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vlvttt · 1 year

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The Glorious Days Have Gone

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part one

WC: 2,099

Cecilia Ida Harrington had always known who she was. Self-assured and confident- nothing could possibly drag her down. However, moving to a small town from the city that never sleeps can be quite a rough transition.

—----------

1985

Staring out the window had never been more interesting. Stacked boxes filled the room to the brim- stripping the room bare and rendering it lifeless. I felt as though I had no right to feel this way; I mean anybody would be upset if they were told they were leaving their friends, their school, and their entire life behind- right?

I’ll admit; I’m bitter. Not exactly at my parents, that would be unfair, though- I can’t help but feel a little bit of resentment. The cloud of dread that floated above me was starting to become more and more unbearable as the seconds went by. I decided to stand up and finally finish packing so I wouldn’t sink through the floor and fall into an overwhelming depression.

I thanked the gods that I’d been gradually putting all my things away throughout the week; lord knows I definitely wouldn’t have gotten anything done today. There was a small spark of excitement deep inside of me despite the awful feelings that rippled through me. I guess a change of environment would be nice, although the chaos of the city was oddly comforting a change of pace would do me good. Moving to Hawkins also meant that I would be closer to family- well not really. From what I’ve been told my cousin spent most of his time at home alone, his parents were never really around much and I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. In my head, my parents are the complete opposite, they’re incredibly kind and compassionate and I wish he had the same pillars of support I did. I think being practically ostracized by most of your family for becoming a parent at the age of 15 has debilitating effects on your psyche.

My father and uncle never lost touch, and even helped my mom and dad out a little when they were really desperate. I didn’t really hold the rest of my family to high standards, however. They were repulsive, self-centered, money-hungry people who came flocking back to my father's feet when success came. I don’t communicate much with them, except for Steve.

Time went by quickly and suddenly I was sitting in the backseat of the car and we were on our way to Indiana.

----

The trip was long and I desperately wanted to smash my head against the concrete. After nearly half a day, we finally arrived in the quaint town.

“Alright, shouldn’t be too long now.” I somehow managed to catch my dad saying through my headphones.

We finally arrived at our new home, it felt a little odd since I was used to apartment complexes and tightly packed buildings but it did feel more welcoming in a way. The promise of a garden is what kept me going since my parents broke the news that we were leaving the city for some small town in the midwest.

“I’m gonna go look around.” Without waiting for a response I walked off and went past the front gate and into the backyard. At that moment, I decided I wouldn’t allow myself to be miserable, the sight before me was wonderful and I could immediately feel my mood rising much higher than ever before.

“Cecilia!” I heard my mom shout, over and over since once was not enough I guess. I made my way back toward the front of the house to where she was standing. “Ceci- Oh hey, can you help your father unload the boxes? I need to get this moving shit figured out.”

I nodded with a slight chuckle and began to help the ancient man in dire need of assistance. “So whadya think so far? Pretty nice right?” he said with a grunt as he lifted the heavier of the boxes. “Yup, not as terrible as I thought it would be honestly.” We made our way past the front door and into the living room. “At least there won’t be a lingering scent of shit and piss everywhere you go- this town seems to be less primitive in that aspect.”

–

Later in the day, we made our way to my uncle’s house and I was buzzing with excitement since that meant I got to see Steve. This would be the highlight of my day- my week even. It felt like I was receiving bad news after bad news and I really needed a moment to be able to sit back and do nothing.

“Steve!”

“Cecilia!” I catapulted myself into his arms and he spun me around, setting me down with a kiss on the cheek. “Geez- you almost knocked me down there. I could’ve died.” I rolled my eyes as I took a step back, “Well I would’ve been the last thing you saw before your untimely death, but I digress, I haven’t seen you in the flesh in so long-” taking a step back I took a good look at him, “how have you been dingus?” With a grin, he lead me into the house and into the living room, but not before I greeted my aunt and uncle. He plopped himself on the couch and I followed suit.

“Well, I got a job- and I’m miserable, but what can you do.” Steve let out a heavy sigh, I remembered our past phone calls and I pitied him, he definitely didn’t deserve to feel the way he did.

“God I can’t believe your dad’s really punishing you like this.” I glanced at him, “you don’t deserve that.”

“It builds character though! But it’s so dehumanizing, you could say I’m a changed man.”

A giggle left my mouth and I was about to reply but was rudely interrupted by my aunt announcing that dinner was ready, “We’ll talk later.”

–--

A couple of days after moving to town was the day I would begin school. At the only high school in a 15 mile radius. God take me now.

Steve had offered to drop me off and of course, I took him up on that offer- I’ll be damned if I took the bus to school. Sometimes I missed that you could walk anywhere and everywhere and it was normal, but you could walk along the street here and people would look at you like you had three heads.

Stepping out of the car and into the building I couldn’t ignore the number of stares I was receiving, I was suddenly hyper-aware of myself and everything surrounding me.

Arriving at the front office, I stepped into the dull room to retrieve my schedule. I stood awkwardly for a few moments, “Can I help you?” the seemingly kind middle-aged woman questioned. “Uh, I’m new here. I need my schedule.” She looked at me expectantly, “Sorry, um- Cecilia Harrington.” With a nod, she stood from where she was sitting and went to the filing cabinet at her right.

“Here you go, do you need someone to help you find your way around?”

“No thank you I think I’ll manage.” I left the office and studied the piece of paper in my hands, ‘English for first period? Great.’ The first warning bell rang loud and produced the first headache of my day, I decided I might as well find that class now so I wouldn’t get lost like a dumbass in this tiny school. When I finally managed to find the class I found a seat in the back of the room that was right by the window, just in time as the final bell rang.

The teacher, whose name I learned was Mrs.O’Donnell, began to make some sort of announcement that I couldn’t really care less for. “Before I forget! We have a new student! Why don’t you introduce yourself?” She motioned for me to make my way to the front of the class and I felt targeted, but what can you do? “I’m Cecilia Harrington, just moved from New York City. I hope to become friends with you all!” I have never been more fake in my life, I thought. I’ve learned that the only way to survive in the grueling environment of public schools was to pretend to be someone you’re not, and hopefully, I could play the part. I definitely wouldn’t become friends with half of the people in this room, not to be judgy or whatever but they seemed like assholes at a glance.

Just as I sat back down, someone burst into the room, “Late again Mr.Munson” the teacher said pointedly, “take a seat.” Without a word the brooding teenager (although he looked a little too old to be here- so that’s up for question) sat down in the only empty seat, which just so happened to be the one beside me. I couldn’t help but glance at his outfit, it was pretty cool honestly. Distressed jeans embellished with chains, a band t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Pretty fucking sick if you ask me. As my eyes made my way up, I realized he was staring at me as well. I gave him a slight smile and diverted my attention to the teacher.

—-

The time for lunch finally came around. Fortunately, I met a sweet girl, Clarissa? Christine? Chrissy! I felt a little guilty that I couldn’t really remember her name but I did have quite a lot on my mind. For example: where am I going to get my weed from now? New York was huge, there was always someone who knew someone, who knew someone else, and so on and so forth. But I was currently in the middle of butt fuck nowhere, and I was genuinely stressing.

Anyway, Chrissy had invited me to sit with her and her friends at their table. I’d be stupid to not accept that offer unless I wanted to be a loser with no friends, so I went and sat with them.

They honestly weren’t bad, I try not to have any biases, but a table full of cheerleaders and jocks is quite intimidating and I thought they would all be mindless jackasses but they, unfortunately, proved me wrong. I couldn’t help but feel like I had some sort of advantage, however. I mean I’m completely aware of the fact that I'm a Harrington, and I’m sure people know a lot more than they should about my family.

I turned to face Chrissy to hopefully find some answers for my needs, “Hey, I know we literally just met today and this may be a bit forward but- do you know anyone who sells weed?” She let out a little giggle, which I thought was quite endearing honestly, and turned to whisper in my ear.

“You see that guy over there?” she pointed towards a table, “the guy with long hair, his names eddie, he’s who you’re looking for.”

With a dramatic gasp, I looked her in the eyes and grabbed her hands, “I owe you my life.”

—-

I may or may not have asked around on where I could find Eddie on this fine friday afternoon. To my luck, I didn’t need to ask much and I tried to formulate a plan on how to approach him.

I stalked outside the drama room like a weirdo attempting to conjure any possible path for me to take into the drama room. I mean, I had no business here. I didn’t have theater, I wasn’t a drama kid, so what could I possibly be doing here? I didn’t hear the sound of the door opening, and I definitely didn’t hear the sounds of the steps coming my way as I paced back and forth in the hallway.

I practically slammed myself into this person’s chest, “Holy shit, my bad,” they said as they grabbed me by the arms to balance me. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, that was totally my fault- Actually,” I paused, “you’re just who I was looking for.”

He raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“You’re eddie, right? I’ve heard about your- uh- business endeavors.” I looked up at him, hoping that he got what I was saying. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah that’d be me. Uh, you looking to buy?” I nodded. He was cute. Hot even. I couldn’t help but stare a little, “Okay, well uh- meet me by the bleachers later today, 5:30?” I almost didn’t reply but I caught myself before I looked like a fucking fool, “yeah that’s cool,” I made my way past him, looking over my shoulder with a smile painting my face, “see ya around, eddie.”

I knew then I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him.

—-

A/N:

yassssss my very first fanfic omgggggg. 😜

This first part may be a lil short but think of it as an introductory chapter

Also, I fucking suck at dialogue so bear with me please.

Feedback is always appreciated!!!

I’ll be on my knees kissing ur feet if u comment or reblog <3

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr. All credit goes to her!

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

"I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him.

"Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls.

"Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh.

Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there.

"How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly.

Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have.

"Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often.

"Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

"But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

"The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening.

Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham.

From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully.

"Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face.

"Baby monk, ya alright?"

Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her.

"Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell.

When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!"

That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest.

"It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe.

"Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.

Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb.

Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

"I did tell you."

"That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster."

And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

"Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

"How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business.

"Would you like to meet him first?"

A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached.

"Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her.

"Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

"Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

"When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

"Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk.

"Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

"Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought.

That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

"You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement.

"I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked.

"I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile.

He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

"No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

"It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement.

"Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings.

Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared.

"No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be.

"She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face.

"Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

"Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

"I will if I must."

"Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares."

Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

"That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more.

As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

*****

Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes.

During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light.

So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time.

Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane.

Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's.

Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met.

Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step.

On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home.

After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench.

There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step.

*****

"So, what is going on between you and Cedric?"

You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

"You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

"Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it.

Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it.

Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

"Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer.

You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches.

The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else.

Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky.

A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.

"He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence.

Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.

"Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

"Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own.

"But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed.

"Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance.

Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

"Your mother will let me in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

*****

"What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason.

When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer.

"Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him.

"Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

"Yes." You breathed out.

He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now.

"Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

"Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step.

"But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see.

That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

"He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true.

The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes.

"If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies.

As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.

"THANK YA, GOD!!"

The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness.

"Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled.

You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin.

"Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face.

"Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead."

Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric.

Just how you wanted it.

Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released.

"I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you.

"Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours.

"You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?"

It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry.

#ems100 #mzwrites #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric #sihtric imagine #Uhtred #Uhtred of Bebbanburg #osferth #finan #finan the agile

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years

Note

hii i know you might be busy because of school so take your time! Could i please get a Dead!Mitsuba,,,Dead!Hanako,,,Dead!Tsukasa,, x reader (if you dont want to write for them characters right now than you can choose others i dont mind <3) where they think reader is dying??Any situation is fine :)

dead!mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader, dead!hanako x gn!reader, dead!tsukasa yugi x gn!reader

a/n: ahh thank you for being patient;;! And of course!! Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright! And I’m so sorry for the time it took;;

aahhh i constantly remember how difficult starting and ending fics are,,, sorry if it sounds awkward ;v;; i’m also sorry if this isn’t dramatic enough- i’m trying to get these out, but i’m in a funky phase, as i haven’t written in a while;;

warnings: vomit (in Hanako’s), blood (in Tsukasa’s)

word count: 2,765

mitsuba sousuke <3

It wasn’t uncommon for Mitsuba to watch you do everyday school things. He’d follow you around, playing it off as if he wasn’t. Even now, he sat under a tree, watching you assist one of the clubs.

You were always entertaining… or maybe, you were simply enough to captivate his attention in anything you did? Your arm held high as you caught the baseball tossed your way, grinning at the person who threw it. Though not fond of you smiling like that at another person, the glance you gave Mitsuba practically made up for it- though he still glanced away, as if he wasn’t looking in the first place.

Moments passed, before he peered back up at you.

Your smiling face, as you turned to speak to one of the club members- his eyes darting over at hearing someone yell your name.

“(Y/N)!! WATCH OUT-”

And, eyes back over at you, as the undeniable sound of a baseball smacking against a skull. Mitsuba froze up, only being able to watch as you toppled to the ground. The club members instantly panicked, and Mitsuba did the same- both he and the members running over to you, students shaking you as if that would do anything.

“Idiots!! Don’t shake them-!”

Unfortunately, all of his yelling was futile. Mitsuba was dead, after all, and he was sure that you were too. A bump already formed on your head, as you peeked your eyes open, reaching for your head. Your fingers grazed against the bump, then quickly retracted, as tears filled your eyes. Shouts from the club members to get an adult rang out, as Mitsuba placed his hands on your shoulder, shaking almost as violently as you were. You closed your eyes, shaking as you reached to your head again, only to retract once more.

“(Y-Y/N), it’s okay- a-are you okay?” Mitsuba stuttered out, trying not to get emotional. It was only an injury, right… you were fine. You had to be. You’d be fine. Right?

But, when you only shook your head, squeezing your eyes tighter, he couldn’t help the pure fear that filled his entire body. His eyes grew watery when a teacher finally arrived, already on the phone with, he hoped, the paramedics.

Too much time passed, Mitsuba thought. Too much time spent grasping your hand, tears threatening to spill, as the teacher asked you too many questions. And, the absolute dread at the teacher’s reaction to everything- hearing you attempt to explain that everything went black for a moment- seeing the teachers eyes widen a bit, then eyebrows furrow in frustration. Mitsuba wanted to scream. To yell at whoever threw the ball- he didn’t care if it was a mistake. To yell at the paramedics- it was an emergency! Why couldn’t the emergency vehicle get there sooner??

Finally, they arrived. Paramedics picking you up, Mitsuba following alongside them until you sat in the vehicle. His eyes flickering from person to person, then back at you, until they shut the doors and drove off.

The next few days were like a living hell for Mitsuba. No- he wasn’t living. It was as if he had been doomed to suffer for all eternity. He shook every time he walked past your homeroom, peering inside as he checked for you. Peering over at your desk, praying that he wouldn’t see flowers sitting there. The lack of flowers was the only hope Mitsuba had left. The lack of rumors, the lack of Sakura one day opening up the broadcast with “(Y/N)-san of the baseball field.” It sounded ridiculous, sure, but he couldn’t help it…

Yes, though he’d never say it to anyone- maybe you, but that was a stretch- Mitsuba had never been so worried… he thought, as he finally saw you again, clinging to you as if you were as fragile as glass- that your death would probably affect him worse than his own did. Because, a world without you, would officially be a world without life… without you, Mitsuba knew he could no longer even feel alive.

“You idiot… I hate you so much,” His voice broke slightly, as you wrapped your arms back around him. Much like the moment when he was so sure you wouldn’t show back up, tears threatened to spill. “I missed you. Dummy. I missed you so much-”

hanako <3

There was a part of Hanako slightly paranoid about your death. Not overly so- not in a way that would hinder you. Simply, in the sense that he would risk his well-being to protect you. Yet, there were many situations where he was… helpless.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to enter the girl’s bathroom, though it was almost always to visit Hanako. So, his face instinctively lit up when he saw you stumble into the bathroom- though he felt the color drain from his face when he saw your shakey figure. The color was drained from your face as well, he noted, as he quickly floated over to you.

“(Y/N)?? What’s wrong?” He questioned, pushing the hair from your face, getting a good look at your face. He was already positive you didn’t feel well. He just needed to know how- then, he could help. Surely, he could do something.

“I… I dunno- my stomach hurts, haha… really badly.”

Before Hanako could question further- where did it hurt, what kind of pain- you stumbled into a stall, spilling any contents that were in your stomach into the toilet. Instinctively, Hanako cringed a bit- quickly, he shook the queasy feeling he got off, and stepped over to you, rubbing your back carefully.

When you looked up at Hanako, tears running down your face, he instantly feared the worst.

“Please get a teacher, or Yashiro, or- someone,” You told him, arms securing themselves around your stomach. Hanako quickly nodded, rushing as quickly down the hallway as he could. He wasn’t a doctor, for Pete’s sake- not even close to it. So, he practically flung himself into Yashiro’s classroom, shouting at her from the doorway.

“YASHIRO, (Y/N)’S IN A LOT OF PAIN!!”

Hanako could only ring his hands nervously for a moment, as Yashiro asked the teacher to be excused, floating anxiously beside her for a moment, then rushing back to you when she explained that she was going to get a teacher- thinking for a split moment, as he explained to her that you already threw up. To that, Yashiro nodded, telling Hanako that she’d be sure to make sure your guardians were contacted.

Once he reentered the bathroom, Hanako’s nerves were at a new worst state. His eyes landed on you, practically curled up next to the toilet, sniffling to yourself- he was sure he never wanted to help anyone so badly. He was sure that, if he could, he would take your pain.

“Yashiro’s getting a teacher, (Y/N). A-are you feeling any better?” You shook your head, glancing up at the ghost boy. Your face was slightly flushed with what he was sure was a fever, and your eyebrows were furrowed in clear desperation and pain. All he wanted to do was help.

“I feel like I’m dying…”

Dying. The word “dying” stuck out, striking at Hanako’s nerves as if they weren’t already being tested. You felt like you were dying? Were you?? He sat in front of you, hands shaking violently as he attempted to seem calm. You couldn’t die. No- no, the teacher would come. You would live, wouldn’t you? You weren’t going to die… right?

“It’s okay, (Y/N)- you’ll be okay,” He spoke, rubbing your shoulders gently and placing a soft kiss to your forehead, half trying to convince himself. As he continued to do so, the teacher entered the bathroom, knocking on the stall- though the door creaked open, as you hadn’t had the time to shut and lock it. It wasn’t as if you needed to- the nausea was simply overwhelming.

“(Y/N)? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m having really bad stomach pains… I threw up- it hurts to talk,” You muttered, glancing up at the teacher, giving them the same pained look you gave Hanako. They crouched next to you, placing a hand against your forehead, then nodding.

“Where does it hurt?”

Clearly not wanting to move, you sniffled, forcing yourself to sit back just enough to motion around your lower-right abdomen. As if it clicked, the teacher nodded, letting you fall back into the position you were previously in. “I have no room to say for sure, but it does sound like appendicitis. Your parents are on the way, and I’ll let them know to take you over to the hospital.”

Your grip on yourself tightened a bit, panic showing up in your face. Seeing that panic, Hanako could only fear the worst. He knew vaguely of appendicitis, sure- how likely was someone to die from it-?? If your appendix ruptured, he knew it was dire. Did it? How long did it take for an appendix to rupture? Before he could even acknowledge the thoughts running through his mind, the teacher lifted you up, carrying you out of the room.

Though Hanako followed, he was left standing at the doors of the school when your guardian carried you away. The final bell rang, all of the students finally emptying out of the school, as the car you were in drove away. He watched until it was out of sight, silently noting that it must have been the direction of the hospital.

The first few days were practically torture for Hanako. Yashiro’s comments didn’t help- her saying that you went into surgery only worsened his fears. During his lifetime, surgery was… unpleasant, to say the least. They could do it- you could certainly have your appendix removed, but- but what if something went wrong? How had things changed since he lived…? Had it ruptured, were you going to live? What if you died during recovery?

He couldn’t stand it. No, until several weeks passed, Hanako was a nervous wreck. The relief that washed through him when he saw you walking through the school halls was almost comical- that is, if he wasn’t clinging to you like he really had almost lost you.

“(Y/N)... I’m so glad to see you again.”

“Hanako, I’m so glad to see you too. Sorry for scaring you like that… but thanks for sticking with me.”

Of course, Hanako could only accept the praise, unsure how to word “I stuck with you because I didn’t want you to die alone.”

tsukasa yugi <3

Tsukasa, most were sure, wouldn’t necessarily… care if someone around him died. No, he probably loved the pained expressions of someone taking their last breaths. If it was a messy death? It would be better for him, right? Screams of pain, tears streaming down someone’s face, blood splattered around. Natsuhiko half joked that it would be a dream for Tsukasa, no matter if everyone else considered it a nightmare. Sakura remained quiet, shaking her head slightly. You… disagreed, as if protecting Tsukasa. Maybe he wouldn’t… as eerie as your boyfriend could be at times, you loved him nonetheless- and you were sure you didn’t fall for someone who would… enjoy…… others’ pain…?

