shows how busy Tony is, and I know Loki does stuff too”

“You’re not the first person to have doubts” Peter said, kindly enough. “They try to hide the tabloids from me, but I’ve still seen some articles questioning if they’re fit parents and all that rubbish”

“Does it upset you?”

“Yeah, cos it’s all bollocks. It’s always those papers that just take names and an out of context photo and make up all sorts of stories. If they use a photo of me, dad threatens to sue and it gets pulled pretty quickly, but I’ve seen a lot of the surviving ones”

“Wow.. I don’t really keep up with celebrity gossip. What kind of stuff do they write?”

“Oh, just rubbish, mainly. There was one ages ago, way before the accident, where they got a picture that looked like dad was kinda manhandling me, and I had a black eye, but that was from something that happened a couple of days before, and he was grabbing my arm because I nearly walked out in front of a motorbike, and so I looked kinda shocked. And so this headline went out online, and it was something like: ‘Tony Stark Abusing Apprentice!’, and it was just pure slander. I thought it was kind of funny, but dad didn’t, and Loki picked up the phone that time, and it got taken down within the hour”

“That’s incredible. The paparazzi really are scum, aren’t they? Has he ever actually sued anyone, or are the threats enough?”

“Usually the threats are enough. He's sued a few though. There was one, back when daddy was in hospital. Some reporter had snuck through and even though he didn’t get to him, he got a photo of other dad hugging the nurse, which they used for an affair story, and another one of him and me where we were both crying, and, oh my god, I’ve never seen him so angry before or since when those were published. The paper didn’t respond to the threat, so he passed it on to his legal team and sued them”

“Like I said, scum. There’s so many things you could sue them for there. It’s disgusting, it really is”

“I know right? I never really thought about the papers much before I knew the Stark’s, but now they never cease to amaze me, some of the things they do” he shook his head, and had a drink to try to calm himself down. “You know, recently - fairly recently, anyway - they got a picture of dad at the hospital. He was wearing scrubs, yknow, and he was like, sat against the wall in an operating theatre kinda thing, and he was kinda covered in blood, yknow, and he was kinda covering his face with one arm, and holding this tiny baby in the other arm, and some of the things they said about him! They tried to turn him into a criminal, and used it towards another one of those Unfit Parent articles”

“What had happened?? Was he hurt?”

“Not physically. I can’t remember the full story, but it was some kind of traumatic labour. I think the mother nearly died. I don’t know, all that labour and pregnancy stuff gives me the shudders. But like, that got published in a magazine, the photo and this bollocks article, and it was horrible. Daddy cried when he saw it, and then other dad cried too, cos he can’t stand daddy crying, and then I cried cos it was all scary and horrible, and then-... well, they got sued anyway. Dad helped the babies family, yknow, the one in the photo? He helped them sue as well, so that magazine had no chance”

“It’s incredible what people will do just to make a quick buck” Liz said dumbly, unsure what else to say. “I don’t even know how to react... How did they get the photo?”

“They think one of the locums that day sold the photo, but I don’t think they ever found out...”

They both went quiet, finishing their drinks. Peter then cleared his throat and sat up straight.

“Sorry, that got really heavy just then. We could talk about something else? Or...”

“Or what?” Liz asked.

Peter looked at her. “Do you wanna meet a celebrity?”

Peter started feeling a little funny as they got nearer the house, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Peter? Are you ok?”

“Hm? Oh... I guess I just feel a little nervous. Uhh... I guess I’m just kinda nervous about what you’ll make of them”

Liz took hold of his hand. “Your dad’s are celebrities. Everyone loves Tony Stark - me included! Don’t be so nervous”

Peter squeezed her hand gratefully. “Thanks”

The house was quiet when they came in the front door. Liz tore her eyes away from the chandelier in the foyer.

“Should I take my shoes off?” she asked.

“You can keep them on, it’s fine”

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?”

“They probably won’t even notice” Peter said. “Um, I’m not really sure where they are...”

“Well, your house is amazing. I don’t really know what I expected”

“It’s pretty cool, I guess. I’m kinda used to it now. Let’s go upstairs, get a drink or something”

“Ok. Peter, are you parents actually here?”

“I think so” Peter said. “At least, they didn’t tell me otherwise. We’ll see if we can find them”

They went upstairs to the kitchen, and found Loki putting the kettle on.

“Hey dad!”

Loki spun round. “Hello sweetheart”

Peter bounded up to him and Loki gave him a big hug and kissed him hard on the cheek.

“Who’s your friend?”

Peter stepped back, looking over his shoulder.

“This is Liz”

“Hello” Loki said. “You’re one of the ghost-busters from that party, aren’t you?”

Liz couldn’t help feeling a bit embarrassed. “Hi...”

“Don’t look so nervous: I don’t bite. Usually” Loki said, turning back to the kettle. “Are you after a drink?”

“We were just gonna get something cold” Peter said, opening the fridge and grabbing a couple of bottles of pop.

“Go and put your coat down” Loki said. “And take your shoes off”

Liz couldn’t help giggling when they went off to Peter’s room to put their coats and shoes down.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t mind!”

“They never usually say anything” Peter sighed, chucking his coat down on the bed and kicking his shoes off.

“Maybe he’s trying to keep up appearances or something” Liz said.

“Maybe. It’s more likely that he said it to wind me up. How about we go and wind him up?”

“Is that wise?”

“Hey, he’s my dad: I know the boundaries”

“Well, if you’re sure! I’ve never had the chance to talk to a god before!”

Loki was settled quite happily in an armchair with his book and a cup of tea when Peter and Liz appeared. He glanced up at them.

“Hello”

“Hey dad”

Peter went and climbed onto his lap.

“Watch my tea, numpty!”

“What are you reading?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in”

Loki paused, and then closed his book and set it aside. He gave Peter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Some space would be nice, chick”

Peter slipped off his lap and went and flopped on the sofa opposite the armchair. Liz joined him.

“How can I help you?”

“Where’s dad?”

“Down in the lab, and don’t you go disturbing him” Loki said firmly. “He’s working”

“Ok, we’ll stay here” Peter said.

Loki couldn’t help smiling at him. “Sure thing, kiddo. So, Liz. I gather that party wasn’t the first time you met. How do you two know each other?”

“We went to Midtown together, but I moved away. We didn’t stay in touch”

“It was before I’d even met you, dad” Peter said in response to the look he gave him. “We bumped into each other that day we went high street shopping”

“Oh, I see” Loki said. “You saw each other again at that party. Did you lie to me today, then?”

“No! No, I did go to the library. We bumped into each other there” Peter said. “And then we had something to eat, and then we came back here. We’ve been talking”

“Oh, I see”

“We talked about you a bit, actually” Liz said hesitantly. “About your volunteering and things like that”

“Oh, point of interest, am I?” Loki said, but he smiled. “You have some questions; I can tell”

Liz looked at Peter.

“He won’t get cross” Peter said.

“Now that I’m here, I don’t really know what to ask” Liz said awkwardly. “There’s so many things I could ask about”

“Fire away” Loki said, stirring his tea. “I’ll answer most things”

Liz thought for a moment. “I know you volunteer at the hospital. Do you do it a lot?”

“Much more now than I used to. I took a break for a while, the year I first met Peter. Health stuff. But I’ve been much more into it lately, bar a few blips”

“Blips?”

Loki nodded. “Yes, I had a few hiatuses, shall we say. While I was in hospital and then recovering afterwards, obviously I wasn’t there. I went away for a while doing things abroad not all that long ago too, so I wasn’t there. And of course I’ve had breaks for other reasons, like getting married, and looking after Peter”

“I don’t need looking after”

“You most certainly do” Loki said. “Don’t let him fool you, Liz: he’s not so strong as he likes to make out”

Peter rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t listen to him, Liz: he just likes to baby me”

Liz just smiled. “Well, I suppose he’s had plenty of practice, considering the volunteering. So, Mr Stark, was the work abroad with babies too?”

“A little bit, yes” Loki said. “My longest placement was older children mostly, although there were a few tiny ones there. I’ve definitely had plenty of practice and experience just from that little placement. It felt like much longer than it actually was”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I did have a thought earlier, after Peter told me about a photo of you from the hospital that ended up in the papers”

“Ah” Loki stopped, lowering his mug. “I know which one you mean. The theatre one?”

Liz nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to sound rude or like I’m doubting you, but I did wonder, how you’re allowed to do all of the gritty stuff”

“I do a lot more now than I did right at the start, and I’ve learnt a lot and I’ve come a long way since then”

“But how did you get into it?”

“Tony helped” Loki nodded. “At the start. And then I built my own little reputation after a while. It’s been a long road”

“But you go into theatre?”

“Yes, I do sometimes, and I do some clinical things. I’m a pair of helping hands more than an actual member of staff, although it’s a bit of a hazy area”

“I can understand some of the volunteering things” Liz said. “But why are you allowed to do clinical?

“I’m not just some random off the street” Loki said, smiling. “I may not technically be practising - as in, I’m not on the payroll - but I am qualified as a nurse”

“What, since when?!” Peter exclaimed before Liz had a chance to respond.

“Inside voices, please” Loki laughed. “I qualified ages ago, and I’ve got some other bits and bobs knocking about, qualification wise”

“How did I not know this?!”