Hm…

Either way! You were sure you didn’t fall for someone who would enjoy your pain!!!

Those thoughts were just that- little thoughts you had. Thrown into a few conversations between the fellow people who frequented the broadcasting room. Nothing you really wanted to prove, you know? No, you’d rather assume it, and not go through anything particularly painful to prove it.

However, those weren’t necessarily your thoughts as you tripped over the rug, one of Sakura’s tea sets in your hands. The hot tea in them went flying, landing all over you- but, that wasn’t really your focus, as you landed with a harsh thud. The glass cracked underneath you, the uncomfortable sound of shattering filling the room- accompanied by your scream- at first being echoed because of the fright of following, but being finished off because of the feeling of glass splintering you as if you were the fragile object.

Your scream ended in a cry, tears quickly clouding your vision as the sharp pain coursed through every spot the glass had harmed. Sakura’s eyes went wide, and she stood up, aiming to walk over and help you- Natsuhiko did the same, exclaiming your name once he saw you began to fall, a bit quicker than Sakura was- Mitsuba could only stare, as if his fight or flight was activated. Before any of them could reach you, Tsukasa was there, shouting your name and cupping your face.

Tsukasa wasn’t bothered by the blood, as if he could be bothered by any blood, pure worry crossing his face. It was a rare sight- Tsukasa genuinely concerned- but it wasn’t like seeing a bloody (Y/N) on the floor was exactly common. It was no one's focus, as the other three finally were gathered around you. Protectively, nearly forgetting your injuries, Tsukasa held your head to his chest- glaring at the others.

“Go get a nurse!! (Y/N)’s bleeding-!”

Natsuhiko nodded, rushing off, as Mitsuba glanced around panickedly- Sakura pushed Tsukasa away from you slightly, as if to let him know to be careful. His hands wandered to your arms, holding them carefully, peering at the glass, then up at the tears streaming down your face.

“Don’t pull out the glass. It could make the bleeding worse, and we can’t be sure where all the glass has landed. Especially in their arms.”

Tsukasa nodded a bit, glancing at his hand when one of your tears landed on it. He ignored the blood dripping onto his palms, quietly licking the tear that fell onto the back of his hand. That wasn’t enough to distract you though- he half hoped he could take away your pain, but was discouraged to only be met with your shaky sobs. His eyes wandered along the shards sticking out of your arms. Dangerously close to places he knew they couldn’t scratch- an artery, he knew, would be beyond dangerous… what if, when the glass gets pulled out, you’re met with the spewing blood that comes with a punctured artery? Looking around at the blood dripping everywhere- were you… dying?

Tsukasa froze up a bit. (Y/N)? Dying?

Well, he was dead… Amane was dead. Mitsuba was dead. But… what would happen when you died?

Would you become a ghost? Or would death be the final separation for the two of you- would Tsukasa be trapped on earth, while you moved on to whatever afterlife there was??

“(Y/N) can’t die,” was his only thought, as Natsuhiko returned, gently explaining that he was going to carry you to the nurse- then, your guardian could come at take you to the hospital. However, once Natsuhiko’s arms wrapped around your torso, Tsukasa grabbed Natsuhiko’s closest arm. “I- I can take care of them. I’ll carry, (Y/N).” “Runt, you’re a ghost. For real, don’t screw around. Let me carry them, hurry now,” He spoke, lifting you up. Tsukasa stood, balling his hands up slightly nervously. Oh, a nervous Tsukasa… it was also such a strange sight- watching Natsuhiko speedwalk with you in his arms, Tsukasa floating alongside them. In fact, Tsukasa remained with the both of you- holding your arms carefully, until you were entering the car, towels placed around you to keep the blood from spilling anywhere. He watched the car drive off, unsure how to process anything.

The next several days were… difficult for Tsukasa. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it, yet he found himself peering into your classroom to see if flowers sat on your desk. He found himself paying closer attention to the rumors spread- listening carefully for anything that sounded similar to you. He wandered the halls, as if he suddenly lost his purpose- keeping an extra eye out for a person, or ghost, with cuts from shards of glass littering their body.

Tsukasa was his… clingy self when you returned. He hugged you as tightly as he could, not wanting to release even when you warned him about your still healing arms. He placed countless kisses to your face, giggling out that he was so sure you were going to die. Even when you questioned his thoughts, Tsukasa continued on, kissing the scars, scabs, and few stitches on your body. Yes, he really was glad that you were alive. Be it for selfish reasons or selfless ones, he couldn’t be sure- he just knew he was glad.

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

A Game of Jealousy

Word count: 4050

This one is focused more from Loki's perspective, lots of fluff (and tickles!) Guest starring Bucky 😎

* * *

Loki never needed anyone to make him happy. He’d spent the better part of his life on his own, learning to rely on himself and not others for comfort. He’d been lied to his entire life by his parents, and while his relationship with his brother was at least improving gradually over time, he still remained very guarded, afraid that anyone he let in would only hurt him the way everyone else in his life had done. No, Loki felt he was better off alone.

That is, until he met you.

You had joined the team about a year ago, just a few months after Loki himself had finally given in to his brother’s persistent requests for him to move into the Avengers tower. The others were polite enough, but Loki could still sense the fear and anger in their eyes when they looked his way. Thor insisted they would warm up to him over time if he’d just try to be more sociable, but it was difficult to bring himself to want to spend time with people who burned holes into his soul with their eyes.

The day you had arrived to move into the tower to join the team, your few belongings in hand, his curiosity was piqued almost instantly. Steve had showed you around that first day, introducing you to all the members of the team. Loki had been in the study, reading in one of the oversized armchairs Tony had furnished the place with, when he saw Steve walking by the doorway with you in tow. You’d paused for a moment, taking a few paces backward to peek inside the room, eyes trained on Loki. He had braced himself for the inevitable exclamation of surprise and fear when you realized that you were living in the same building as the monster who tried to take over the city.

But it never came. You had merely smiled at him, waving in greeting, and introduced yourself as you would with anyone else. Even when he told you his name, your eyes lit up in recognition, but without an ounce of fear. You had hurried along to catch up with Steve after expressing your pleasure to have met him, a slight bounce in your step as you disappeared from sight.

He couldn’t deny it – he was intrigued by you.

Loki’s interest only grew as he began to get to know you more over the next couple of months. The first day he had seen you working with Natasha in the training room, you had impressed him with your grit and determination, not to mention the graceful ferocity with which you fought. And you were smart, too. He’d never forget the day Tony was teasing you, and you’d come up with such a witty retort that even Tony had to applaud you.

Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t the only one in the tower who had started noticing you.

As you became more integrated with the team, the others began to get more physically affectionate toward you. You spent a lot of time with Wanda, often leaning against her on the couch as you watched TV or giving her hand a squeeze when one of you was excited about something. Steve often put a comforting hand on your shoulder after a rough day of training or patted your back in encouragement when you came back from a successful mission. The friendly gestures never bothered Loki to any significant degree.

But there were other team members, notably single team members, whose advances tended to irk him more than the others. Thor was one of the worst offenders, as it was in his nature to wrap any one of his friends into a giant bear hug whenever he saw them. Bucky often liked to push your buttons, teasing you and egging you on until you’d start play wrestling with him on the couch. Even Bruce, on occasion, would wrap an arm around you in a side hug and squeeze you against his side for a moment in silent thanks whenever you’d help him with something in the lab.

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He just… wished they’d give you more personal space sometimes.

You were physically affectionate with Loki as well, which took some time for him to get used to at first. Once Loki started swallowing his pride and began initiating conversations with you instead of waiting for you to talk to him, the two of you became fast friends. He found he didn’t mind it when you squeezed his arm after a jump scare during team movie night, or if you rested your head on his shoulder on a long plane ride home from a mission. Dare he say… he even enjoyed it a bit. Recently, he’d developed enough confidence to initiate physical contact with you himself – giving you a quick hug goodnight when walking you to your room after a late-night conversation or resting his hand on your knee when sitting side by side on the couch.

Yes, you were someone he was willing to tolerate.

One evening, Loki was wandering through the compound, trying to find a quiet place to sit and read. Normally he lounged in the study, but it seemed Peter had overtaken the room with his schoolbooks as he studied frantically for one of his final exams the next day, and he showed no signs of leaving. He decided it would be easiest just to read in his room tonight but decided to swing by the kitchen to grab a glass of water before making his way back there.

As he paced down the hallway, a sound coming from the common room captured his attention. He drew near enough to the door to elucidate that it was your bright, infectious laughter that he was hearing. His heart swelled at the sound. Loki very much enjoyed making you laugh, often telling you embarrassing stories of Thor from their childhood, or otherwise whispering inappropriate jokes in your ear during team meetings, just so he could hear you snort before erupting with giggles. He reached the common room and stood in the doorway, trying to identify the cause for your hysterics.

You and Bucky were sitting on the large sofa in the common room. Although, admittedly, you couldn’t really call it sitting. You were leaning away from the super soldier, giggling frantically and swatting at his hands as he wiggled his fingers into your sides.

“Buckyhyhy! Cut it out!” you ordered, grasping at his wrists. Bucky’s agile hands evaded yours, poking and prodding at your belly and sides.

“What? What’s the matter? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” he teased, squeezing gently above your kneecaps, and eliciting a squeal.

A pang of jealousy stung in Loki’s chest. He had discovered your ticklishness a few months ago himself, having accidentally jabbed you a bit too gently in the side during an impromptu sparring session. When he dug his fingers into your torso with more intent, you had shrieked and laughed, but hadn’t pushed away as hard as he knew you could. He interpreted it as you enjoying the playfulness, or at least not minding it all that much. Since then, he had experimented on occasion, proudly discovering over time that you were definitely most sensitive right along your ribs where your back and sides met. He delighted in the silly, giggly mess you became when he scribbled his fingers into that spot, practically melting into his side as your muscles weakened with laughter.

Now, watching you and Bucky as he tested out your vulnerable spots, he felt his throat tighten a bit. He knew he had to find a way to interrupt this little exchange without letting on how he was really feeling inside. Luckily, the God of Mischief knew how to tell a good lie, and above all he most definitely knew how to spin a partial truth.

“You’re doing it wrong, Barnes,” he called into the room, leaning with his forearm propped against the doorway. Both you and Bucky glanced up at him, Bucky’s fingers slowing a bit against the back of your knee but not quite stopping.

“L-Lokihihi! Help!” you pleaded, a bright smile on your face, cheeks tinged with the exertion of your laughter. His heart skipped a bit at the request, proud that you would seek his assistance to escape the winter soldier. But he had to hold firm in his resolve. He couldn’t let you think he was soft for you, after all.

“Now, why would I want to do that? It’s so entertaining to watch you squirm.” He flashed you an evil grin, slowly striding into the room. “Move over, Barnes. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Bucky obliged, an equally mischievous smirk on his face. “Please, do tell!”

Loki motioned to you to scoot closer to Bucky so he could sit on your other side, gently pushing you over when you refused to make space for him on your own accord. You were now sandwiched between him and the super soldier, glancing nervously between the two men. In a desperate attempt to escape, you suddenly leapt to your feet to make a run for the door. Loki predicted your movement, his hands pulling you back down by your waist before you could even fully stand up.

“Ah, ah! You won’t be going anywhere, darling,” Loki teased, holding you in place while he leaned around you to look at Bucky. He ignored your desperate protests in favor of keeping you trapped there beside him. “Now then. First, you must understand that you won’t be able to access her worst spot until you weaken her adequately. Personally, I enjoy beginning right here.” He slid his hands slid around your waist to your belly, fingers drumming tauntingly against your T-shirt. Loki felt your muscles stiffen immediately under his touch, which made him grin.

“Loki! What the hell! Why are you helpihiHING HIHIHIM?” Your scolding of your mischievous friend was made much less intimidating as giggles bubbled from your lips once again, Loki’s fingers having sprung into action, expertly skimming across your belly. Your hands closed around his wrists and tugged to try to remove them from your sensitive torso, but Loki maintained his hold on you.

“Ah, yes, I see that is quite effective,” Bucky noted somberly, his eyes flashing. “Please, continue to show me your ways.”

“Notice that she will continue to fight you when you tickle her here, but trust that her laughter is slowly beginning to weaken her,” Loki continued, conversing casually as if he weren’t torturing you. “However, if you aren’t cautious-“

“Ha!” you shouted triumphantly, having twisted out of his grip and jumped to your feet.

“-she may find a way to escape.”

“That is unfortunate,” Bucky lamented. “What do you suggest if that were to occur?”

“No! No suggestions!” you demanded, defiantly holding out a hand toward the boys to protect yourself. Loki raised his eyebrows, looking up at you with a serious expression, although he was unable to prevent a smirk from pulling at the corners of his lips. You appeared so much more composed on the battlefield and in the training room – seeing you so disheveled, yet still with an involuntary smile on your face, made a thrill run through Loki’s chest.

“If she does escape,” Loki continued, completely disregarding your protests, and trying desperately not to start laughing at your adorably indignant expression, “you simply need to ensure you have a backup plan. Catch her off guard, if you will. Like this-“

Taking advantage of his inhuman speed, he lunged forward and grabbed your leg just behind your knee, causing your leg to buckle unexpectedly beneath you. He chuckled as he watched you stumble a bit on your other leg to try to remain standing but couldn’t maintain your balance and toppled to the floor. Loki swiftly took advantage of your bewilderment at finding yourself suddenly on the ground, standing up and grabbing hold of your ankle.

“Now, you won’t find her worst spot on her legs or feet, but she is most definitely still sensitive here – this can serve to weaken her resolve further,” Loki continued, fully aware that he was causing a blush to rise in your cheeks now as he tugged on your ankle to straighten your leg, yanking you onto your back. You began cursing at him, which he quickly silenced by dusting his fingertips across the sole of your trapped foot. He had discovered this spot a few weeks ago, when you had refused to move your legs to allow him a place to sit. Not to be deterred, he had plopped himself down atop your shins, grinning at you as he had tested your reaction to his fingers dragging up the bottoms of your feet. The frenzied giggles this elicited from you were some of his favorites, only encouraging him to want to continue with the torment.

“But what about her knees? Will that help to weaken her resolve?” Bucky queried, smirking down at you as you shot him a glare.

“Allow me to show you,” Loki obliged, his hand moving to scratch against the delicate underside of your knee. You snorted, then, and he nearly broke his façade by laughing aloud. He experimentally pinched your calf muscle gently, just below your knee, and was not disappointed by your sudden violent jerking of your leg away from his touch. “Ah, a new weak spot. You see, even being an expert at tormenting our little friend, you can still learn something new.” Loki was speaking to Bucky but kept his eyes trained on you, smirking as you beat your fist against the floor in protest.

“I thought wehehe were friends!!” you cried through your laughter. Feeling somewhat merciful, Loki paused his torture and lowered your leg back to the ground, offering you a hand up.

“I apologize, darling; are you tired of this?” Loki asked, holding a hand down to you in offering to help you to your feet. He kept his hand outstretched as you sat up on the floor, your eyes fixed on his, brows furrowed as if trying to decipher whether he was tricking you. Hesitantly, you took his hand. Your skin was pleasantly warm against his own, which almost made him regret what he was about to do.

Almost.

No sooner had your feet rooted onto the ground beneath you did he grab hold of your arm, spinning you around and wrapping both arms tight around your waist. He wasted no time dragging you backward so your back was flush against his chest, his ticklish touch making its way to your lower ribs. You let out a shriek, followed by rambunctious belly laughter. He relished in the feeling of your giggles vibrating against his chest as he tightened his grip around your waist, holding fast against your desperate thrashing.

“If you can convince the girl to trust you,” he continued, having to speak loudly to be heard over your squealing, “an unwise decision, honestly,” he added, his voice rumbling low in your ear, “you may be able to trick her into falling into your trap.” You screamed his name as he walked his fingers agonizingly slowly up your ribcage, your fingers hooking around his wrists and pulling desperately at his hands.

“An excellent tip, thanks for that,” Bucky teased. You whined at his words, which somehow only made your laughter even more adorable. Loki had the sudden urge to squeeze you tighter and nuzzle his nose into your neck, but he thought that you might interpret such a gesture as a flirtatious advance, and he didn’t want to spoil this little game.

At this point you were doubled over, hands weakly tugging at Loki’s fingers as your muscles began to fatigue. Loki could sense that you were leaning more and more of your weight on his arms as you tired, forcing him to tighten his grip even further to keep you from collapsing onto the floor. He slowed his torment a bit, allowing you a moment to rest. You gasped for air, your chest heaving under his forearms with every breath.

“Notice, Barnes, that she has weakened considerably by this point,” Loki explained, continuing under the ruse of showing Bucky how to torture you. “It is only at this level of exhaustion that you will be able to target her one true weak spot.”

Loki felt you jolt at his suggestion, twisting your torso as much as you could in his vice-like grip to look back at him, wide-eyed. You shook your head, pleading with him. He hardened his expression, albeit with some difficulty as he was struggling to wipe the smile off his face, and he splayed his fingers across your ribs so his fingertips rested just along that overly sensitive spot near your back on each side. You were already giggling, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment that was to come.

“Ahahahaha… please Loki, you dohohon’t have to do thihihis!” you begged, pouting at him. Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that, his heart melting at your tiny frown and protruding bottom lip. For a moment, he considered releasing you. But then again, he was getting drunk off of your sweet laughter, and he wasn’t ready for it to stop.

“Sorry, love – I have to show Barnes how to tickle you properly,” he lamented, a faux sympathetic smile on his lips. Before you could beg him once more and break his resolve, he went in for the kill, fingers drilling into the crevices between your ribs. You screeched, torso jerking in his grip for a moment before going limp as you accepted your fate. Loki knew exactly how to tickle you, his fingers expertly vibrating against your ribcage until your laughter became silent. He finally relented after that, loosening his hold so you could catch your breath but not releasing you yet.

With his arms loosened, he could lean around to get a better view of your face. Your cheeks were bright, small tears of mirth collecting in the corners of your eyes. You still had a smile plastered across your face, so wide it caused your nose to scrunch up the tiniest bit. Loki’s heart fluttered at the sight of you, pleased that he had been the cause of your giddy laughter.

“That was an excellent demonstration,” Bucky observed, winking at you as you groaned. “Could I give it a go?”

Loki hesitated, and you stiffened, already arguing with the super soldier. He had anticipated this might occur, given he was supposedly teaching Bucky how to tickle you ‘correctly.’ Still, the idea of having to watch Bucky’s fingers skittering over your belly or scribbling into your knees made his throat burn with jealousy. If he refused, though, he would almost surely give away his feelings.

Reluctantly, though he hid it well, Loki motioned for Bucky to take his place behind you, releasing you only once Bucky’s arms snaked around your waist. Your pleas for mercy were quickly drowned out by your laughter once again as Bucky’s fingers spidered along your ribcage.

“You weren’t kidding – this is much more effective,” Bucky noted, your resolve already weakened from the prior bout of torment. Loki watched as you leaned involuntarily backward into the winter soldier, your head resting back against his shoulder as you submitted to his ticklish onslaught. Loki’s fingers contracted into a tight fist at his side, willing himself not to intervene and give away his displeasure. But damn it, if watching Bucky’s fingers exploring your ticklish sides wasn’t setting a fire in his belly. It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of his heart in his chest and was squeezing it painfully tightly in their clutches.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Knowing you wouldn’t appreciate if he lashed out at your friend, Loki placed a firm hand on Bucky’s forearm, urging him to stop without saying a word. Confusion etched itself into Bucky’s features as he stilled his fingers against your sides, his grip around you loosening. Your eyes were shimmering with exertion as you looked up at Loki pleadingly.

“I believe she has had enough for today,” Loki stated sternly. He took a step toward the two of you, swiftly scooping you up bridal style in his arms without a second thought. You let out a squeak of surprise as your feet left the ground, your arms instinctively reaching up to wrap around Loki’s neck to stabilize yourself. He turned back around with you in his arms, looking Bucky in the eye. “I’ll be taking her now, thank you.”

Bucky held Loki’s gaze, his face contorting from confusion to surprise, then finally to a knowing smirk. He nodded in approval, waving him off nonchalantly as he returned to his original seat on the couch and turned on the television. Loki carried you out of the room, a fuzzy warmth spreading through his chest as you began to giggle once again, leaning your head into his shoulder.

He arrived at your room, opening the door with his magic so as not to risk dropping you, then turned to avoid striking your head on the doorframe as he carried you inside. Carefully, he set you down on your bed. You sat up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as you smiled up at him.