“Because you’re about as observant as a teaspoon?” Loki suggested, and shook his head. “I suppose it’s never been relevant to you”

“This is wild” Peter said. “But also kinda cool”

“Thank you? Be quiet, chick” Loki said. “I volunteer, as you know. I spend much more time talking to people than sticking needles into them anyway”

“Your face, Peter!” Liz giggled. “You looked so shocked”

“I’m just surprised!” Peter insisted. “I never really thought about it properly: dad and the hospital have just been a fact of life”

“Definitely as observant as a teaspoon” A voice sounded from the doorway.

They all looked round, and Peter grinned, jumping up.

“Dad!”

Tony gathered him up into his arms.

“Ooh, you’re so squeezable” Tony said, squeezing him tight. He looked over at Liz. “Ah, I recognise you. You were causing trouble at that party, weren’t you?”

“Dad!”

“I’m just teasing” Tony smiled. “It’s Liz, right?”

Liz nodded. “It’s good to meet you, sir”

“Tony’s fine” Tony said, releasing Peter. “Oh dear, I seem to have got motor oil on you. Never mind”

“Worse things have happened at sea” Peter said, sitting back down beside Liz. “Should I have texted you first?”

“Hm? No, no, you’re fine, both of you” he went and sat down on the arm of Loki’s chair. “Are you being interviewed?”

“We’ve just found out little Peter Rabbit over there didn’t know I had qualifications”

“Yes, I caught that bit” Tony said, kissing Loki on the temple. “Doing a project, are you, kids?”

“We were just makin’ conversation” Peter said. “You know”

“I know. Why don’t you go and hang out in your room for a bit or something?” Tony suggested. “Daddy and I have got some things to discuss”

“That sounds ominous” Peter said, raising an eyebrow. “Is it anything I need to worry about?”

“No; it’s just grown-up stuff. Go play”

Peter looked at Liz.

“We should do as we’re told”

Liz took the opportunity to have a proper look at Peter’s room. Peter was just glad he’d tidied his room recently.

“This elephant is... huge”

“I know right. The price tag was as well!”

Peter went and stood next to her, touching the elephants head gently.

“I didn’t know you liked elephants so much”

“Well. They’re not my favourite. I never really thought about them much. It was a present”

“Oh. Who from?”

“Daddy Loki” Peter answered. “It was when he got back, after he’d been away, he got it for me. He said elephants never forget so I can tell it all my problems when I’m sad”

“Oh, that’s cute” Liz said. “Do you... do you do it?”

“Sometimes” Peter admitted. “It’s kinda comforting. He’s kinda nice to have around when I’m feeling lonely”

Liz squeezed his hand. “Does he have a name?”

“No. People have suggested things, but he’s just always stayed as Elephant”

“I didn’t expect you to have cuddly toys, really”

“Well, the elephant’s more of an ornament”

“Yes, but I mean the other toys too” Liz said, going over to the bed and picking up his old seal. “It’s quite endearing”

“You just think I’m a baby” Peter said, sitting down on the bed.

“I didn’t say that!”

“You thought it though”

“I didn’t!”

“I don’t mind even if you did” Peter said. “I am a baby. But if you take a walk round the house you’ll see I’m not the only one with cuddly toys”

“I’ve still got a teddy as well. My grandma has too. You’re never too old for them” Liz said, feeling like she may have inadvertently upset Peter. “... I don’t think you’re a baby”

Peter lay back against the pillows. Liz paused, and then lay down beside him, the seal still in her hands.

“Have they all got stories behind them?”

“Most of the ones in here do. Not so much for the ones in the rest of the house: they tend to just be things my parents saw and liked”

“Can you tell me?”

Peter thought for a moment. “Well, you know the elephant. That penguin and bear over there were presents from my friends, and so was this kangaroo... I first met daddy Loki because I was spending the summer here while my aunt was away, and anyway, we went to England on holiday for a few weeks. Daddy Loki bought me the Peter Rabbit, and he still calls me that sometimes. Anyway, on that same holiday we went on this boat trip where we saw seals, and I asked for a pet seal. So dad bought me that seal”

“Cute! It’s so funny to think you’ve got an entire life with them. You know, it’s such a funny thought: I’m in a celebrities house!”

Peter couldn’t help but giggle too. “I forget all the time! Even that first summer, I used to forget. We became a family so quickly that summer, and then after that summer, daddy Loki got to know my aunt too, and then all four of us became a proper family. It was... It was really good”

Liz looked at him. “You must really miss her”

“I do, but it’s getting easier. It’s been more than a year now, and it feels more like five”

“So, if the Stark’s were close to her as well, did that make grieving easier?”

“Well, no. But it was reassuring knowing that they knew exactly what I’d lost. It was horrible, but I suppose there was a kind of solidarity, because all of us were mourning... I always have someone to go to if I want to talk about her and share memories, though. That’s kinda nice... Why are you so interested in all of this?”

“I don’t know” Liz shrugged, and turned onto her side. “Morbid curiosity, perhaps?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah, I get that. You should’ve heard some of the things I asked when I first met Loki!”