“Your savior has rescued you from the winter soldier’s clutches,” Loki teased, smirking.

“Excuse me – my savior? If I recall, you were the one who nearly tickled me to death,” you retorted, playfully shoving him as he sat down beside you on the bed.

“You enjoyed every minute of it, love,” he smirked, giving you a swift poke in the side to make you jump. You smirked back at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You know, I know exactly what you were doing back there.” Something in your calculated gaze made Loki’s heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

“Is that so? And what is it you think I was doing?” Loki asked, trying to keep his tone casual and sarcastic to avoid giving himself away. You leaned closer to him, bravely holding his gaze.

“You were jealous of Bucky,” you declared. “You couldn’t stand to see him with his hands on me, even when it was as innocent as tickling. You don’t think I noticed?”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but for quite possibly the first time in his life, the silver-tongued god was at a loss for words. You maddeningly perceptive thing. You’d seen straight through his little façade and into his heart. Your eyes glowed with the triumph of having silenced the God of Mischief with just a simple observation.

“Do you deny it?” you queried, your grin expanding. Loki sighed, recognizing he’d been caught.

“No, love. I can’t deny it.”

“Good.” Your hand reached up to touch his cheek, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. The shock of your sudden advance was quickly replaced by elation, and Loki kissed you back fervently. His hands found your waist, gently grasping your hips with enough weight in his touch to keep from tickling you. He felt you smile sweetly against his lips. When you finally broke away, Loki lifted his hands to cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “Now then – I believe I’m owed some payback for the torture you just put me through…”

“Oh, really?” Loki raised his eyebrows at you, grinning playfully. “And how do you intend to execute such revenge?”

“Hmm… Maybe I’ll just take a page out of your book.” The mischief in your eye reminded him uncannily of himself. He suddenly felt your delicate fingers squeezing into his side, making him jolt. Your face lit up with pure joy as you witnessed his reaction.

Oh, he couldn’t be having that.

His arms were wrapped around you in a flash, dragging you into his chest and leaning backward until you were lying on top of his chest in his arms, eliciting a squeal. He leaned in close, his lips right beside your ear.

“Darling, you don’t want to be doing that.”

The room was soon filled with your frantic giggles once again. But this time, you really didn’t try to get away. Because in all honesty, he was right before – you loved every minute of it.

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!loki #ler!bucky #lee!reader

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

The New Assistant (One Shot)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 3985

Summary: You are Cillian Murphy’s new assistant for Season 6 of Peaky Blinders.

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Your First Day at the Peaky Blinders Set

‘Mr Murphy, I am Y/N, your new assistant’ you said as you stood 1.5 feet across from him, complying with the social distance requirements.

‘Please, just call me Cillian’ Cillian said with a smile before telling you that it is nice to meet you.

‘Sorry Mr Murphy, uhm Cillian’ you said, causing him to laugh.

‘So, here are the scripts for today and a coffee’ you said. ‘Rose told me that this is how you drink your coffee, but if you like something else just let me know’ you added.

‘Thanks Y/N, it’s perfect’ Cillian said as he took a sip and getting on with his work.

You only recently began watching Peaky Blinders as you applied for the job and you couldn’t believe that, when you met Cillian, he had as much charisma as he displayed on camera.

His piercing blue eyes and smile were almost hypnotising, yet he seemed kind and down to earth.

You noticed that he was lost in his own little world as you observed him work for the morning. It was like he transformed into Thomas Shelby and, every time he spoke to you, it took him a little while to lose his Birmingham accent.

After you accompanied him on set for five hours, he asked you whether you could prepare the scenes for the next day for him.

You drew up a schedule for him, putting together transcript for each scene. You made two copies and placed them in small folders.

You were very organised and he appreciated it.

‘Two folders? Please tell me that they are not both for me’ he said with a slight worry as he stepped back into his trailer after finishing off for the day.

‘No, just one is for you. The other one is for me. Rose said that you like to rehearse your scenes in advance’ you said before offering him to rehearse the scenes with him.

‘Yes, but I usually do this alone’ Cillian said with a smile.

‘You sure? I mean, I am not a good actor but I did take some drama classes back in high school many years ago and I could point out any mistakes with the lines as I read along’ you said with some slight laughter as you pointed at the script.

‘Well, I suppose why not. This could be fun’ Cillian said, gladly accepting your offer. After all, it was better to have some company than talking to himself in the mirror.

‘Alright let’s do it then’ you said as you sat down on the small lounge in his trailer, giving him little time to prepare.

After Cillian took 15 minutes to read the scripts, he put the folder down on the table. You couldn’t believe that he remembered the lines already.

‘Alright Y/N, Scene 7, let’s go’ he said with a cheeky smile, waiting for your acting skills to surface.

‘Thomas, you cannot be serious’ you said putting in a terribly bad Birmingham accent, causing Cillian to a have a slight chuckle. You tried very hard to stay serious.

‘You should know that I am serious Lizzie’ Cillian responded, having memorised his script, Tommy’s thick accent surfacing.

‘You are going to get us killed Thomas. But you don’t care, do you? You never cared’ you said, improving slightly in your tone.

‘When have I not cared for you Lizzie, ey?’ Cillian said before continuing on with his lines.

The script was slowly moving towards the intimate scene between Tommy and Lizzie but you were only rehearsing the words, not the actions. A shame you thought, but you knew you had to remain professional.

‘Lizzie, you need to understand that this is what I need’ Cillian said as he went on. In the script this would be where Tommy steps closer towards Lizzie, wearing nothing but his black suit pants.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said, biting your lips and feeling slightly awkward as you spoke the line with such passion. Your thoughts wandered to the scene, playing it out in your head.

‘You should consider a career in acting Y/N’ Cillian smirked as he didn’t continue with the script. He became to notice that you were feeling slightly awkward.

‘I don’t think so’ you said shyly as you starred into his deep blue eyes. There was an awkward silence between you until Cillian finally spoke again.

‘Can we do this again?’ Cillian asked as he noticed that he missed a couple of words within his lines. You didn’t want to point the mistakes out to him as, in your mind, he was perfect.

You agreed to another round of rehearsals and all went smoothly the second time around until you reached the final line.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said, inhaling deeply before taking a break.

‘You sure do Lizzie’ Cillian said as he finished off the script for Scene 7, causing you to simply stare at Cillian.

‘And then Tommy gets to romp Lizzie’ Cillian said laughing before he suggested that you rehearse the next scene with him.

‘Lucky Lizzie’ you giggled just before you realised what you had just said.

‘I am not so sure, it looks pretty rough’ Cillian said as he flicked through the script.

‘Well, some women like it like this’ you said.

‘So I’ve heard’ Cillian said, not sure where this conversation was going.

‘How do you do it, acting scenes like this?’ you asked curiously, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Well, you just switch off and do it, I suppose’ Cillian chuckled.

‘You know you still missed a word here’ you said shyly. ‘Do you want to try again?’ you said, causing Cillian to nod.

Without missing a single word, Cillian acted his entire script for the scene until your line came up once again.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said.

‘You sure do Lizzie’ Cillian responded, but you weren’t finished with your script this time.

Having read on from the last time, you knew what was happening in the script. Tommy and Lizzie were getting it on but not before Tommy grabs hold of Lizzie’s throat, looking into her eyes without speaking a word. His eyes were doing the talking in the end of the scene. So, you went on, finishing Lizzie’s final line before the cut.

‘Don’t you want to fuck me?’ you asked with your eyes full of fire.

‘What?’ Cillian asked surprised.

‘That’s Lizzie’s last line and the final line in the script for Scene 7’ you answered.

‘Right, yes’ Cillian said, blushing slightly before an awkward silence erupted once again.

‘Shall we go the next scene now?’ you asked, causing Cillian to nod.

Acting it Out

The next day, you got to watch the scene you had rehearsed with Cillian the evening before and you couldn’t help it but be amazed by his acting skills.

At the same time, you were somewhat turned on by watching him with Lizzie, roughly throwing her onto the bed before taking her from behind.

You would have loved being in her shoes for a moment, but for real.

‘I watched your scene with the script in my hand, it was perfect’ you smiled as you gave Cillian some clothes to cover his half naked body.

You couldn’t help it but gaze over his freckled chest as he stepped closer and he was sure to notice.

‘Well, I had some good practice’ he smiled, not bothered by the fact that he was half naked and that you were clearly staring at him.

‘I am always here to help Cillian’ you said as you handed him the script for the next scene.

‘Thanks Y/N’ Cillian said before getting ready for the next scene.

The day went fast and Cillian pretty much disappeared to his apartment right after the day was finished.

As you went into his trailer to get your handbag, you noticed that he left his notes.

You knew that he was going to look for them to rehearse before tomorrow and decided to drop them off to him.

You were staying at the same hotel building so it wasn’t an inconvenience.

As you arrived at the hotel, you knocked on his door and he was quick to open.

‘You left this on set’ you said as you handed Cillian his notes.

‘Thank you Y/N’ he said before taking a pause.

He noticed that you were gazing into his apartment through the open door and raised his eyebrows slightly, smiling at you. It was like his eyes were asking you what you were doing without his mouth actually moving.

‘Oh sorry, I was just trying to see what the score was. I don’t have pay tv in my room’ you said with embarrassment, pointing at the TV.

‘Uhm, right. Would you like to come in and watch the game with me? I’ll even put on a shirt’ Cillian asked with smirk.

‘You know we aren’t allowed, with social distancing and so forth’ you said.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ Cillian said with a chuckle. He knew it wouldn’t have mattered as you spent a lot of time together already.

‘Alright then, it can stay our little secret’ you said as you walked inside his studio apartment.

Cillian was quick to put on a t-shirt, although you would have preferred if he didn’t.

‘You never mentioned that you liked soccer’ he said.

‘It never came up’ you responded, still somewhat nervous by his presence, being in his apartment.

But, you soon relaxed and sat down on the lounge with him.

Cillian offered you some wine as you were watching the second half of the game.

It was a tight finish with a score of 1-0. The last goal was scored in the final 10 minutes and it was nerve wrecking.

Cillian’s team won and you couldn’t help it but be a little disappointed as you were cheering for the opposite team.

‘Tomorrow is going to be a busy day’ you said as the game had finished, not knowing what else to say.

‘Yes, I am not looking forward to it’ Cillian said leaning forward to pour some more wine, cringing a bit as he moved.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked as you noticed that he seemed uncomfortable as he leaned forward.

‘Yes, I just hurt my back earlier during one of the scenes’ Cillian said.

‘Where does it hurt?’ you asked as you began tapping over his back, causing Cillian to look at you with surprise.

‘Oh god sorry’ you said, removing your hands quickly. ‘Bad habit’ you were quick to say.

‘Bad habit ey?’ Cillian asked with a smile.

‘Before COVID I was a physiotherapy student’ you explained. ‘I like to fix people’ you added with a laugh.

‘Right’ Cillian responded with a warm smile.

‘Would you like me to take a look and see if I can fix the pain?’ you asked.

‘Now that would defiantly break social distancing requirements’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ you said with grin on your face, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Alright then, give it a crack’ he said.

‘Take off your shirt’ you said, causing Cillian to raise his eyebrows again before obliging with your request. It wasn’t like you hadn’t already seen him half naked.

You climbed behind him and couldn’t help but stare at his freckled skin again as you began to run your hands over his back, pressing hard on several trigger points until he eventually cringed.

‘Is that where it hurts?’ you asked.

‘Yes, fuck’ he said after you pressed down on the area harshly.

‘Sorry, but this might hurt a little’ you said while beginning to massage the area.

After about two minutes, the pain subsided but Cillian didn’t think to tell you. Instead, he let you continue with the movements. He began to enjoy the massage you were giving him.

‘That feels better’ you said, noticing the tension in his back disappearing slowly.

‘It does, but I don’t think I want you to stop now’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘I can keep going, if you like’ you said, moving your hands to other regions of his back while breathing in the sweet scent of his aftershave.

As your hands moved to his shoulders and over, slightly towards his chest, Cillian could feel a tingling sensation emerging in between his legs.

Hoping that you wouldn’t notice what was building up in between his legs, he placed his t-shirt across them, hiding his emerging erection.

As you continued the massage for a few more minutes and he noticed that his erection would not go back down, he felt the need to tell you to stop, but he couldn’t bring it across his lips. It felt too nice and pleasurable.

Your hands were roaming across his back, up and down and you began to notice his breathing getting heavier.

As your hands suddenly stopped on his lower back he looked back over his shoulder, not realising that this was exactly where your face was at this moment.

His blue eyes gazed into yours for a moment as there was an awkward silence between you.

As you starred at him, your hands moved up again, causing him to breath in heavily once more.

In that moment, with your hands still wandering up his back, you leaned forward in sixty-degree angle, pressing your chest against his back and brushing his lips with yours.

Cillian gave into the kiss, turning around slightly to caress your face and pull you closer towards him. The kiss was intensifying and became more urgent with every moment.

‘I think all of the social distancing is out of the window now’ Cillian chuckled as your lips drifted apart and you climbed away from behind him.

Within just seconds, you pulled your t-shirt over your head and climbed onto his lap with one leg placed on each side of him before leaning in for another kiss.

Cillian ran his hands over your back as you exchanged a passionate kiss and you could feel his erection beneath you.

‘Let’s take our rehearsals a bit further, shall we?’ you said in between kisses as you grinded yourself against him.

‘We shouldn’t, you are my assistant’ Cillian responded while running his hands over your breasts, without any intention of stopping.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ you giggled as you stood up, taking off your jeans as well and letting them drop to the floor.

Cillian gazed over your body, taking in everything and admiring your curves.

‘I suppose it can stay our little secret, although I think it’s a bad idea Y/N’ Cillian said as he stood up in front of you, pressing his lips against yours while you reached for the zipper of his jeans.

‘I think it’s a great idea. We both want this and need to get it out of our systems so that we can work well together. Despite, you are stressed, let me be a good assistant and relief that stress of yours’ you smirked as your hand ran beneath his briefs, taking hold of his erect cock.

Without responding to your comment, he pressed his lips onto yours again before guiding you backwards towards his bed.

‘If I'd have known we'd be doing this I wouldn't have worn this’ you added, looking down at the underwear.

Cillian grabbed your chin lightly and pressed his lips to yours for a short moment.

‘It’s coming off anyway’ he winked at you before reaching behind you to unclip your bra. His gaze dropping to your small but perky breasts.

He took them in his hands grabbing onto them gently before pushing you onto the bed.

Next his hands went to your panties and pulled them down your legs and before you knew it you were laying on his bed completely naked and Cillian’s deep blue eyes devoured you.

You didn't feel self-conscious like you usually would because you could tell from that look in his eyes and his facial expression that he clearly liked what he saw.

Cillian’s eyes locked on yours as you sat up against the pillows and his fingers went into his waist band pulling down his briefs.

His erection stood proudly pointing at you and you weren’t disappointed with that either, he sure was packing down there!

He climbed onto the bed and pulled your legs apart, kneeling in between.

‘Is it bad that I’ve been fantasising about this?’ Cillian asked, still gazing over your naked body.

‘No. I've wanted this too’ you admitted, your eyes fixated on his hand moving up and down that cock of his.

‘I always had to touch myself whenever I went to bed because I wanted you so much’ you said.

‘Show me’ he breathed out, your eyes closing at his words and then opening as your hand slid down your body and stroked through your already damp folds.

He groaned as you pushed two fingers into your wetness.

With a quickness you had never witnessed before he grabbed a hold of your wrist and raised your fingers to his mouth, his eyes closing as his full lips wrap around your fingers sucking off your juices.

He then grabbed onto your other wrist and pinned them both above your head as he leaned down and ran kisses over your breasts and trailing them all the way down to your wet folds.

His hand went in between your legs, instantly finding your clit. He began to rub it, in small slow circles while his tongue ran through your wetness.

‘Fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as your hands reached down and grabbed onto his shoulders.

His movements became quicker and he increased the pressure, pressing down harder and harder. He then replaced his finger with his tongue on your clit as he shoved two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly in and out.

‘You're so fucking wet Y/N’ Cillian groaned, his eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers soon curled upwards against your g-spot as he continued to pump them in and out of you.

You gasped out at the sensation and could feel yourself racing towards your first orgasm of the night and you had a sneaky feeling that it most definitely wouldn't be the last.

As his force and speed increased so did your moans and you reached down and gripped his hair, pulling on it.

‘That’s it, oh god’ you moaned loudly as your walls began clenching around your fingers while your orgasm washed over you.

Cillian slowed down the finger action and let go of your clit then wickedly flicked his tongue against it once more making you flinch.

He grinned at you as he moved up your body and then took your mouth in a deep kiss.

You shoved your tongue into his mouth, tasting your own arousal and then somehow flipped him over so you were straddling his hips.

You tasted the skin of his neck. Then you made your way down that freckled chest, gently biting his left nipple on the way down.

You licked at his toned abs and then reached that hard as steel erection that was already oozing precum. His breathing was becoming deeper as you encircled your hand around him and pumped a couple times before flicking your tongue against the head.

‘Fuck’ Cillian moaned as his hand reached for your hair while you began bopping up and down his shaft.

You enjoyed the taste of his precum as you continued your movements for several moments while using your fingers to play with his balls.

He loved every moment of it but, after a while, had to ask you to stop for obvious reasons.

You obliged. You wanted him inside of you badly.

Cillian then reached for the bedside table, grabbing a condom from the draw and putting into his hard cock.

Before he could change position you climbed on top of him.

‘No need to be gentle, I like it just like Lizzie does’ you smirked, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head as your pussy slid over his hard cock and you guided it inside of you.

You were unbelievably tight causing Cillian to moan out load on that first stroke.

Your hands were resting on his chest as you slowly raised yourself up and then dropped back down over and over teasing him to the point where his hands were digging into your thighs.

You began to quicken your pace, riding him faster and faster.

Cillian held onto your hips as he thrust his up to your stroke by stroke unknowingly getting faster until he was holding you up and thrusting into you so hard and fast that you were crying out his name.

It was obvious to you that he also liked it rough and, as soon as your walls began to contract around him, he flipped you over onto your back.

He wanted to take control and you were absolutely fine with that.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to thrust into your tight hole for several more minutes.

Unhooking your legs from around him, Cillian leaned up and rested them over his shoulders before increasing his pace.

His hand reached down and began rubbing your swollen clit, making you cry out once again continuously.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as you were so close again.

Just as your walls began tightening around his hard cock, he pulled out of you.

‘Not yet’ he smirked before he told you to get on your hands and knees.

‘Please Cillian, just fuck me’ you pleaded as he was tasing your entrance with his hard cock from behind you.

‘As you wish’ he said as, all of a sudden, with one deep thrust, he buried himself inside of you again.

You cried out as he entered you and his thrusting was slowing down for a moment as he pushed his hips into you as deep as humanly possible.

The thrust was hard and deep, but he soon picked up pace again.

‘Oh god yes. Fuck me hard’ you groaned out into the pillow beneath you.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips slamming into you harshly as you pushed your back.

Second later, remembering the scene between Tommy and Lizzie, he grabbed a handful of your silky hair and pulled on it, making you arch your back as he fucked you from behind.

‘Yes, don’t stop’ you moaned as his speed picked up more and more with each thrust.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned, his hands regaining their grip on your waist.

‘Oh my god Cillian’ you moaned, your voice muffled by the pillow and your walls tightening around his cock.

Your orgasm came running over you like a speed train as you screamed loudly, sending Cillian over the edge also.

Within seconds of your own orgasm, Cillian found his release, his thrusts slowing down as he rode out his orgasm.

‘Fuck’ was all he managed to say as he pulled out of you and disposed the condom filled with his sweet cum.

You were still huffing, your body limb just as he collapsed next to you.

‘Feeling better now?’ you grinned.

‘Yes actually’ he smiled before giving you a quick kiss.

After you spent about ten minutes curled up with each other it was time for you to leave. After all, you both had a busy day ahead.

‘So, just let me know if you ever need some more stress relief’ you smirked as you said goodnight.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic

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supercorpbb · 3 years

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Are you a fan of SuperCorp or a fandom creator? Want to see more art and fics like this or take part in this kind of collaboration where artists inspire writers? Follow us! Sign ups begin soon. Everyone is welcome! Now, enjoy the story.

(Thanks @iwishicoulddrawheatherforaliving for the art and @emiliarowan for the story !)

It wasn’t entirely unusual for Kara to visit Lena at work.

What was unusual, however, was Supergirl barreling headfirst through a plate glass window into the conference room while Lena was personally welcoming the newest group of L-Corp interns.

Lena stood at the front of the conference room, heart thundering in her chest, as Kara rolled around on the floor for a long moment before standing and whipping her cape over her head.

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Supergirl exclaimed in a sing-song voice not entirely appropriate for the amount of destruction she had just caused. She looked around the room with wide eyes before her gaze landed on her wife. “Lena!”

“K— Supergirl,” Lena huffed as the Kryptonian hugged her, squeezing just a bit too tightly for Lena’s human rib cage. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” Kara replied. “You smell nice.”

“Supergirl,” Lena muttered as Kara inhaled deeply into Lena’s hair. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Kara said innocently. “Ooo, what’s that?”

Lena looked up and realized that she had squeezed the laser pointer in her hand, and the small red dot was moving across the screen behind her. Kara released her from her hug and backed up, sticking her tongue out and furrowing her brow in concentration before launching herself at the wall. Lena’s wrist flicked in surprise, sending the little red dot across the wall and onto the ceiling. Kara, unrestrained by the laws of gravity, took off after the dot, and in doing so sent the projector screen to the floor with a loud crash.

“Miss Luthor?”

Lena looked away from the chaotic Kryptonian as her assistant poked her head into the room. “Jess, I’m not sure now is the time…”

“Agent Danvers is on Line One,” Jess told her, but she was watching as Kara chased the laser pointer into a corner, knocking over a potted plant in the process.

“Right,” Lena replied. She looked back at the dozen interns currently watching National City’s heroine pouncing on a red dot. “Okay, I think everyone should head to lunch a bit early. Orientation will resume at one thirty with your department heads.”

The young scientists didn’t even grumble as they shuffled out of the room.

“Here, keep her occupied,” Lena instructed, handing over the laser pointer to Jess as she stepped into the lobby to take the phone call. “Alex?”

“Heeeeey, Lena,” Alex answered, raising Lena’s suspicions. “I don’t want to alarm you, but, um, have you seen…?”

“Have I seen my wife? Yes, she crashed through the window into my conference room about three minutes ago, and now Jess is… entertaining her,” Lena replied, peering into the next room. In fact, Jess might’ve been having a bit too much fun leading Kara around the room using the laser pointer. Lena sighed and focused her attention back to the phone call.

“Oh, good, good,” Alex replied. “Does she seem a little… off?”

“If by off you mean high as a kite, then yes, I’d say she’s a little off,” Lena told her. “Care to explain?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line and Lena could practically hear Alex trying to formulate her response. “Well, the team got a call from the NC Botanical Gardens about this plant that somebody donated that they couldn’t identify and it turned out to be alien and while they were inspecting it, the plant shot some kind of pollen in their faces.”

“Some kind of pollen?” Lena interrupted. “Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex replied. “It affected them all differently. J’onn passed out immediately— he’s fine, he’s sleeping it off in the infirmary. Brainy is acting like he’s had fifteen shots of espresso— he’s currently reprogramming the Roomba for combat. It didn’t affect Nia at all, probably because she’s half human. Kara flew off before I could really get an idea of how it was affecting her, but you say she’s… high? How so?”

Lena looked back into the other room to see that Kara was lying on her back beneath the broken potted palm, slapping playfully at the fronds and giggling. She really only had one comparison she could make.

When she was seven years old, Lionel had brought home a kitten as a pet. A little black and white fluff ball with a flat face, Lena had named her Duchess. Lena had doted on the cat until Lillian sent her away to boarding school, and she wasn’t entirely sure what became of it after that. One distinct memory of the cat came to mind now. She had given Duchess a catnip-stuffed toy, and the normally refined feline had spent hours rolling around on the toy, carrying it from room to room, pupils dilated, completely relaxed, stoned out of her mind.

That was exactly what Kara looked like now.

“Are you telling me my sister is—“

“Basically a human-shaped cat at the moment? Mmhmm,” Lena confirmed.

Alex let out a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone. “Okay, we need to get her someplace safe where she can’t do any damage until the chemicals get out of her system.”

“If I can get her home, I can turn on the red sun lamps in the bedroom,” Lena replied.

“Every time I try to forget that you had those installed, you just have to remind me,” Alex grumbled. “But yeah, good idea. Take her home, make her shower to get any excess pollen off, and then just lock her in the bedroom until it wears off.”

“Okay, I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.”

Lena made her way back to the conference room where Kara was hiding behind the edge of the table, eyeing the laser pointer on the wall yet again, and Jess was smiling gleefully as she slowly moved the light in circles around on the wall.

“Okay, I hate to break up the fun, but hand over the laser pointer,” Lena said, holding her hand out expectantly.

“Awwwww,” Jess groused.

“Jessica,” Lena warned.

Jess sighed and gave her the device. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Lena told her. “I’m gonna need you to—“

“Cancel your meetings for the rest of the day and have facilities come clean up this mess and replace the window?” Jess supplied. “On it, boss.”

“Now I remember why I hired you,” Lena said with a grin. “Come on, Kara, darling, we’re going home.”

“But—“ Kara began to argue, only to stop when Lena aimed the laser pointer at the door.

Lena managed to get the pouncing Kryptonian into the elevator, downstairs, and through the lobby with minimal incident and only one bent elevator panel of destruction. What Lena hadn’t realized, however, was that once they were outside, the bright midday sunlight made the laser pointer’s dot near-impossible to see, even for Kryptonian eyes. The city itself, however, offered plenty of things to distract Kara away from the town car on the curb.

“Ooo, look, Lena!” Kara exclaimed. “Kebabs!”

Lena grabbed Kara’s cape in an attempt to stop her, but that only resulted in her being dragged across the sidewalk towards a falafel stand. Once they were at the front of the line, Lena bought several servings of kebabs and grabbed them all up before Kara could get hold of them.

“Nuh-uh,” Lena chastised. “You only get kebabs if you get in the car. Deal?”

Kara pouted, but she reluctantly cooperated. Once they were in the car, Lena instructed George to take them to her penthouse. When they reached the apartment building, however, there was an ice cream truck serendipitously stationed on the corner, and Kara pointedly refused to enter the building without getting ice cream. Lena couldn’t help but scowl as she paid for a heaping cone of Kara’s favorite chocolate swirl. Her dour mood couldn’t last, however, with Kara happily lapping at her ice cream cone as the elevator made its way to the top floor.

Once inside their apartment, it wasn’t difficult to get Kara into the bedroom, and once she was there Lena immediately hit the button that switched on the red sun lamps and locked down all of the windows and doors. The room was awash in a coppery glow, and Kara immediately sank down on the foot of the bed.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed woozily.

“You okay?” Lena asked, immediately concerned.

“Yeah, just really sleepy all of a sudden,” Kara replied, and then she yawned in further confirmation. She stretched her arms high over her head, the remainder of her ice cream cone tipping precariously.

“Easy there,” Lena warned, pulling the offending dessert back down to face-level. “Why don’t you finish that up while I get the shower going, and then after that you can take a nap. Sound good?”

“Will you nap with me?” Kara asked pitifully

“Of course,” Lena replied. After the last half hour, she certainly felt like she needed a nap herself.

Kara finished the ice cream quickly, as Lena collected towels and pajamas. She managed to get Kara out of her super suit and into the shower without using the laser pointer or bribing her with food. For a moment Lena felt quite successful— until Kara reached out and yanked Lena, fully clothed, under the spray.

“Kara!” Lena sputtered.

Kara just giggled, eyes fixated south of Lena’s face as her white blouse became more and more transparent. “Hehe… tiddies.”

Lena put her fingers underneath Kara’s chin and pushed her face up until she met her gaze. “Eyes up here, Danvers.”

By the time she got Kara out of the shower her wife was practically falling asleep standing up. Lena managed to get Kara’s blonde hair mostly dried and forced her into a t-shirt and pajama shorts before she staggered to the bed.

“Just gonna close my eyes for a bit,” Kara murmured as she cuddled into a pillow.

“You do that, darling,” Lena chuckled. Then she made her way back to the bathroom. She cleaned up the puddles of water, dried her hair, and put on her own pajamas before returning to the bedroom.

She blinked at the sight that greeted her. In the ten minutes she had taken in the bathroom, Kara had raided their closet for all of the pillows, blankets, and extra comforters, and had used those to construct a round fort on their king-size bed.

“Kara?” Lena called hesitantly, and a blonde head appeared over the top of the nest.

“Lena!” Kara exclaimed, reaching toward her with grabby hands.

Lena went willingly, climbing carefully over the blankets and into the red-tinted pillow fort Kara had created. Once she was inside, Kara tucked a blanket over her and then curled into her body, resting practically on top of her as her head found Lena’s chest for a pillow.

“Mmm, this okay?” Kara asked.

Lena sighed, moving a bit until her body fit even better against Kara’s. “This is good.”

“Yeah,” Kara sighed. “You’re so soft. Love you.”

Lena stroked her hair and let out a sigh of her own. “Love you, too.”

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fanart #supercorp big bang #lena luthor #kara danvers #alex danvers #supergirl

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infernal-fire · 3 years

Note

I love your dark Jake Jensen and I have a request for him, so the team gets in contact with reader for supplies for a mission an Jensen feels a spark between them so he makes every excuse to talk to reader to the point the team teased but helps him out with his grand scheme to get with reader but they don't know how far he'd go to make reader his ☺️💕 thanks

I love a good dark!jake fic!! I have changed the specifics a litttllle bit so i hope this is alright :)

Warnings: implied noncon/dubcon, some creepy behaviour, mention of stalking, drugging, mention of breeding kink

Summary: 5 days; that’s how long it takes him to become fixated on you.

Wc: 2k

You’re My Delusion

They could have gone to any supplier. Fate would have it that Aisha wanted you, and only you.

The melodious tune of a piano ringtone chimed in your bag. You ask the other daycare teacher to take over for you and picked up the phone: Unknown Number. You watched the phone ring until the line went dead and resumed your day.

It may have been an ‘unknown number’, but your subconscious unequivocally knew who it was. Grumbling at the thought of being contacted again, you twisted the handle to your condo. Of course, you didn’t bat an eye when there was an envelope on your countertop, one that you didn’t put there; Aisha knew that you knew the phone would ring again, and if you didn’t answer, she would pay you a visit.

When Unknown Number flashed across your screen for the second time that day, you considered letting it go to voicemail again, but picked up anyway.

“Aisha.”

“Y/N.”

“If you’re gonna ask me for an assist-”

Aisha cut you off. “I know you don’t do missions anymore. We need a safe house that’s off the books.”

“Who’s we?”

“They’re all men.” As if on cue, you heard someone guffaw in the background. “It’s making me lose my goddamn mind,” she elucidated.

“You know I don’t really do this stuff anymore,” you huffed, “But I’m making an exception this one time. For you.” You could hear Aisha let out a squeal of happiness, and realized how bad it must be if she uncharacteristically showed excitement.

While cleaning up your old warehouse-turned-safehouse, Aisha’s words echoed in the back of your head. “Some of them are a little... bulky. Let them sleep on the floor.” You tried to protest, asking her, what’s the point of a safehouse if they aren’t resting well, but she dismissed the question. “Trust me. They’re nothing more than cavemen.”

It was 4 AM; foot tapping impatiently and sipping on the third coffee of the night, you smacked your forehead in frustration. It was way past bedtime. After living alongside Aisha for years, anyone would appreciate nights that consist of 8 hours of sleep.

You could certainly appreciate it. Being a daycare teacher, living in a civilian condominium and not engaging in government work was something you couldn’t take for granted. Not after all the shit you’ve seen.

3 brusque knocks sounded on the metal door to your right. Your head snapped to the source, waiting for Aisha to call out the code word.

“LOSERS!” a voice hollered from the other side. You trudged to the door, trying to shake off the dizziness that came with standing up too fast.

Opening the door with caution, you had only blinked a few times before a body pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You’re never this excited to see me. That bad, huh,” you sneered.

“You have no idea.” Aisha pulled out of the hug and turned to face the men who had lined up nearby.

“So… who’s this?” The guy with dirty blonde hair, nerd glasses and a horrible sense of fashion piped up. His whole appearance was an oxymoron to his build - muscles protruded out of the bright pink shirt that hugged him like a second skin. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine him as anything more than a harmless golden retriever.

“Don’t ask as if you don’t know Jensen,” Aisha groused. You could practically hear her roll her eyes.

“What’s your name, darling?” another guy spoke. He exuded the energy of a leader; you looked him straight in the eyes and gave him your name.

The golden retriever repeated your name as if to try out the taste of it on his tongue. You gave him a lopsided, close-mouthed smile and asked Aisha for her teammates’ names.

“You don’t need to learn their names.” She stalked off, unwilling to be a part of the conversation any longer.

The guy you had assumed was the leader sighed at her attitude before introducing himself as ‘Clay’. He pointed at each person and gave you their titles.

“Okay so you’re Clay, that’s Cougar, Roque,” you skipped over Jake, “and Pooch.”

“Me?” Jake softly inquired.

The rest of the team began picking up their things and walking away, but not before Pooch nudged Jensen with his shoulder and winked. The puppy-like man flushed in response and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“What about you?” you asked once you were alone.

“You didn’t say my name.”

“I know it’s Jake… but can I call you ‘daddy’ instead?”

He froze up, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Relax Jakey,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m only teasing.” You winked and strutted away, snickering to yourself at how he looked like he was about to pass out.

The entire team was trying to egg you and Jensen on. Well, not the entire team.

Aisha and Roque couldn’t care less, and Cougar did nothing more than smirk at your playful banter.

Often, Jensen would start a conversation that would escalate quickly, your witty dialogue interrupting his rationale. You thought it was adorable how he didn’t know how to respond; a guy like him could have fantastic game, but he was too much of a sweetheart, not the mention, way too awkward.

One particular night, you let down your guard, just enough to actually get to know him.

“You seem like a really supportive uncle,” you commented at his excitement for his niece’s next soccer game.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I wish my parents would have done this for me.”

“Done what?”

“You know… Tell me they’re proud of me.”

“Well Jake... I think you should know, that I’m proud of you for everything you’re doing for the country.”

Jake looked up at you, sporting the signature look of the uncertainty of how to respond. It didn’t take a genius to be able to tell that he wasn’t used to being praised.

“Thank you. That means a lot more than you know,” he quietly responded.

The rest of the night was spent in a solemn, yet understanding silence, one that both of you were oddly comfortable with.

Unfortunately, that would also be the last time you saw him.

Or so you think.

The mission went sour, and for the first time since retirement, you wished you had assisted. Maybe if you assisted, the mission wouldn’t have gone south. Maybe if you assisted... you would have been able to say goodbye.

Without even realizing it, Jake had burrowed a little hole into your heart. You hoped life could go on with the little leak in your pump. Regardless, there is no time for sulking; after all, no amount of reminiscing would change the way things happened.

It had been months after Aisha and the team went back into hiding but you were faring well. Life as you knew it had continued without a trace of the burly, soft man-baby. You almost forgot about the ordeal, up until that day. Perhaps it was fate that had you switch the TV on at that time. You would never know.

A team of rogue CIA agents, presumed to be dead, have now infiltrated a crime branch operating within the US government. They have been pardoned from their status as “Enemies of State” but can no longer work for the CIA taskforce, as their identities have been indefinitely compromised.

You blinked at the screen, watching Aisha’s name and picture appear. Subsequently, there was Clay, Pooch, Jensen, Cougar and Roque. You were happy for them.

Pooch could go back home to his wife. It was hard to imagine what it must have been like for the missus; pregnant and alone. Though you didn’t know Pooch that well, you knew he was a good partner and husband.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your front door shutting and clicking in place. Your hand frantically pressed the ‘volume up’ button on the TV as you hurled for the handgun under your pillow.

Sliding to the wall beside the door, you cautiously peered into the dark hallway and made out a large figure. You huffed quietly before appearing in the doorframe with your gun pointing straight at the mystery guy. At this point, you had a good idea of who it was, but you wanted to mess with him anyway. “Hands up, and not another step forward.”

He tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. speak,” you punctuated each word. Reaching for the light switch, you flipped on the hallway light. The dim light revealed your golden retriever standing there with his eyes wide open in fear.

“Don’t shoot?” he said, like a question.

You grinned and tucked the gun into your waistband.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought I should come see you.”

“You could have knocked, like a normal person.”

He shrugged sheepishly.

“How do you know where I live?” you questioned. To that, he fiddled with his fingers and looked down.

“Only Aisha knows this place. And I know she would have never told you.” You intently stared at him while leaning into the nearest wall and folding your arms.

Jake didn’t want to tell you that he had been stalking you. Every spare moment he had during the remainder of the mission was spent tracking you. After a few weeks, it felt as though you had moved on. It pained him, to say the least.

“I- uhm,” he looked up at you and took a step forward, “Hey, I just-...” He stopped when you reached for your handgun again, now wary of his intentions.

He put his hands back up.

“I wanted to ask you out properly.”

“What do you mean ‘properly’? We were never going out, to begin with.”

Before you understood the spur of movement, Jake lunged for you and plucked the handgun out of your pyjama’s waistband, throwing it over the railing of your staircase. You tried to kick him, but he pricked you without giving you a moment to react.

“What did you give me?” You clutched your neck in the spot he sunk the needle.

“I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do that,” he exhaled. He tried to hold you, but you weakly pushed him off, still trying to recover from the shock of his betrayal.

“Takes 5 minutes to really work,” he scratched his neck.

Then there was the fight. You gave it your all but with no weapon or leverage, you were going up against 200 pounds of pure muscle who was hell-bent on restraining you for some reason.

2 minutes into the fight, you began to really feel the effects of whatever he gave you. He point-blank caught a punch that you tried to drill into his sternum. You look up at him incredulously, unable to still believe that he was trying to take you down right now.

At last, he snapped.

“Listen to me,” he grasped both your hands.

You momentarily struggled, but your shoulders slumped and you gave up on trying to free your wrists.

“How could you move on without me?” he asked, attempting to look you in your eyes. You wouldn’t meet them.

“Jake, you are delusional! I barely had a crush on you for 5 days,” you cried, letting the wetness spread over your cheeks freely. At this point, it was clear, what he was here for.

“You should know, those 5 days were some of the best in my 29 years of living. I want that for the rest of my life.”

“Why couldn’t you have done this like a normal person?” You finally met his eyes with an excess of tears blurring your vision.

“You keep saying that,” he began, letting go of your arms and wiping your tears, “but you know that you and I are not normal.” Jake leaned down to kiss your forehead.

Your legs were beginning to buckle, but Jake caught you, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He strode into your bedroom as if he had been there a thousand times, put you down on the bed gently, and brushed the hair out of your face.

Here we have Sergeant Linwood ‘Pooch’ and his wife reuniting. It is the first time he has seen her since his last mission, before disappearing. It is also the first time he will be seeing his child. Definitely, an emotion reun-

Your captor turned off the TV and turned to smile at you.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” he asked, but seemed as if he were talking to himself.

You couldn’t respond, all your muscles now refusing to attend to your demands. Instead, more tears streaked down your face.

“A baby,” he whispered, “Yes, that would be nice.”

Masterlist

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butgilinsky · 3 years

Text

someone will ache for your soul // np

warning; a lot of language i’m sry, argument btw best friends, talks abt a shitty ex bf but there’s nothing explicit

summary; in a world where you acquire tattoos across various parts of your body once you fall in love with someone, you have to hide yours from your best friend.

word count; 6.7k+

a/n: kind of a soulmate au but not really i guess? i saw this prompt somewhere online and idk where it’s from so the general idea of gaining tattoos from those you fall in love with is not mine but the rest of the fic is. okay thx bye(:

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When you were younger, you loved it. You loved looking down at your ankle and seeing the small butterfly just beside your ankle. You’d had it your whole life, though you still weren’t entirely sure how a tattoo grew up with you, but you accepted it. After all, it’s all that you knew.

Everybody’s born with a tattoo on their ankle, a small tattoo that has theirselves embedded into it. However, the older you get the more you realize that it’s not the tattoo you’re born with that makes the biggest impact on you, it’s others’. Every time you fall in love with somebody, your skin makes room for their tattoo on it. Your mom’s tattoo, a small star on her left ankle, shined bright from its place on your father’s wrist, somehow separate from the couple tattoos he collected over the years.

You remember the day you found out about the tattoos, perched in your mom’s lap and listening to her talk to your aunt about it. You remember tracing their tattoos with your small fingers while they told you various stories about their loves and how they grew up collecting tattoos on their skin. You were scared, asked your mom what happened if you never got any more than your single tattoo on your ankle. She told you that you would, that anybody would be lucky to collect your small butterfly somewhere on their body.

You remember the day you got your second tattoo, the paper plane that sat on the back of your left shoulder that now held the role as a painful reminder of your first love. You loved Cory, but the time for the two of you had come and gone. The paper airplane, though never in your line of sight, was still a painful reminder of the times you shared with the boy and how he broke your heart at the end of it all just before moving to college.