“I’m sure I can imagine... Peter?”

“Hm?” Peter looked at her, and turned onto his side to face her. “Are you ok? You look sad”

“When I go back home, can we stay in touch? I know I live on the other side of the country now, but... We can still be friends long-distance, can’t we?”

“Sure... I mean if we put the effort in, we can. You’ve got my number now, and there’s always Skype and stuff like that... You don’t want to go back, do you?”

“Not really” Liz admitted. “I’ve got friends and a life in Oregon now, but it’s been kinda nice being back here. Seeing all the places I used to hang out and seeing some old friends... I’ve liked getting to know you as well”

“I’ve liked it too. If we don’t count that party, and if we don’t count this morning, you’re the only friendly face I’ve seen since I last got out of hospital. Even if it’s just been a few times”

Liz found Peter’s hand and held it. “I’m gonna be here for a while yet. Since you’re not grounded anymore, we could keep meeting up? There’s a whole load of places we can go, and that big fair is coming next week”

“That’d be cool” Peter said. “I’m free a lot at the moment, so you can message me any time”

“...You’ll really stay in touch when I go back home, won’t you?”

“Sure. You’ll have to leave me your address, and then we can write to each other. We could do those penpal letters you see on Instagram with all the clippings and pressed flowers and little badges from farmers markets and stuff”

Liz smiled. “I’d like that”

“Me too... It’s kinda nice talking to someone who knew me before I was here full time. You know?”

“I know... You and Ned, you’re not friends anymore? He acted a bit funny when I asked for your number”

“I’m surprised he still had it” Peter sighed. “He stayed in touch for quite a while after the accident. I didn’t reply very often but I liked hearing from him. Eventually I asked to meet up, and we did, and I thought it’d be fine, but it wasn’t. I was really upset about it for a while. He left really quite quickly, and he didn’t message me after that”

“That’s rough. Do you still think about it?”

“Not so much now” Peter said. “I really minded at first, but I had other things to focus on. I’m not upset about it anymore. I’ve got other friends, and I’ve still got some good memories of stuff me and Ned did. It’s not that important that he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore”

Liz lifted a hand and stroked Peter’s cheek gently.

“Midtown feels like a different lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“Definitely” Peter said. “Daddy always used to say people live so many different lives within their lives, and it’s easy to get disconnected from the past ones. I always believed him but I didn’t always know what it was like”

“People change so often too”

They were interrupted by the sound of the front door bell. Peter sat up.

“Peter, can you get the door?” Tony called from down the corridor.

Peter looked at Liz. “I’d better get that”

Liz went downstairs with Peter. Peter opened the door, and blinked in surprise.

“Flo?! What are you doing here?”

“You’ll give me deja vu!” Flo giggled. “Well, I felt bad about having to leave so prematurely earlier, and I thought I’d pop round again. And a brought you these!”

She produced a huge box of Lindt chocolates.

“Oh wow, thank you!” Peter said. “Hey, uh, you should come in: it’s kinda cold”

Flo did as she was asked, and Peter pushed the door closed. Flo spotted Liz, who was stood close by, watching her.

“You’re beautiful!” Liz said, looking at her lovely long hair and gentle features and cute little lace dress.

Flo blushed and giggled. “Aw, thank you! You’re very pretty too!”

Peter smiled at them, glad to see they’d hit it off on the right foot.

“Um, Liz, this is Flo. Flo, this is Liz”

“Hi Liz. I didn’t know you were here, otherwise I would have phoned ahead. I hope I’m not intruding”

“No, of course not! Uhh, Peter’s told me a bit about you”

“Oh! Well-”

They stopped as Loki appeared.

“Flo, darling, you shouldn’t have” he said, taking the box of chocolates from her.

“Hey! Dad!” Peter protested indignantly.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked: you know I’m only teasing” Loki said, bopping him on the head with the box and setting it down on the bureau behind them. “Flo, is that Snoopy on your necklace?”

“Hm? Oh yes, it’s new!” Flo said, stepping closer to him so he could see better.

Loki took the charm in his hand, admiring it. “My, how lovely. I definitely approve. I’m almost tempted to buy one for myself”

“I can give you the website” Flo said.

Liz watched them, unsure what to think. Loki gave Flo a quick hug.

“You’ll have to excuse me: I’ve got something to find” he said, and disappeared through a door on the other side of the foyer.

“Flo fancies him” Peter said once he was out of sight.

“Peter!! Don’t go telling everyone!” Flo squealed, grabbing hold of him.

“Everyone already knows anyway” Peter said. “You fancy the whole household, just a little bit”

“You’re such a goon, did you know?” she said, but she grinned and kissed him hard on the lips. “He’s a goon, isn’t he, Liz?”

“He’s certainly something!”

Peter shook his head. “Come on; let’s go upstairs. We can talk”

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson #finally! fucking finally updated

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