You had to go through senior year alone, newly broken up with and with your best friend hours away from home. You couldn’t blame Nolan, not when he was out doing the thing he loved so much. Being in Brandon was good for him, it was all that he wanted, and it wasn’t all that far away from Winnipeg anyways. You still drove out to see Nolan’s games, even if it ran up the miles on your car and had you spending late nights driving back home by yourself. You would’ve done anything for Nolan, and it truly showed during your senior year.

Nolan’s draft day was a rude awakening for you. You jumped up when his name was called, hugging him as tight as you possibly could before hiding your giddy expression behind your hands. You were excited for him, even if he was going all the way out to Philadelphia. You wanted him to be happy, and you could tell within seconds of his name being called that he was going to do just fine in Philly.

You didn’t notice until you got home and your heart sank into your stomach. Your adrenaline high had worn off, and the reality of everything around you began to sink in. You knew what it was the second you laid your eyes on it, black lines etched into the skin of your sternum. You thought it was an odd placement, though it was hard to miss it when you stepped out of the shower and it stood tall and proud and ready to be found.

You knew what it was, you’d seen the shape etched into Nolan’s ankle far more times than you could count. It mocked you, the snake coiled up the same way your memory sketched it out in your brain, and now it was imprinted perfectly into your skin. You touched it, rubbed it, tried to wash it off. You had just taken a shower, just washed the day off of you and down the drain and now you were standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, rubbing at the spot between your breasts mercilessly. This couldn’t be happening, not to you, not when Nolan was about to move thousands of miles away from you.

But it was happening, because the black line that followed no real pattern never faded, despite the skin around it turning raw from your insistent attempts at washing it off. It was here to stay, no matter what happened in your life down the road. It didn’t matter that you had no heads up, no warning that you were falling head over heels in love with your best friend.

You knew it wouldn’t wash off, but that didn’t stop you from trying. These tattoos were forever, you knew that. You learned from a ripe, young age about obtaining your love’s tattoo. You learned about it growing up, you talked about it with friends and family, hell this wasn’t even your first tattoo that wasn’t your own. You knew the drill, you knew the routine, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

You were 18, watching him sign contracts and make agreements of his big move in a few short weeks. You couldn’t believe it, that you were losing him in a time like this. It made dropping him off at the airport all that much harder, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot as you clung to him for dear life. You knew his parents wanted to say bye, that his sisters were waiting patiently while you cried into his shoulder, but you couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know about the snake on your sternum, nor did you plan on telling him. You couldn’t drop a bomb like that on him just before he moved to a different country, finally living out the dream he’d had ever since you could remember. Nolan wasn’t Nolan without hockey, and you were aware of that. You were painfully aware of that.

So you didn’t tell him.

You spent too many nights curled up in your bed, clinging to your pillow to muffle the whimpers and whines that pushed through your lips and out into the air. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at any given moment, and you did everything in your power to keep everything under wraps. You couldn’t tell anyone, no matter how bad it hurt to be in love with your best friend that now lived so far away from you.

It was hard, hiding it. You had to hide it from your family and friends, and sometimes that was easy. During the cold months you were seemingly off the hook, but when summer rolled around and your friends dragged you out to the lake every chance they got, you were in a bit of trouble. You had to carefully choose what bathing suits you wore and had to make sure nothing slipped or faltered throughout the day.

You’d made it three years without a slip up. Even on nights when Nolan came home and you were mere inches away from him, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him. Even when he was curled up into your side and holding you against his chest in the most comfortable way, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t make a move on him.

And now you were in Philly, standing in an arena that had you shivering but smiling brightly from the opposite side of the glass. You smiled every time Nolan skated by, even more when he assisted Travis in the first goal of the game and scored one of his own late in the second period. You were buzzing, adrenaline pumping and excitement shining deep in your chest. Watching Nolan do what he loved would never get old, not when the smile he wore was enough to wash away any fear or worry you’ve ever had.

You remember nights when you couldn’t sleep and Nolan would hold you. You remembered nights when you were crying over the phone to him and he snuck out of his room and into your own. You remembered fights you had and the way he made you walk home one night after one of your bigger ones.

You were walking out of TIm Horton’s, mere feet away from Nolan’s car before you tumbled into an argument you’d been trying to avoid for a few days now. You were dating Cory at the time, and Nolan couldn’t believe you were telling him that you couldn’t go to his game on Friday night, regardless of the fact that you’d promised him for weeks now that you’d be there. It was hard for you to catch games during the week, but this one was on a Friday night with plenty of time for you to finish the school day and drive over to Brandon.

But now you were telling him that you couldn’t go, and no matter how sorry you were, Nolan couldn’t forgive you. He said you’d blown him off for Cory more times than he could accept anymore. You had to call your sister, figuring she was the only one that would pick you up and give you a ride home without threatening to leave you in the parking lot in favor of beating Nolan to a pulp.

None of that mattered though. None of it mattered when you were faced with the boy you’d fallen in love with doing the thing he cherished most. When he left the locker room with a smile brighter than any of his teammates had seen in a long time that was directed straight at you, you knew none of it mattered.

Your feet left the ground, hanging in the air while your best friend clung to your frame tightly. He thanked you for coming, told you that he scored the goal just for you, that he scored every goal for you. You figured it was the adrenaline talking, that he was just basking in the big win against their biggest rivals. That plus the fact that Nolan could barely come to terms with the fact that you were here all for him.

You’d been in Philly before, had visited Nolan a few times over his years with the Flyers. You’d met practically everyone there was to meet and had gotten fairly close with his closest friends by default, seeing as they were always around when you were. Everything was going well this time around, everyone was having fun and getting along and it almost seemed like nothing could fall out of place.

You were standing in the kitchen with Nolan and Travis when Nolan’s name was called, beckoning him out into the rest of the house while you and Travis rallied drinks for the group. He tried to ignore them, tried to help you pile up on wine and beers for the rest of the group but Travis practically kicked him out of the kitchen. Travis said he could help you, that the two of you didn’t need Nolan’s help and that someone else clearly did.

It took all of five minutes for Travis to spill red wine all over your shirt. Thankfully for him, the few glasses you’d thrown back throughout the night washed over any sense of anger or annoyance you’d usually pick up and you simply laughed it off. He felt so bad, begged you to forgive him and let you buy him a new shirt, but all you did was insist that he find you a new one for now and that you could figure out the rest of it when the two of you weren’t tipsy and surrounded by your friends.

Travis ducked out of the kitchen for a second before turning back up and leading you into a hallway on the other end of the house. He told you that Claude never really let them wander his house without a little supervision, claiming that they break everything that they touch, but this was a special case. Claude loved you, and he wasn’t going to let you walk around with a wine stained shirt for the rest of the night, especially when it’s Travis’s fault in the first place.

You laid back on the bed in the room you were unfamiliar with, smiling up at the ceiling and humming to yourself while Travis dug through Claude’s closet.

“I know Ryanne has a stack of those shirts somewhere.” he spoke gently to himself, refraining from throwing clothes all over the room and instead digging for one through multiple piles. You laughed to yourself, not even sure if he knew that you could hear him.

“Just pick one, Teeks!” he huffed and chucked one at you, laughing loudly when it landed directly on your face.

You whined and sat up, reaching for the hem of your shirt without much thought surrounding the subject before peeling it off. All you could think about was how sticky your stomach had gotten from the red spot.

It was the small gasp that got you, the one that brought you back down to Earth and tore you out of your wine-induced haze. It was Travis’s eyes locked in on the spot in the middle of your chest that triggered every panic siren in between your ears.

“Is that-”

“TK you can’t tell him.” you rushed out, pushing yourself to stand up as you pressed a bright orange Flyers shirt against your chest. Your hands were shaking, and Travis’s eyes were glued to the spot of the tattoo even without being able to see it anymore. He knew what that snake was, he knew it all too well. He’d known Nolan for a long time now, and he’d seen the snake enough times to commit it to memory.

He was sure you had Nolan’s snake in the middle of your chest, and now Travis knew you were in love with Nolan.

“Trav, I’m serious.” he shook his head, trying to clear himself of the intrusive thoughts and nodded gently. He couldn’t tell Nolan. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep that from him, especially when he had been looking for your tattoo on Nolan’s skin for years now.

Travis wasn’t dense. He saw the way that Nolan looked at you, heard the tone he used when he talked about you. He saw how excited Nolan got when he knew you were about to fly into Philly, and he saw how upset Nolan got when you left. He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that there was something lying under the surface of you and Nolan’s friendship.

He tried to have this conversation before, had tried more times than he could count at this point. The only difference now was that there was hard proof, there was evidence that he was right all along. But now he couldn’t use that evidence, not when you were looking at him with wide eyes and begging him to keep it between the two of you.

“Fine, but we’re talking about this before you go back home.” you nodded, figuring that it was good enough for you if it meant he never told Nolan about it.

Except, there was one small problem.

The door swung open, dark and narrowed eyes landing on you and Travis, less than a foot between the two of you with you topless, a single shirt held between your hands and in front of your chest.

“My best friend?” the disappointment in his voice tugged at your heart and punched you in the gut simultaneously. The guilt hanging in your chest was barely justified, given this was one large misunderstanding, but the look on Nolan’s face was enough to have your shoulders falling.

“Nolan, it’s not-”

“My best fucking friend? Of all people you had to choose him?” his eyes were wide and glued to yours, anger mixing with disgust in the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe you’d do this to him.

“Pat, you don’t understand-”

“Fuck you.” Nolan spoke slowly and clearly, shooting Travis the sharpest glare he could produce. His voice sent a chill down your spine, unsure if you had ever heard him speak with such malice. “Both of you.”

Nolan spun on the balls of his feet and left the room, but you didn’t let him get far before you were following him. You tugged the shirt over your head, not even bothering to turn back to Travis to apologize before you were running after Nolan, calling his name down the hallway.

“Nolan, please-”

“I don’t want to hear it, honestly.” he threw over his shoulder, but you weren’t accepting that. You weren’t going to let him walk away right now, not when you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Just listen to me!” you stopped walking, stopped running. You stood in the middle of a hallway that had pictures lining the walls around you. Smiling faces and cheery laughs suffocated you in a time where you stood toe to toe with your best friend, the same one who was looking down at you like he’d never known you. “You don’t get to assume things and just walk away!”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to come out here after not seeing me for six months and sleep with my best friend! You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to use me to sleep with professional athletes.” any words you had swimming through your mind halted at his accusation. They fizzled out, unable to produce a coherent thought after you heard your best friend accuse you of using him.

“After all this time, you think i’m using you? You think that I came here to sleep with Travis?”

“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve always used me. You used me to escape your awful boyfriend in high school and you used me to leave home when things got bad. You used me to get over your shitty boyfriend when he left you in the fucking dust and here you are now, using me to sleep with my best fucking friend.” you were in shock, lips parted and throat constricting as you tried to let his words sit.

“If you wanted to whore yourself out to NHL players, you should’ve just said so, puck bunny.” The nickname weighed heavily in your chest, bringing you back to a time where Nolan went on and on about how much puck bunnies got under his skin. It brought you back to a time when Nolan would never call you that, would never even put you and the name in the same conversation.

“Patty!” Nolan’s eyes left yours, casting over your shoulder and locking with another pair that he might have been more furious at. Sure, he was angry at you. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this, not after growing up with him just a few houses down. He couldn’t believe you’d stoop this low, but Travis? Travis knew how Nolan felt about you. Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he’d never say that was all true, Travis knew. He knew better than anyone how Nolan felt, and that made it all the more worse.

“Don’t talk to her like that.” you bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting slightly but you couldn’t look away from where your eye level left you. You couldn’t look up at Nolan, not when he was this angry at you, and you surely couldn’t look at Travis. You knew that’d only make things worse.

“Now you get to tell me how to talk to her? Does that mean the two of you are a thing now? That’s funny, seeing as you have a girlfriend, Teeks. Didn’t know you were into home wrecking, y/n.”

“Fuck you.” you spoke softly, not even sure if he had heard you before he looked down at you with a puzzled look stretched across his face.

“So I can pick up TK’s sloppy seconds? No thanks, angel.” you shoved him then, shoved him hard. He didn’t move much due to the way his feet dug into the ground and he had muscle on you, but you got your point across by the force delivered to his chest.

“You’re a dick, you know that? You walk into a room and think you know everything that’s going on, but you don’t, okay? You don’t know what happens when you’re gone. You don’t know what happened in there or what happens at home when you’re here. You don’t know anything, okay?”

“That’s bold, given that I just walked in on you topless, seconds away from kissing my best friend, y/n-”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to keep reminding me that Travis is your best friend?”

“Because I need you to know that you’re not.”

The world titled on its axis then, the rude awakening you’d walked into becoming all too much for you to handle. With the realization that Nolan wanted nothing to do with you, you nodded once and walked around him so you could leave. It was only then that you noticed the audience you’d gathered, the better half of the Flyers roster circled around the room with a few of their significant others. You flashed everyone a pained smile and thanked Claude and Ryanne for inviting you before leaving the house.

You weren’t even down the driveway when your lungs gave way, gasping for air while tears streamed down your cheeks. Your heart hurt and your stomach turned, and you knew it was going to be a long night.

“You really are a dick.” Travis was going to walk past him, was going to avoid the lot of people and follow you outside. He knew you didn’t know where you were, nor did you have a way to get to or from anywhere else. You could order an uber to Nolan’s, but then what? Kevin might let you into the apartment but where would you stay? On the couch in a living room you weren’t welcome in? Not likely.

“I’m the dick? You know how I feel about her!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit, TK! I know that look on your face and I know that she sure as hell looked embarrassed-”

“I spilt wine on her shirt, you fucking idiot! I knocked into her when we were in the kitchen and I made her entire glass of wine spill down the front of her shirt, so I went to get her another one. I didn’t want her to sit in a soaking wet, stained shirt for the rest of the night so I went to get her another.”

“And she changed in front of you because-?”

“Because she was drunk and knew I wouldn’t make a move on her. Because she knows that I respect you and care about you far more than I care about making a move on her. I don’t look at her that way, Pat. You know I would never do that to you.” Nolan sucked on his teeth then, casting his eyes away from Travis’s and looking down at his feet.

“Do I?” Travis scoffed then, not bothering to give Nolan a response before walking past everybody else and out to his car.

After a few minutes of driving around, he found you at the park just down the street, leaning against the chain that supported the swing you sat on. He couldn’t see your tears from his car, but he could see the way you flinched when he shut the car door behind him.

“You okay?” you shook your head, eyes filled to the brim with tears that blurred your vision and broke Travis’s heart.

“I’m in love with him, Teeks. I love him more than anything in this entire world and he thinks I’m using him. He t-thinks- he thinks I-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Travis pulled you onto your feet and into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you in order to attempt to calm you down.

“He thinks-” your sobs rang through the air, piercing through Travis’s heart and resulting in him squeezing you tighter, letting you get all of it out while no one else was around.

“He doesn’t think that. He knows you’re not using him, he just can’t bear to think about you with anybody other than him.” you shook your head, not allowing yourself to believe Travis, even though he knew Nolan pretty well. If there was anything to know about Nolan, you or Travis would know about it.

“He loves you, okay? He loves you more than he knows how to handle and he can’t handle losing you before he’s even had you.” you flinched when a car backfired, jumping inches off of the ground and making Travis laugh gently from beside you when you let out a shaky breath of relief.

Your eyes found the familiar car drive by, slowing down the slightest bit by the park only to take off towards the entrance of the neighborhood quite quickly. You knew it was Nolan, you knew that car by heart.

You ended up on Travis’s couch the night, wrapped in a warm pair of sweatpants that Travis threw in the dryer for you before giving them to you. You tied the drawstring in a tight knot so they’d stay up and pulled on a hoodie that he offered to you shortly after. He listened to you reminisce on all of the memories you had with Nolan. He learned more about his best friend and who he was growing up, but also learned a fair amount about you as well.

He felt for you. He couldn’t believe Nolan said all of those things to you, but he also knew that Nolan must not be doing well right now. He texted Kevin when he got back to his apartment, saying that you were safe with him, and that he’d text Nolan but didn’t for obvious reasons. Kevin assured Travis he’d let Nolan know you were safe, despite Nolan not asking about your well being. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured if he asked he’d be left with a less than likable answer.

Nolan didn’t sleep well that night, replaying how bad he fucked up over and over again in his mind. He didn’t believe you at first, didn’t even believe Travis when he told him what truly happened. He did, however, believe his captain when he said that Travis asked him for a shirt for you just a few minutes before it all happened. Ryanne brought out your wine soaked shirt after the two of you had left, and despite Nolan coming to terms with the fact that he was wrong, he couldn’t forgive himself for the things he said to you.

He couldn’t believe he accused you of it all before going on to accuse you of using him for your benefit. He knew it was stupid, since you’d been around far before the NHL. you were there when he got drafted, you were there when he was named captain of the Wheat Kings, and you were there when he almost quit hockey when he was younger. He remembered having you by his side through everything growing up and even now, even while living so far away from each other. If he called, you answered. If he needed help, you helped him. Hockey had nothing to do with that.

He looked down at the butterfly on his thigh, the one that took residence right beside another one of his tattoos, one that he had to keep hidden from you for well over two years now. He traced his finger over the small image, let his mind wander over all the possibilities of where yours could be if you had a snake somewhere inked into your skin. It’s a thought he often had, wondering where you’d want it, if you’d want it.

By the time Nolan came to his senses, it was too late. He’d already gotten through an entire practice and by the time he got back, by the time he got home, he realized you were gone. Your things that were piled into a corner of his room were gone. The jersey he’d given you for the game against the pens was folded up nicely on the pillow of his bed and a sticky note with your unmistakeable handwriting on it left a hole in his chest.

I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me.

He couldn’t reach for his phone fast enough, couldn’t call you enough times to break your voicemail box. He called Travis, pained to hear that you were already on a flight back to Winnipeg. He wanted to leave, wanted to drive to the airport right this second and catch a flight back home to tell you he’s incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t. He had a roadie in a few days and a game tomorrow night and he couldn’t just leave.

He did his best to contact you, tried to call every person in your family and was disappointed every time. Even when both of his sisters sat down and called him to collectively tell him that he was the biggest idiot either of them had ever met. Nobody could believe Nolan blew you off like that, not even Nolan himself.

He knew he fucked up, but he hadn’t realized how bad he fucked things up until one of your friends from back home posted a picture of you on social media a few months later. It had been at least four months since he’d spoken to you, since he saw you. It had been too long of him having nothing but the sliver of content he got from social media. He hated that his friends had chosen your side in the thick of it all, though he guessed it was easier to do that with him in Philadelphia and the rest of you in the same place.

But it wasn’t until a picture of you with a wide smile and a new bathing suit popped up on his phone that he knew the true weight of the situation in front of him. There you were, in a baby blue bathing suit that showed the same shape between your breasts that he’d grown up with beside his ankle. His tattoo was committed to memory, ingrained into his brain with no room to forget about it, especially when he saw it on you, etched into your skin the same way it had been etched into his.

He thought back to the paper airplane on your shoulder, the mark that had haunted him for years. He hated your boyfriend, hated the sight of his tattoo on your skin. He hated everything that had to do with the sheer thought of you with somebody else, even if he didn’t know how to deal with that. And now, with his thumb sitting on the butterfly on his thigh and his eyes on the snake on your sternum, he knew he had to fix this. He knew he had to fix things because these tattoos, though permanent themselves, didn’t guarantee him a life as your boyfriend, nor your husband.

Nolan remembered a time when he thought these tattoos were stupid. He remembered when he thought it was a thing for soulmates and you told him that thought was wrong, that it just reminded you of a love you felt, even if it was eventually lost. He remembers you telling him that you were scared you’d never be loved forever, that you were scared to only be loved momentarily.

But that wasn’t the case. Nolan would never stop loving you. He couldn’t forget about the way your laugh brightened his day without question, or the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. He couldn’t forget about the way you bugged him for ice cream on a bad day, or how good you looked with his name and number stretched across your back.

He couldn’t remember a day he wasn’t in love with you.

So Nolan flew to Winnipeg the second the Flyers’ season was over. He didn’t bask in getting knocked out of the playoffs like some of the other guys, didn’t dwell on the loss in the sixth game of the series because he couldn’t. He couldn’t dwell on a loss when he was so focused on trying to prevent a second one.

He had called everybody he could think of once he got off the plane. Some didn’t answer, some didn’t know the answer to his question, and some just flat out refused to humor him. You weren’t home, he knew that much by the absence of your car in the driveway and your sister telling him that you weren’t there, and that she wouldn’t let him inside even if you were. It wasn’t until he rounded a familiar corner after a phone call he’d been thankful for.

Jordan told him where you were, unable to lie to his childhood friend when you were hanging out with everyone. You were wearing a bathing suit again, though it didn’t matter for a while. The sun was high in the air and you weren’t the only that had shed yourself of your coverup earlier in the afternoon. You were playing basketball with Jordan, oblivious to the fact that he’d given you up just ten minutes prior to the gate door swinging open and Nolan letting himself into the backyard.

Your eyes found him easily, as if he was a magnet you could never repel. Your shoulders fell for a moment, your instinct of wanting to comfort him seeping in before you could tell it not to. Of course you kept up with his team, watching every game you possibly could until the very last one. You knew he’d been knocked out of the playoff less than 48 hours ago, and you had no idea he was coming home.

You hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until you noticed his eyes locked in on your chest. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover the snake, but it didn’t make Nolan look anywhere else.

“Who told you I was here?” your voice was soft. You knew he didn’t drive around the entire town looking for your car, though you weren’t sure it was something too far out of his reach. Nolan would do just about anything to get something if he wanted it bad enough.

“Bo did.” you glared at the boy not far from you, the one that you shouldn’t have trusted with something like this in the first place. You should’ve known Jordan would do something like this.

“Patty, what the fuck?”

“Just shut up, Bo.” Jordan rolled his eyes and tossed the basketball to Nolan who smacked it away and into the grass.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” you tried to stand your ground, even with Jordan giggling to himself before walking over to your friends not too far from where you currently stood.

“Just give me five minutes.”

Nolan’s eyes bore into yours, the same pair of bright blue eyes that you had been avoiding for months. You wanted to answer every call and every text, but how could you? How could you pick up the phone and listen to his voice through the speaker after all he’d said to you in front of his entire team. And then on top of it all, he left you stranded in Philly, in the middle of a city, country even, where you had nobody to turn to and nowhere to go.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Then leave, Nols.” he shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I hurt you-”

“You’re right! You hurt me! You hurt me so bad Nolan and I can’t go through that again so if you’re here to let history repeat itself, then can you just go?” he shook his head, firmly planting his feet into the ground and refusing to move.

“I know you don’t want to see me or listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt but I need you to hear me out.” you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side. You weren’t sure how he seemingly broke down all of your walls without even lifting a finger. You watched his eyes flick down to the image on your chest, you even let him raise a finger once he stood in front of you and trace the shape of the snake. “It suits you, y’know?”

“Did you really come all this way to tell me that this suits me?” there was a hint of amusement in your voice, enough of it to bring a smile to Nolan’s lips.

“I know I fucked up-”

“Big time.” you cut him off, shooting him a gentle smile and nod that told you you’d stop interrupting him. “Sorry, continue.”

“I know I fucked up and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean and that’s not an excuse but- look, I know i shouldn’t have said all of that shit. I should’ve believed the two of you. I should’ve believed you when you told me nothing happened and I shouldn’t have said you were using me. I know you’re not using me. There was no way you could’ve known that I was going to be in the NHL, and you wouldn’t have stuck around all this time just to be a puck bunny.”

It wasn’t like you to forgive all that easily. You drew lines in the sand and refused to let someone fuck you over twice. You weren’t big on second chances, especially when you thought people didn’t deserve them. You were a straight shooter, no bullshit. But those walls cracked for Nolan, they fell for Nolan. None of your boundaries were drawn in place with Nolan in mind. He had broken down every wall, overstepped every boundary since the day he met you. You couldn’t block him out, couldn’t lead him out of your life.

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Nolan Patrick. You were in love with Nolan Patrick.

And the little butterfly on his thigh told you that he loved you all the same.

Your lips turned up at the sight, your eyes locked in on the place where his shorts had ridden up and the small image danced happily on his skin.

“How long have you had that?” you pointed down at it, barely noticing the way his eyes stayed trained on you through the entirety of the situation. You were looking at his tattoo, but he was looking at you. He was always looking at you, which only made it that much more surprising that he hadn’t picked up on the snake on your chest.

“Since before I got drafted.” he spoke softly, hitting you with a force you didn’t know existed. You were floored by the realization, somewhat thinking that he’d only had it for a small bit of time. You’d seen his thighs, seen his tattoos and you’d never seen the small butterfly etched into his skin.

“How long have you had that?” his finger traced over the snake one more time, sending a chill down your spine that you had felt more times than you could count when you were around Nolan. It was a feeling that was never expected but always welcome.

“Draft day.” you breathed out, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders. You were finally admitting it, finally letting the love of your life know just how long you’ve been a mess for him. Little did you know how much of a mess he was for you.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“It’s okay.” you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips at the realization that things were falling back into place, even after all this time of not talking to him.

“It’s okay?” you nodded, taking another step toward him so you were chest to chest.

“As long as you don’t fuck it up again.” he let out a small laugh, his hands finding the sides of your face just before pressing his lips to yours.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!!

nolpat tag list; @extratragic @babytkachuks @teenagekook @stfukie @kiedhara @sadcupofcoffee @sidscrosbyy @rebel-without-care @baby-cat-nol-pat @creator-appreciator

tagging the himbos as well; @bricksatlandyswindow @damndunner @anxietyandtacos @sortagaysortahigh @dmonchld

#nolan patrick #nolpat #nolan x reader #nolan patrick x reader #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey #hockey imagine #philadelphia flyers #flyers

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Fixer Upper PART THREE (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: Now you’re faced with an option after Frankie left a tool at your house. How do you make your feelings for Frankie known?

W/C: 2k

Warnings: language, Benny is a menace, fluff :)

A/N: THE THRILLING CONCLUSION! Thank you all for tagging along!

You hardly slept last night. Your mind was filled with the handsome repairman, his smile and his laughter and the fact that he left a vital piece of his equipment in your house. It had to be a sign, right?

Whether or not it was a purposeful move is the question that tormented you until the early hours of the morning. He was a great man, most definitely, but did he mean his jokes and assistance in a way beyond the professionalism he had to have? You couldn’t figure out, and it left you tossing and turning like you had when the air conditioner was broken.

In the morning, you still aren’t quite sure what to make of it. You’d thought that sleeping on it might bring some sense of clarity, but it really hasn’t. Enjoying the cold air of your newly fixed air conditioner, you stare at the wall as you sip your morning coffee. Is there even a solid answer? You’re not entirely sure.

Well, whether or not you’re going to make a move, you suppose he’s going to need that wrench. Lifting your phone, you dial the shop’s number, which is now saved into your speed dial list.

“Standard Oil and Heating,” a man’s voice sounds from the phone, “this is Benny.”

“Hi,” you say with a somewhat cheerful voice. “Uh, is Catfish in today?” You ask the man.

“Gimme one second,” the man murmurs. You can hear paper flipping, as he looks through something on the desk. “Uh, can I ask why you’re calling?” He clarifies.

“Oh, of course. He fixed my oven yesterday and he left one of his tools behind.”

The man- Benny- chuckles. “Oh, you’re the one with the fucked-up house! We’ve heard about you.”

That makes you laugh, but more importantly, makes your stomach flutter nervously. Frankie’s mentioned you to his coworkers. Whether it was in passing or in depth, you don’t know, but he’s mentioned you. Talked about you. “Yeah, that would be me,” you shrug and sip your coffee.

There’s another shuffling of paper and the man makes a small noise of discontent. “Well, it looks like he won’t be in today for whatever reason, but he’ll be here tomorrow. If you wanna bring it in, I can give it to him.”

You pause, then shake your head. Even though he can’t see it, you’re sure he can figure it out. “That’s alright. I’ll just bring it in tomorrow then.”

Benny chuckles a little. “I think he’ll like that. Do you want me to let him know?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just pop in when I have the time,” you say casually, as if you’re not about to rearrange your entire day around to do so. The note from Benny- I think he’ll like that- makes your smile widen.

“No problem. We’ll see ya then,” he tells you and nods before hanging up.

Well, now you have about twenty four hours before you have to return that wrench. The decision before you still hangs heavy in the air. There’s a good chance he likes you, especially if the man who answered the shop phone was right. His words were subtle but hinting, and the idea was that Frankie has talked about you.

But what if he hasn’t? What if he just mentioned that you have a chronically disastrous house and that was the end of the story? God, there are so many questions, and it makes you annoyed to no end. You groan aloud, grateful to live alone, and drop your head to the cool wood of your kitchen table.

Love is too complicated. Can you even categorize it as love right now? Maybe it’s more of an affection situation. There are too many labels for things, too many variables and ifs and whens. Too many reasons things can go right or can go very very wrong.

Worst of all, if Frankie doesn’t feel the same, you lose a damn good repairman. Well, he’s a good guy. You’re sure he’d still help, but that banter and laughter would certainly be gone. The relationship you have now would be thrown out the window, which you may one day need him to fix.

You have a job, and you do your work as the day progresses, but Frankie’s face takes up permanent residence in the back of your mind, unable to let you focus well. Even as you snag a spare monster cookie during your lunch break, you think of him and how warmly he helped you after you burned yourself.

Your decision wavers back and forth. You have periods of definitiveness, moments where you’re certain you’re going to make a move and moments where you decide you’re going to do nothing at all. It’s agonizing, your inability to make a decision.

Finally, you reach the best conclusion you think you can have. When you drop off the wrench tomorrow, you’ll just read the room. You’ll carefully observe his body language, the way he speaks, and try to take the clues you can find in person. Yeah, that should work. It’s probably the best option too.

Settling in bed, you take a while to fall asleep, pondering possibilities. Eventually, you fall asleep and even your dreams are filled with confusion and twists, a theme of uncertainty filling your unconscious mind.

Then the morning comes. You get dressed into something you’d normally wear to go out running errands. You don’t want anything too cute, anything too casual or sloppy. Even then, you change t-shirts three times until you remind yourself it’s nothing of consequence.

You drink your to-go coffee as you drive to the shop, which you’ve surprisingly never been to in person. For as much as you use their services, you’ve never seen the building. Walking inside, you peek around and find no one. Taking a deep breath and making yourself relax, you ring the buzzer on the desk that sounds in the back.

A man comes to the front, wearing working clothes and a tool belt. His outfit is similar to Frankie’s, but he’s omitted the ball cap. “Hi,” he comments, slightly confused.

“Hey, I’m here for Catfish?” You ask, looking through the window behind the desk that shows the back of the shop. You hold up the wrench, hoping that gives a little indication.

“Oh! You’re her!” The man nods, blue eyes brightening and blonde scruff moving with his smile. “I’m Benny, the one you talked to yesterday.”

He offers his hand and you shake it, smiling and introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too! Fish loves when he gets sent to your place,” he chuckles. “Are you here… just to drop off the wrench?” He asks, implying the very thing that you spent the whole night pondering.

“Hopefully not,” you shrug nervously, an awkward smile on your face.

Benny nods and shoots you a knowing smile. “Fish really likes you. I’ll just spoil that one for you,” he laughs. “The guy’s like a brother. I can read him damn well. Okay, enough of that. I’ll send him out here, or do you wanna come on back?”

“I’ll come back with you?” You say, half-questioning and half-stating. The man waves you along and you follow him into the back.

“Fish,” Benny calls, and Frankie’s head pops up from a tool bench. He’s facing away from the two of you.

“What do you want?” He grumbles, not turning. He’s too focused on whatever he’s tinkering with, using pliers and wire and tape.

“God, you’re an asshole, Frank. Sure you don’t wanna leave?” He asks you jokingly.

At the question being directed elsewhere, Frankie turns and his eyes widen as he spots you. “Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks. Benny respectfully backs out of the room without saying anything, allowing the two of you to have your conversation.

“You left your wrench,” you chuckle and awkwardly hold it up.

“Oh, that’s where I left it,” Frankie says, though you learn that he’s a terrible liar through the tone of his voice. “Thanks for bringing that back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure him and smile.

There’s a beat of silence before the both of you try to speak. Neither of you manage to get anything out before you realize the other is speaking. Then you stumble over your words, each of you assuring the other that they go. Then there’s more of that, letting the other speak, and silence, then he breaks it.

“I, uh, left that on purpose,” he admits, face reddening beneath the brim of his blue ball cap.

“Well, I wanted to bring it back specifically to say that I really like you,” you admit and fold your arms awkwardly.

His face practically lights up, looking up at you with a mixture of love and shock and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod and place the wrench down on the work table in front of him. “What time do you work until tonight? Would you like to come back to my cursed house and I’ll make dinner?” You offer, leaning against his table.

Frankie grins. “I’d love that, yeah. I’ll bring my tool belt just in case,” he chuckles, which makes you genuinely laugh and in turn widens his smile. “You don’t have to make anything though.”

“I will though,” you shrug, your body loosening now that the tension is gone. He feels the same. “Now that my oven is working, we’re all good.”

He chuckles and looks down at the wiring piece he was working on before looking back at you like he’d look at a gorgeous work of art. “I work until 5. Sometime after that?” He offers.

“Seven it is. Do you have any food restrictions?”

He shakes his head. “I eat anything and everything in massive amounts,” he chuckles. “I’m sure anything you make would be great.”

“Well, I’ll text you what I’m making if I can have your phone number,” you offer, a little confidence boosting from the fact that he clearly reciprocates your feelings.

“Yeah,” he grins and takes your phone when you hand it to him, entering his contact. Fix-it Frankie: cell, 589-283-1975.

“Fix-it Frankie?” You laugh and beam at him. “God, you’re a dope.”

He shrugs and blushes but he’s still clearly happy, more than willing to take your teasing. “Alright, I gotta keep working on this, but I’ll walk you out,” he offers and stands.

The two of you walk to the front and Frankie opens the door for you. You walk outside and he follows. “Well, see you tonight,” you grin at him.

“See you then,” he nods.

The two of you go for the hug, but awkwardly dodge to each side, trying to figure out the proper angle. When the gap between your bodies finally closes, you realize neither of you considered your faces. They’re awkwardly smushed together, lips on lips. You’re kissing.

“Oh no,” you laugh and back up, cupping Frankie’s face and softly scratching at the stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frankie mutters, embarrassed but laughing as he looks into your eyes.

Your face is still close to his, your bodies in a hugging position. “Well, we better do that right,” you giggle.

Frankie nods, his cheeks hurting from how much you’ve made him smile. It falls as his face closes the distance to yours, kissing you gently and sighing into your lips.

The moment is short, soft and sweet. You’re in public and fully conscious of it, and you don’t want to seem weird. When you break away, you kiss his cheek, admiring the scratch of his beard against your lips. “See you tonight, Fix-it Frankie,” you tease and walk off to your car.

“See you!” He calls and raises one large hand in a wave. He’s still flustered as you drive off and wiggle your fingers at him in a similar wave. His eyes follow your car until it’s out of sight.

Frankie walks back inside and rolls his eyes at the sight of his blonde best friend staring at him. “Don’t you even-“

“Hell yeah!” Benny whoops and holds up the wrench as if it were a victory prize.

“Shut the fuck up,” he frowns and snatches it from his hand, tucking it back in his tool belt.

As annoyed as he is by Benny, he can’t be mad. He has a date tonight with a woman he already knows can cook and hold her own in such a shitty house- well, aside from repairs. Thank God for faulty air conditioning.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal @sugarontherims@floraandfrost @donnaa @heythere-mel @sharkbait77 @mrs-ghuleh @ubri812 @punkerthanpascal @booksandcoff-ee

#frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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loveofafangirl · 3 years

Photo

A Promise

[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist]

Pairing: Baron Zemo x F!Reader/You (no race or body type described)

Synopsis: You accompany Zemo to the Sokovia Memorial. *Hurt/Comfort*

Background: After protecting a child in Latvia, Zemo offers you his services to assist with tending to your wounds. You invite him to stay the night at your home. This is a follow up to The Right Thing. It can probably be read as a standalone, but it is the same reader/character from that story and picks up the next morning.

Word Count: ~2,000

TW: mentions of previous character death/death of a child; grief centric; angst with uncertain ending.

A/N: I know my fluffy Zemo stories are more popular but in my HC, you don’t get Soft!Zemo without putting in the work and helping him through his deep-rooted grief. So it’s important to me to explore this side of him too, as there is no redemption possible without it. My HC is that you can read this reader throughout almost all of the stories.

The floorboards in your old apartment creak in the quiet of the morning, you strain your ears, listening to your guest's movements. You continue preparing breakfast, hopeful that he might join you, but the footsteps lead away instead of nearer.

You follow the sound, noting how the area where he had slept had since been tidied.

"You don't have to leave," you offer with a subtle shrug as you approach the entrance. "Stay...at least for breakfast."

His lips pull at the corners as he nods in contemplation, but you can tell by the strained expression he had already decided to go. "Thank you for the hospitality, but I must depart."

His hand taps almost subconsciously over one of the inner pockets of his long dark grey coat. Your mind drifts back to the previous night when he had offered the garment to you. You had noticed a small bear tucked inside. You had been curious but hadn't wished to pry.

"There is something I must do," he stated solemnly.

You nod your understanding. You knew he wouldn't stay; why would he? Nevertheless, something inside of you begged you not to let him go. You watch as he continues toward the door. At the last moment, you take a quick step forward.

"Wait!" You blurt out with more volume than you had intended. "Do you want company?"

"Where I'm going, I don't anticipate having much time left." He turns back toward you. "I have a promise to keep and then—" he pauses, knowing what he has to do, knowing his freedom was only ever a short-term gift, one he would exchange when his work was complete. He continues, "—I have an agreement to honor."

You look away, trying to school the disappointment on your face until you realize he hadn't entirely said no. You feel a slight rise of hope as you study his features. You sense the heaviness in his heart in his sunken gaze, despite the mischievous smirk toying on his lips. "I could use some air, even if it isn't that long."

He inhales, considering your offer. Neither of you fully understand the curious feeling growing inside; yet, both of you are reluctant to ignore it and part so soon. He nods thoughtfully. "I've called for the car. It will take us where I need to go."

Your eyes grow inquisitively at his words. You had assumed the place was nearby. But more so, the ease in which he mentions such a luxury takes you by surprise. Not many from your neighborhood could afford such a thing.

You grab your coat and follow him out into the streets. You pause as you near the black car, questioning for the first time if this is a wise decision. Your thoughts are pulled back as he opens the side door, motioning you inside.

Your face warms at the gesture. It wasn't often you encountered manners such as his. He was different, and that intrigued you.

He closes the door carefully behind you before walking around and joining you on the other side.

"The memorial, if you please." These are the only words spoken for the duration of the trip.

You watch your city fade away to the countryside that eventually gave way into a bareness. Despite the years since the battle, the land had yet to recover fully. Some new growth highlighted the landscape, but much was still bleak and lifeless.

Every now and then, you stole a glance at the man beside you, deep in contemplation. Occasionally, he would record his thoughts in a small notebook that he kept guarded.

As the car arrives at the memorial, you wait, watching for him to take the lead, not really knowing what to expect.

His hand pauses as he reaches for the door handle. You watch his deliberate movements, almost forcing himself forward.

The grief drawn on his face pulls your own features down in reply. You wonder for the first time whom he had lost.

He nods to himself as if willing his body to continue and leave the car.

You linger with the intent of giving him a moment. However, to your surprise, he opens your door for you and gestures you out.

You take in the expansive memorial to the fallen country. A lake to the right had formed as the land resettled. A monument at the center with a serene trickling fountain welcomed you quietly.

But what caught your attention most was the wall of names. The Avengers had saved a lot of people that day, but the list of the dead was longer than you expected. Your stomach drops at the realization as your gaze scans the seemingly endless wall. The news covered the victory and the destruction, but it did little to prepare you for this truth. The cost of human lives should have outweighed any other press, but it didn't.

You whisper a silent prayer to honor the dead, knowing so many of them may no longer have anyone to remember them.

He stands beside you, his gaze distant.

"It's beautiful." The words slip from your lips in reverence. The memorial was simple yet powerful. You couldn't help but feel the weight of the loss standing before the massive wall in the distance, but the fountain and the lake helped ground you. "I wonder who designed it."

"I did," he replies, his voice marred with pain. "I may be a man without a country now; but, it is still my duty to care for the ashes of my beloved land and all those who were lost... and those I failed to protect."

The more he talked, the less you realized you knew about him. He spoke of Sokovia with deep admiration as though he were once a significant member of its ruling body. You wonder how a man who seemingly had so much ended up hiding in the shadows of your city. The sorrow in his expression answered your question. Loss. Loss cuts more deeply than any physical wound ever could.

"It's beautiful," you repeat quietly. You know that no matter what you offer, it will never be enough to satiate his loss.

He doesn't acknowledge your reply; instead, he continues forward, heading toward the end of the list of names.

You stay near the fountain, giving him space and privacy to mourn. You try to turn away, but you can't help but continue glancing in his direction. You want more than anything to understand him.

You watch his body grow rigid, the color draining from his face. He leans against the wall for support, his fingers tracing a line of names. He reaches in his pocket and retrieves the small bear. His hands shake as he looks between the toy and the wall.

You press your fingers to your lips, wondering what memories the token holds for him. You could practically see this man's heart breaking in front of you.

His knees buckle under the weight of his grief until he crumbles to the ground, clutching the bear tightly in his hands. Despite being hidden by his jacket, you see his body rock as he weeps silently, his suffering too great to bear.

This man who confidently came to your rescue, who despite his mysterious nature had offered an air of self-assuredness in all that he did, was now broken in a way you realize only the loss of a young child could cause.

You move silently behind him, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The two of you might be strangers still but, you knew he needed to know he wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," he cries quietly, though you know the words are not meant for you. "I failed you. I should have been there. It should have been me."

He had spent years grieving in silence, throwing himself in his mission to avenge their deaths and later in prison, reading philosophies to justify the actions he had taken. He had never given into the sorrow, not in a meaningful way. It was easier to stay angry and to hate those responsible than to let the weight of his grief suffocate him as it did now. But, he had made them a promise that they would never be forgotten—that no one loss that day would be forgotten. He promised to remember them and then to visit once the memorial was complete. And now, he could keep that promise, even if it meant little compared to the one promise in his life that he had failed to keep—to protect them above all else.

You remain silently at his side, letting him grieve. He didn't recoil under your touch, so you kept your hand on his shoulder, knowing it would do little to quell the sadness of the loss of a child—the ultimate tragedy.

As his grief quiets and his body relaxes, you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze and retreat, offering him time alone with the family he had lost.

He kisses the crown of the bear's head and rests it against the wall. He remains a while longer in silent vigil. You keep watch from the fountain, admiring how the sun sparkled on the lake, offering a promise of hope for the future amongst the wreckage.

When he returns to you, his mouth opens in gratitude, but his words fail. He nods simply, and you understand all of the unspoken meaning it held.

"What will you do now?" You question softly.

"Wait," he replies, sitting stoically beside you.

"How long?" You had already been away almost a day and were curious where this was leading.

"As long as it takes?"

"For what?"

"I made an agreement. As easy as it would be to go on my way and accept this freedom, I must honor the vow I made. What would a man be without his word?"

You don't understand what he means, but you sensed his peace in his decision. "Okay."

His gaze meets yours. "The car will take you anywhere you wish to go."

"What about you?"

"I trust other means of transportation will have been arranged."

You take this as your cue to leave, so you stand, despite your reservations. "Thank you... for your help last night."

"It was my privilege to do the right thing."

"Will I see you again?" The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

The corner of his mouth twitches up momentarily. He reaches in his pocket, retrieving the black notebook he was writing in earlier. "That is entirely up to you."

You shake your head in confusion as he hands the book to you.

"This is who I was and who I am." His head tilts to the side, reflecting on the time you'd spent together. "It also holds what events I trust will transpire in the coming days and where to find me should you wish to after you've learned the truth."

"I don't understand."

"I know. You will if you read this." He offers a halfhearted smile. "If we don't meet again, I understand, but if we do, I'll know—" he goes quiet, choosing his words carefully. "I'll know there is more work to be done. That you have seen what I could be, and I'd like that chance."

You stare blankly, wanting to understand but sensing you can't.

"Thank you," he paused, his voice rising, searching for something more.

"Y/N," you whisper. You had both decided the previous night it was best to keep your identities concealed.

"Y/N," he repeats, reaching for your hand. He brushes a kiss on your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure."

Your eyes mist over, even though you're not sure why. You wait, hoping he might return the sentiment with his name, but his lips press together, and his only reply is to gesture toward the book he handed you.

"Go," he encourages.

You feel yourself walking away even though that's the last thing you want to do. You hold the book—his book—a little closer, not daring to look back. Despite the slight promise in his words that this wasn't the end, you couldn't help but feel like this was an unspoken goodbye.

A/N2: I started writing after episode 4 when Zemo first mentions the memorial. The original ending wasn’t angsty/uncertain, but I wanted to make it work with canon so I wanted him to decide to stay alone so he could return to prison, keeping the agreement he made to Sam and Bucky in the beginning. There may be a third part in their story... just saying 😉

Marvel Perma(til the end of the line): @the-soot-sprite; @fandomxreaders ; @moonstuffsteve

Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail ; @killsandthrills ; @noavengers ; @nalabarnes1031 ; @trelaney ; @willowtheewisp ; @marchingicenotes7

#baron zemo #zemo #helmut zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x female reader #zemo x reader #zemo x female reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x yn #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #baron zemo fan fiction #marvel fan fiction #mcu fan fiction #mcu

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so-writing · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (5)

all parts in the master list

Note: ‘Someday We’ll Know’ by New Radicals is the song for this part so I recommend listening it while you read, and also regularly because it is a beautiful song - also editing is trash once again because I just write and post like a maniac would

The pounding headache you’d woken up with hours ago had now reduced itself to a dull ache behind your eyebrows. It was enough to distract you from the arm wrapped around your waist but not enough to ignore the hard member pressed against the small of your back.

You knew who was laying behind you and while you knew it was a perfectly natural thing, you felt shock due to the fact the Matthew Tkachuk was sporting wood while cuddled up with your body.

His breathing was irregular and his heart was beating fast. You could tell because his face was crushed into your neck and his chest was pressed against your back.

He was awake.

You had to unwrap yourself from his body without giving him any indication that you knew about his ‘situation.’

“Fuck, I really need to pee!”

She hurried out of the bed and booked it to the bathroom at such a breakneck speed that Matthew was sure he’d gotten away with it.

He rolled onto his stomach and willed his boner away. This was not the time or place for anything sexual.

Matthew heard the sound of the shower turn on, sighing in relief that she was beginning her day and was probably completely unaware of what had just taken place.

He sighed heavily and, remembering that there was no game and an evening practice, went back to sleep.

“Nope,” you muttered to yourself as the hot water ran down your chest, “this is not a thing I should be feeling. Absolutely fucking not.”

You couldn’t get the feeling of Matthew’s body pressed against yours out of your head and it was annoying because you knew better.

The civility between the two of you was just blossoming and the last thing you needed was to think about his naked body while the two of you tiptoed around each other masquerading as friends for everyone else’s sake.

No, it wasn’t a thing. You wouldn’t let it be. You weren’t attracted to him, there was no way you could be. Up until a day or two ago, he wasn’t even nice to you. You weren’t into assholes, and there was no doubt in your mind that Matthew was an asshole.

While you were on it, what the fuck was with the shit he’d said last night? He wanted to cuddle with you, when twenty-four hours prior he had you sleeping alone on the floor?

Sure, he’d been drunk but still, it didn’t make any fucking sense. As far as you knew, you were not Matthew’s type and didn’t think even drunk him would have any interest in touching you.

You chalked it up to just another reason you could say he was an asshole decided to read anything into it.

The once hot water was now barely room temperature by the time you’d worked through your thoughts and you almost finished your shower until another thing, not from the night before, came to mind.

‘You ought to get dressed though, you’ve got goosebumps like all over your body.’

‘All over your body.’

Why was he looking so closely in the first place?

Matthew knocked on the bathroom door to make sure he was completely alone, though hours had gone by and there was no way she was still in the shower.

The lack of response from the other side of the door made had him smiling as he entered to brush his teeth and take his own shower.

He noted the few products that weren’t his sitting on the shower shelf. Picking up one of the bottles and rolling it in his hand he wondered out loud, “Lord of Misrule? What the fuck is Lush?”

Matthew was a 3-in-1 type of guy. Fancy bath products didn’t do it for him, what was the point? That didn’t stop him from using it anyway.

Thinking about the previous night, the earliest thing he could clearly recall was taking his first round of shots. Everything else was a mess of fragmented memories but he knew that he wouldn’t have initiated such closeness between the two of them. He barely liked her, hell, he barely even knew her (not like that had stopped him before) but he wouldn’t mess around with somebody on staff, even he had his limits.

He didn’t think she liked him either but he knew he didn’t pull her into him, so that meant she was the one that started it.

“Maybe she’s been cold to me because she’s into me and she can’t do anything about it,” he mused and squirted more shower gel into his hand, “that’s got to be it.”

You went about your day as normally as you could, opting not to watch practice because you weren’t ready to see Matthew after this morning’s debacle.

It wasn’t until about 10 in the evening that you decided it was time to leave the arena and head back to the hotel. You’d been working slow, forcing the time to pass but you were tired and knew you’d have to face him eventually.

Only tonight and tomorrow were left until the Flames would be heading back home and you could resume sleeping alone in the comfort of your own home.

You hoped Matthew would be sleeping when you got back, but much to your disappointment, he was sitting up in bed with his face in his phone and AirPods in his ears.

“Where have you been? It’s really late.”

“Had work to do,” you mumbled as you grabbed your pajamas and headed into the bathroom to change.

You changed, brushed your teeth and washed your face at a glacial pace. Twenty-five minutes had to have passed when you exited the bathroom and sat down on your side of the bed.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about and I think it might be a kind of touchy subject, but we should address it.”

Oh god, what was he talking about?

“Uh, ok, what’s up?”

“Look, I know it’s probably hard for you to be around me, feeling the way you do and all, but it doesn’t have to be weird.”

Feeling the way you feel? What the fuck did that mean?

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured out why last night happened and why you’ve been so cold to me all this time. You like me.”

The fuck?!

The little smirk resting on his lips was begging to be slapped off. You had never given him any indication that you were interested in him at all. Until this morning, you thought nothing positive about Matthew Tkachuk and those few positive thoughts were strictly physical. Yeah, he was definitely an asshole.

“I, the opposite of like you, Matthew. When have I ever given you the green light that I might be interested? We don’t even fucking look at each other most of the time. This roadie is the most we’ve ever even talked to each other. What makes you think I would want someone like you?”

“You clearly cuddled with me all night, that’s what makes me think you would ‘want someone like me!’ I would never be the one to pull the trigger when it came to getting close to someone like you.”

“You don’t remember last night, do you?”

“Most of it is a blur, yes, but that-“

“You came in hammered drunk and told me you wanted to hold me and then we went to sleep,” you cut him off. “Don’t think I didn’t feel your fucking dick shoved into my back this morning. You started this, Matthew. I don’t feel any ounce of attraction, physically or emotionally, to you at all.”

It wasn’t entirely the truth but you were pissed. How fucking arrogant was he that he thought you had feelings for him when he was the one making the first move by coming back for a drunk cuddle?

His face was beat red, “that can’t be true, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, you did and I stupidly let you for whatever fucking reason. I should’ve forced you to go to sleep and spent another night on the floor.”

He didn’t respond, instead focusing all his attention on the corner of the blanket he was kneading between his fingers.

“This is hopeless, Matthew. You and I are just two people who will never get along. Our personalities don’t mesh at all and that’s fine. We need to go to sleep though, two games two days in a row is going to be a bitch.”

Flicking off the light, neither of you bothered to say goodnight as you both stayed on your respective edges of the bed, putting as much space between you as possible.

---

Your respective alarms went off within fifteen minutes of each other, and like robots, you both got prepared for the day ahead without a word to one another. You both left for team breakfast at the same time, you heading in the direction of the staff and Matthew going off to join the players.

“So how’s it going with Tkachuk?”

“I mean, it could obviously be better. He’s making it pretty fucking hard for me to continue liking this job.”

“I have tea,” one of the newer assistants spoke up, “if you’re interested.”

“About me?”

“Yep, about you and concerning Tkachuk. Only if you’re interested though,” I smile played at her lips and you could tell she was dying to spill whatever secrets she was keeping.

“Hit me with it.”

“I was asked to go out with the group of guys the other night to make sure no one got in too much trouble, so I was there for everything that happened and while I know that he was very drunk when he shouted it across the bar,” she leaned in and the rest of you mimicked her action, “he doesn’t hate you at all. He’s actually pretty fucking interested in getting to know you in a much more intimate setting.”

“Bullshit.”

“He said it, I swear!”

“I believe he said it, but he was drunk and when he came back to the hotel room and insisted on cuddling until we fell asleep, he was drunk then too.”

“Wait, what?!”

Several people started talking at once, asking you questions and making assumptions.

“Nothing happened,” you raised your voice a little to silence them, “honestly. I’d never, especially not with him. I had also been drinking wine too so my guard was down but it was stupid and he acted even more idiotic about it the next morning.”

You recounted what you could remember of the other night and yesterday morning when he claimed you were the one to make the first move because you ‘liked’ him. It was probably something that should’ve stayed private, but if Matthew was going to say what he did at the bar, drunk or not, and blame everything on you, you figured you’d share your side of the story.

“One more night with your best friend and then you’re home free, Chuky.”

“I absolutely cannot wait, and the next time there’s an issue with the rooms and she ends up as my bedmate, one of you will be fucking trading with me.”

“I don’t know, man,” Gio clapped him on the shoulder, “I love a good, slow burning love story and this one has been incredibly entertaining.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re kind of into her, I can tell.”

“I am not into her. Not even a tiny fucking bit, man. Don’t spread that shit around.”

“Why? You don’t want her to find out?”

“There’s nothing to find out. I’m not into her.”

“Ok, man, don’t get so defensive. You’re not into her.”

“Yeah, you definitely can’t stand her,” Noah Hanifin piped up, “that’s why you told the whole bar you’d fuck her into the shitty hotel mattress if she’d give you the chance!”

“Don’t fucking lie man, I didn’t say that.”

“You did, but I’ll let you pretend like it was a drunken moment and not repressed pining.”

“Shut up, all of you, if you want me to get my shit together on the ice, you should stop bringing her up.”

It was petty and every one of them knew it but they didn’t want to frazzle Matt even more than he already was, so the subject was quickly dropped.

The Flames won in a 4-0 shutout.

Game Two was a complete success and instead of the players going out on their own, a bar was rented out and everyone was in attendance.

Ignoring Matthew was pretty easy at first. He scored one of the goals so plenty of the other guys were on him but as the night went on and the booze continued to flow, he found you.

“Hey,” he slurred slightly, “sorry about this morning and last night. I was wrong to assume, you know what they say when you assume.”

You were pleasantly tipsy and not entirely bothered by his presence at the current moment, so you humored him.

“No, what do they say?”

“When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”

“You mean when you assume, because I made no assumptions but you certainly did.”

“Yeah, I did. I’m sorry.”

There was something about the way he was looking at you at that moment, coupled with the song playing over the speakers at the bar that had you feeling some sort of way.

‘Someday we’ll know if love can move mountain.

Someday we’ll know why the sky is blue.

Someday we’ll know why I wasn’t meant for you.’

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t do this tomorrow,” you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned up on your toes to press your lips against his.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

#HarringroveApril Day 4: Rollerskates

***

At Hawkins Middle School, when you hit the fifth grade, you have to write an essay on where you see yourself in ten years. Little Steve, who sat in the front row of Mrs. French’s home room wrote his in blue colored pencil, declaring proudly in that essay that he’d be an astronaut. He later learned that was very unrealistic, and space freaked him out so he wasn’t too bummed about it, he’d chosen it based off of the poster hanging above the chalkboard, so it was fine. But despite not knowing who he wanted to be then, he never expected that in his “ten years from now” he’d be working at a roller rink in California, making minimum wage helping little kids up off the ground when they fell.

That’s what he did for forty hours a week, every week, paying low rent only because Robin was generous enough to let him stay with her, insisting that one hundred dollars a month and help cleaning up was plenty to float the bill. He followed her to California thinking there’d be more for him there. More than just the Family Video that was getting ready to be converted into a Blockbuster Video by the time he got out.

But after job searching in the booming city proved to be unsuccessful, and learning that being picky was not a privilege he had, he settled on the run down roller rink on the outskirts of town where the red carpet on the walls was peeling off and there were dips in the skating floor that made Steve’s job as the designated savior to all the kids, and occasionally adults, who couldn’t hold a vertical position.

He wore the ridiculous referee style shirt with the black and white lines that almost made him look like he’d just escaped from prison, and he circled around the rink, over and over again, for hours on end while open skate was alive and amateurs were in desperate need for his assistance. It wasn’t all bad. Steve had no problem helping up the crying five year old girl who hit her knee hard enough that he could already see bruising, and escorting her off the rink and getting her ice and a bandage, he had no problem with the twelve year old boy who had at least one hand in contact with the wall at all times who was knocked over by some high school jerks.

He hated when the mother’s who came with their kids would purposely fall over with a snicker as soon as Steve switched in on the floor. Very dramatic with their execution, sure to always trip over some nonexistent hole in the floor when Steve was close by just so he’d reach out his hand and lift her from the ground, likely the most action she’d seen in a while. He hated being used like that, he despised when he would turn to leave and they’d gawk at his ass as he skated away, some very drunk and very brave women had even gone as far to steal themselves a squeeze.

When Steve first got the job, he figured it would just be the thing he did to get by before he found a real job. But after the tenth interview resulted in a call beginning with the line “we regret to inform you” he decided to invest in more than one black and white striped shirt. He was going on five years now and his hourly pay had only raised by a dollar in that time, only after taking up extra duties behind the concession stand and skate rental. He worked there long enough to know the regulars. He knew the kids that he needed to look out for, the ones with the wobbly knees that did less than skate and more so stomp around, the teens on rollerblades who were just begging to get themselves kicked out by going the wrong direction, and he definitely steered clear of the women who definitely hit the bar before their Friday night roller skating escapades. He also watched as little kids who fell over every thirty seconds who spent the bulk of their time sitting out and watching improve and grow into solid skaters who could go an entire night staying up on their feet without issue. He knew almost everyone by name, there were rarely ever newcomers, so when the little girl in her little white skates with purple laces rolled out onto the floor by herself, he was not only shocked to see a new face, but shocked at how a kid looking to be barely four was outskating kids ten years older than her. She wasn’t doing any flips or tricks or anything extravagant, but she was smooth with her movements, she was fast, and she had a balance that could compete with his own.

So Steve had to do some investigating. He exercised his privilege of being the only adult employee and sent the new seventeen year old out on the floor while he looked around the seating area for a second unfamiliar face.

Except he doesn’t find an unfamiliar face. Every face in the crowd of skaters in the rink and parents watching from the side is a face he’s seen before.

But one face stands out amongst the rest.

“Billy?”

It had to be him. His hair was short and he'd grown a short beard, but Steve knew that skull tattoo and those blue eyes anywhere.

“Steve?” Billy said back, looking at him in shock. Steve was just glad he was still recognizable.

“Hey man, what are you doing here?”

Billy just pointed out at the floor. “No other rinks in town would let her skate because she’s “too young” so we came here.” He said, and Steve’s eyes found the little girl with the white and purple skates and instantly saw the resemblance. With her blonde curly hair and blue eyes and freckled cheeks, she was the spitting image of Billy. “How long have you been in Cali?”

“Robin and I moved over in ‘86, she just graduated from UCLA.”

Billy looked at him quizzically. “Buckley? The two of you a thing?”

Steve couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I think her girlfriend would take issue with that.”

And Billy just matched his laughter. “You know what? That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“What about you? Wow you got a kid now! You got a wife too?”

Billy shook his head. “No, no. I love Bridgettes mom, but uh… we weren’t exactly compatible.”

“Well it looks like the two of you made one hell of a kid, that’s for sure.”

“We sure did.” Billy says as he looks out at the rink fondly, and Steve sees an entirely different person from the mullet wearing asshole who beat the living shit out of him once, the guy who had a lot more going on than people knew about, the guy who was in pain and never had an authentic smile. He saw into those deep blue eyes and was able to forget about the guy he was, because somehow after only minutes after crossing paths for the first time in five years, he was falling for him, for this new and happy Billy Hargrove.

And Steve says fuck it. He’s spent years having middle aged women literally fall for him, and it was time he took a page out of their book. He doesn’t go as far as to grab his ass, but he makes the bold move.

“Would you maybe want to go out for coffee sometime to like, catch up?”

Billy looks at Steve for a second too long and Steve instantly regrets it as Billy looks him up and down. He wants to take it all back right there but he watches Billy smile and silence his thoughts by saying “Sure. Meet here same time next Friday?”

And Steve doesn’t know what to do next. He’d avoided the dating scene entirely after one bad encounter with a guy he met in ‘87 and it was suffice to say he was out of practice. “Yeah! Great! It’s a uhh…” he paused, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

But fortunately, this version of Billy still had the same amount of game that he did when he was seventeen.

“Steve?” He says, catching Steve mid blush and breath caught in his throat. “It’s a date.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #ficlet #harringroveapril

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

Kessel Run - Din Djarin

A/N: Oh, I’m writing Star Wars now...

Summary: Reader meets Mando on Tatooine and gets roped into helping him. Just a drabble of some of their time together.

Star Wars Masterlist (that doesn’t exist yet)

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Your fingers prodded at the softer flesh of your hip, a low hiss escaping as you pushed against the bruise, as if irritating it would help it heal faster. You were sure the Mandalorian whose ship you were currently working on was watching you waste time checking on fresh injuries, mostly because he’d been watching ever since he’d gotten back from his quarry.

Peli promised him two more days and the Razor Crest, in all its ancient splendor, would be operational once again. But those two days were being spent here, in her shop, because he’d found his bounty and he’d taken up watching you as if you would break the ship altogether the moment he turned away. You were sure he’d seen you limp across the yard that morning after a particularly rough sleep (trust you to fall asleep on your bad hip) and now you were paying the price for it.

“Dank farrik,” you cursed as you pressed a little too hard into a knot, pain shooting up your side. You dropped the wrench in your other hand to grab the side of the ship and hold yourself up. “Hey, Mando...”

“Yes?” His modulated voice sounded from behind you, a little closer than you expected though you shouldn’t be surprised. There was no way he was going to let you pass out against his ship and break something.

“Could you just, hold this for me?” You asked, shifting your hand over a tube so that he could take it.

“If I’m assisting in the repair of my ship, that should be a deduction in credits.” He mentioned, almost casually.

You glared at the side of his beskar helmet, annoyed only because you could practically hear Peli’s voice in your head, gripping to you about credits and cost of living. As if Tatooine was some first-class place to live. “I hardly think that holding a tube in your hand is assisting in a repair.”

“Would you be able to complete the repair without me holding this?” He asked, “if so, I could let go of it.”

“Aren’t Mandalorians supposed to be like, silent and serious or something?” You grumbled, moving further down the ship to your tools, grabbing what you needed, “I’ve never met a snarky Mandalorian.”

“Have you met other Mandalorians?” He seemed genuinely interested in the suggestion that you had somehow come across others of his kind.

“Not on Tatooine.” You replied, taking the tube back from him and soldering it into place. “I’m from Kessel. I had some...uh, trouble, there and now I’m here.”

“I don’t think I would choose Tatoonie to hide on.” He commented, earning another glare from you. He sounded judgmental and you would’ve loved to see the face beneath the mask because somehow even the tilt of his helmet felt condescending.

“Well thank you for that input. I’ll take it into consideration next time I need to skip town.”

“How long has it been since you were on Kessel?” Mando asked, ignoring your previous comment.

You hummed as if you had to think about it, as if it had really been that long that you couldn’t remember it entirely. “Not long enough.” You replied. “Hold this,” you handed passed the bolt cutter to him as you shifted yourself better into the space available to fix the underside of the cargo hold.

“Could you lead me to them?” He asked.

“Could I?” You paused, looking over at the Mandalorian, “could I tell you where they are or could I show you? Where exactly were you headed with that question Mando?”

“I’ve been tasked with returning the child to one of its own kind-”

“Assuming that when the helmet comes off you aren’t a giant green womp rat...what exactly does that have to do with Mandalorians?”

“I don’t look like that.” He deadpanned and you turned to look at him, cocking your head to the side the way he did when he was curious about something that you said. He mirrored your action and you smiled, reaching out to gently tap the wrench in your hand against the top of his beskar helmet.

“If you say so.” You replied, “so then what do you need other Mandalorians for?”

“I think they can help me find who I am looking for.”

“Who are you looking for?”

“You’re extremely inquisitive, has anyone ever told you that?” Though he posed it as a question it sounded much more like a statement he was making.

“No, but thank you.” You moved further to the left, reaching passed him to tighten a bolt, and cringing at the pain that shot through your hip.

“It wasn’t a compliment.” He continued watching you as you jabbed the heel of your hand into your back again, as if inflicting pain would reduce the ache. “Are you injured?”

“I mean, yes and no. Did I recently sustain an injury, no. Am I in constant pain, yes.” You explained, straightening up and stepping away from the Razor Crest. Mando followed suit, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you.

“Are you well enough to travel?”

“Where am I traveling?” You asked, before your eyes narrowed in realization, “oh, right, Kessel.”

“I’ll assure nothing happens to you and I’ll gladly drop you here in Tatooine when we’ve completed our business.” He replied, the vocoder masking any inflection on his words. It all sounded monotone to your ears though the suggestion to drop you back off in Tatooine seemed a little too eager, if you were being honest.

“Fine.” You caved, accepting the offer even though you knew that returning home wasn’t a great idea. Kessel was a garbage heap in the middle of the galaxy, no better, in your opinion, than Tatooine or Jakku (though the latter you hadn’t actually been to). Still, something about the Mandalorian was appealing and risking death didn’t even cross your mind as you tried to find his eyes in the T-visor of his helmet. “But I’m not deducting your help from the charge.”

“But you’ve admitted that it was help.”

“This trip seems like it’s gonna be really fun.” You quipped, glaring at him.

Though it was intended sarcastically, it seemed that the trip from Tatooine to Kessel was, in fact, somewhat fun. You had never really been the type to enjoy the open space and more often than not had envisioned yourself in a spacecraft, floating alone among stars after running out of fuel too far from any inhabitable planet. At least, in this case, you figured, you weren’t the one piloting the ship and Mando gave off the sort of air that suggested he was capable enough to maneuver this craft in any atmosphere imaginable. You weren’t sure if it was because he was toeing the line of being too self-assured and cocky or if you actually trusted him. Either way, the trip wasn’t so bad.

Spending most of the time in the hull with the little green womp rat helped take your mind off the fact that you were headed back to your home planet.

“Come on, if you can zap that little ball into your hands you can wiggle your ears.” You insisted, holding the tips of his ears gently and wiggling them for him. It was a rare occasion that found you both in the cockpit with Mando as he piloted the Razor Crest.

“What are you doing to him?” Mando asked, turning slightly so he could look back at the two of you.

The kid was sitting on your lap, facing away from Mando as you tried to coax him into wiggling his giant ears. “I’m trying to see if he can wiggle his ears.” You replied, looking up at Mando, “can you wiggle your ears?”

He looked at you for a moment and then replied, “I just did.”

“I really hate you Mando, you know that.” You said, letting go of the child’s ears to brush your hair back. You pursed your lips and focused on the T-visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet as you wriggled your ears. “Ta-da.”

“Can I ask how that’s a necessary skill?”

“It isn’t. But it’s a fun party trick.” You replied, smiling at him. The child reached a hand up toward you, cooing, and you lifted him up so that he could touch one of your ears.

“It’s good we’ll be avoiding any sort of party then I suppose.” Mando finally replied, turning back to the controls and missing as you stuck your tongue out at him again.

You narrowed your eyes at the back of his helmet and crossed your arms over your chest, “you’re a little mean, did you know that?”

There was an odd kind of comfort that you found in the Razor Crest and in traveling with the Mandalorian and the small child. He was a lot more mischievous than you’d originally taken him for when they were docked in Tatooine, though Peli had monopolized time with the child while you had been preoccupied working on the ship. Even with the added trouble of the child on days when he was being a little worse than well behaved, there was an odd calm about the old ship and it’s pilot.

Even when you were just sitting in the cockpit with him and the child, silence save for a few small noises from the child, you couldn’t help feeling like this wouldn’t be such a bad life. Alone, it would certainly be difficult, but with companions, it sort of made you forget how you swore you would never return to Kessel.

Three days before you docked on your home planet, the pain in your back flared again, as if trying to warn you off the trip a little too late. You were coming down the ladder from the cockpit to get some sleep and you gripped the rung close to your head, knuckles turning white as a shot of pain bit through your nerves.

“Dank farrik.” Your other hand grabbed at the phantom pain, shoving the heel of your palm against your flesh to reduce the ache.

“Are you alright?” Mando’s modulated voice came down the ladder from the cockpit. There was no other sign that he’d moved and you pictured him still sitting in the pilot’s seat, head just tilted to the side at the sound of your cursing.

“Just my back.” You replied.

“What’s the matter with it?” He questioned.

You weren’t sure if it was the usual monotone of his voice or if the modulator just altered his tone but the question sounded hallow and you had trouble telling if he actually cared. Beyond the obvious inconvenience that an injured person would be to a bounty hunter. “Old injury...likes to flare up every once in a while.”

“You’ll be alright in Kessel?”

The temptation to tell him that you weren’t actually sure you could answer that as a yes or no was right there on the tip of your tongue. How were you supposed to know when a flare up would happen? You’d been mostly fine this entire trip despite the uncomfortable temporary cot and the bumpy ride. “I won’t slow you down.” You finally replied, assuming that was what he actually meant.

In the cockpit, Mando frowned. That was a less definitive answer than he wanted but it also wasn’t what he had asked you. It was an obvious concern and he could see where you would’ve misinterpreted his question to mean that but he wasn’t asking if you would compromise the mission. He was genuinely concerned for your well-being. Not only because he had recruited your help in finding more of his kind but because he had spent the trip slowly warming up to the idea of you in his ship. The kid had been an adjustment, one that he was surprised he adjusted too so quickly, and you were much the same. Though the way he felt toward you was not at all similar to his feelings for the green monster. This was something he truly hadn’t experienced before, something he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain.

Switching the Razor Crest to autopilot, Mando climbed down the ladder into the hull. You had moved away from the ladder but you were standing near his bunk, one foot braced on the edge of the bed while the other held your balance as you leaned forward, hand still pressed to your lower back.

“What are you doing?”

You looked over at him, pieces of hair that weren’t tied back falling into your face, “trying to stretch?” You offered, more a question than a statement. “Sometimes it helps my back to-what are you doing?” You asked as you felt his gloved hand at the side of your thigh, tapping gently.

“Put your leg down.” He instructed and you followed as if this was completely normal. In the short amount of time that you had spent aboard the Razor Crest you had spoken to the Mandalorian exclusively about Kessel and the trip. You had both talked around the womp rat but never directly to each other about anything too personal. He didn’t seem too concerned though, as his hand moved from the side of your leg to cover your hand still on your back. “Here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, moving your hand to grab the door of the bunk as he pressed the heel of his hand into your back, hitting the sore muscle.

“How did it happen?” He asked, modulated voice even as he continued to massage the sore muscle.

“Just bad decisions…and general idiocy on my end.” You replied, feeling the roughness of his glove against your skin as he lifted your tunic, as if asking about the injury was the same as being granted consent to inspect you. “I usually have a serum to numb the pain but I ran out while I was on Tatooine.” You scrunched your nose as the pad of the Mandalorian’s thumb pressed into a particularly painful spot.

His other hand came up on your shoulder, pushing down gently. “Don’t tense up.”

You wanted to offer up some kind of witty reply, some quip to push down any other feelings besides a simple banter with him, but the feeling that came over you as you focused on relaxing your body was all you could give your attention to. It was like you were melting under his hands, all languid and relaxed, more so than you had felt in a long time, this was surely better than any serum you could find. It had been a while since you had felt comfortable enough with anyone to let them this close to you and, while the Razor Crest didn’t exactly offer much space to spread out, you had still been trying to keep a distance between yourself and the Mandalorian. You knew that once you led him to Kessel, and once he’d doubled back to Tatooine to drop you off, the chances of seeing him again were slim.

Plenty of people had come and gone from your life before, people who had been there longer and left less of an impression, but you still felt that ache, already budding in your chest, when you thought of parting ways.

“You’re not especially good at following directions, are you?” Mando asked, his hand squeezing your shoulder again.

“It’s a reflex,” you promised, “nothing to worry about on Kessel.”

“I’m not.” He replied, easily. “I wanted to mention, depending on the way things go, it could be a while before I get back to Tatooine...I may not be able to return immediately.”

The mention of your new home caught your attention briefly but just as you tensed you relaxed again, tilting your head slightly so that you could see the now familiar beskar helmet, any empty pane, void of any emotion.

“I doubt Peli will miss you,” you offered, as if reassuring yourself. Instead, you felt a rather unusual warmth settle in your stomach as Mando took a step away from you, gloved hands falling back to his side.

“Tell me if you have any more trouble with your injury.” He said, an air of finality about it and, sure enough, he headed back for the ladder up to the cockpit.

The child, who was munching absently on some dried fruit you’d packed, watched while he left before turning back to you with a gurgle, large eyes piercing through whatever moment you might’ve been entertaining in your head to remind you that this was indeed, a mission. Though you were certain you hadn’t mistaken the hint of fondness in Mando’s voice when he alluded to keeping you around.

“I think I’m hearing things kid.” You whispered, more to yourself than the child, as you took a seat beside him on the bunk.

#din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fic #mando fanfic #mando imagine #mando fanfiction #mando fic #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #collecting stories imagine

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loki-hargreeves · 3 years

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Loki x Reader - Married in Secret ENDING 2

Warnings: Fluff, kind of implied smut but definitely mostly fluff Word Count: 1K Summary: Read part 1 first! This is choice #1 of three possible endings you can choose from. Author’s Note: This won’t make sense unless you read the [main part] first :)

YOUR POV

After you had been pronounced husband and wife, it was a real mission to get all the way to the shore without being noticed. At first, you tried to sneak your way like you had done so many times before, but Loki’s golden gear and your wedding dress were sure to catch attention. So with a little help of his magic, Loki disguised the two of you. That definitely made things much easier.

Eventually, you made it to the docks. The sun had set and the sky was a deep shade of blue. The stars were hanging above your heads and the air was cool, which felt lovely. During all that time, you wondered what Loki was possibly up to.

He stopped walking when you reached a boat that was scattered with flowers. You saw a closed basket inside and two lanterns. The sight made your heart flutter in your chest with love and excitement. Despite Loki’s serious and sometimes cold exterior, he was so sweet and romantic.

Loki was the first one to get in, only so he could assist you. It wasn’t easy walking around in a wedding dress.

He offered you his hand, “Do you trust me?”

A playful smile appeared on your face when you grabbed his hand, “with all my heart.”

Just like that, the two of you get inside the boat. You sat down comfortably as Loki worked on getting you further onto the water, away from everything and everyone else. The wind was making small ripples on the surface on the water, which crashed with the ripples the boat created. Soon enough, you and Loki were closer to the mountains than you were downtown of Asgard.

Being in the middle of the water was comforting. No one could bother you there.

Loki sat down right next to you and the balance of the boat wasn’t disturbed at all. In the midst of the cool air, it was nice to feel his body warmth against yours. It definitely tempted you to cuddle against one another.

“This is lovely,” You admitted softly. It was dark, but you could see a sparkle of light in Loki’s eyes. He was worried you wouldn’t like this, but now that he heard that, he was relieved.

“It’s only one part of my surprise,” Loki let you know as he grabbed the basket. He opened it, revealing all the food and drinks that were hidden inside. There was even cake in there, which you were delighted about. “There is a little getaway waiting for us on Midgard. I know a secret pathway that will take us there. I assure you, it’s quite nice and no one will find us there. We can spend the next week all by ourselves,” Loki explained to you as he grabbed two glasses from the basket and filled them with wine.

As he finished explaining that, he handed you a glass which you grabbed with joy. It was nice to have something to drink after the long walk you had taken earlier.

“Loki that’s amazing,” You could hardly believe what you were hearing. How and when had he made all of these things fall into place? “You’re amazing,” You added quickly, meaning what you said. He was truly like no other and you felt so lucky to be with him.

“For us,” Loki raised his glass in the air.

“For us,” and so did you. The two of you didn’t break eye contact as you tasted the wine. It was sweet and not too dry. You had to take another sip of the delicious drink, allowing it to coat all your taste buds.

Loki looked at your dress again, the dress that just screamed you, but it also made you look like a queen. He couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked. He could hardly believe that you had wanted to marry him. His heart was so full of love for you that it almost hurt.

“I’m glad we did this,” Loki admitted after a while. He put his glass down, trusting that it wouldn’t fall over. The boat was quite still by now as it floated freely on the water. The wind was calming down and the water was becoming clearer, showing your reflection on the surface, even in the dark.

“Me too,” You agreed. Getting married in secret was the best decision you had made in a long time. A huge, formal wedding wouldn’t have been special. It would’ve been a show and the entire day would’ve been spent by pleasing others and pretending to be something you were not.

Loki used his magic to grab the two lanterns. That’s when you put your glass down as well, grabbing the other lantern from him. It was something quite simple, but you were excited nonetheless. As you inspected the thin material of it, you saw something special. Your names were written inside a heart. It was incredibly cheesy and you had not expected that from the god of mischief himself. Funny, after all these years, he could still surprise you.

“I love you, Loki,” You let him know, tearing your eyes off the heart for a moment.

“And I love you,” Loki returned the sentiment shamelessly and leaned in to press a soft kiss on your forehead. And even after all these years, he could still make you flustered.

A green flame lit around his pointer finger, which burned bright enough to make everything else look green for a moment. He lit his lantern and then yours. Once the two flames grew, he lifted his magic from his hand.

“Ready?” He wondered.

You simply nodded as an answer. Then simultaneously, you both raised the lanterns up in the air and watched as they kept going higher and higher up in the air, until they looked tiny from where you were sat. The green lanterns moved toward land, but you doubted they would reach it. Perhaps they would float to land and some lucky person would find them. You wondered how long it would take for the rest of Asgard to find out about your marriage. It would be interesting to watch the chaos unfold.

As you watched the lights, you put your head on Loki’s shoulder. His strong arm was wrapped around you and his hand rested against your hips lazily. There was no other place in the nine realms and beyond you’d rather be than right there with Loki.

You wondered where on Midgard you would go. Perhaps to Norway? Or would you explore new places you had never seen before. How would you get there without Heimdall finding out about your secret little getaway? Surely, Loki had something figured out. He always seemed to be several steps ahead of everything else.

“Did you mention something about cake earlier?” Loki seemed to remember what you had said when eh first revealed he had a surprise for you.

“I most certainly did,” You smiled now. Who didn’t get excited about cake?

“Well, lucky you,” Loki reached into the basket, “I have exactly what your heart desires, my dear,” He declared as he pulled out the cake. It was decorated with your favourite berries and candies and it looked absolutely scrumptious.

Soon enough, the cake was before you and you and Loki had your forks. It was just for the two of you, so there was no point in cutting it and using plates. You dug into the cake at the same time, and since it was your wedding day, you fed each other the first bites.

You almost poked Loki on the cheek with your fork, which made you want to laugh, but you didn’t want to choke on the sweet cake. It practically melted in your mouth.

“Norns, that’s a good cake!” You moaned in delight and wanted to take yet another bite.

Loki on the other hand, wanted to hear more of those beautiful sounds that came out of your mouth. “Is it that good?” He shot you a flirtatious look.

You took a second bite of the cake and closed your eyes, trying to tease him by eating in an overly dramatic way, “it’s really good, Loki,” you confirmed with a silly voice. It was difficult to hold back a grin as you put on your little show.

“If you think the cake is good, just wait until I get my hands on you,” Loki teased you right back with a bold statement. Oh, you were certain he was going to make you lose your mind. But of course, two could play that game.

You leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek, then you pressed your lips against his jaw, his neck and eventually his sweet spot that always seemed to turn his legs into jelly.

Loki wanted more.

But you pulled back with a cheeky little smile and decided to focus on the cake again.

“What?” You turned to face him. You could feel his eyes on your skin. Was he surprised?

“Nothing,” Loki wiped the look off his face. He quite enjoyed this. “I’m just thinking about what I might have to do with you.”

“I assume that you won’t tell me?”

Loki grabbed his glass to taste his wine once more, “I wouldn’t want to spoil a surprise, now would I?”

Always so mysterious.

And it was one of the many reasons why you had fallen in love with him. A day with Loki was never a boring day, and you would spend the rest of your days together.

A/N: can you tell that I love that one scene in Tangled?

#Interactive fic #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

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Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 10

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Nine

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Ten: Human not Humane

Huckleberry Hall was thriving with life. Lucien had apparated at the bottom of the pathway leading up to the external arches and courtyard placed before the hall – and there were people everywhere.

Elain saw all walks of life, from noblemen to peasants crowded on the lawns and paths. It was like looking directly into a memory. In another life, Elain would walk among these people with her sisters and parents. Nesta would trot directly behind their mother as she sneered down her nose at the farmers and tanners, Feyre would drift a little further behind, looking up at the clouds in the sky. Their father would walk at the back holding little Elain’s hand, pointing out the flowers and the trees and showing her how to make a trumpet from a leaf.

That was another life and what Elain had always assumed was a happier one.

Mother knows what she thought now.

Lucien and Elain were hidden from sight down the pathway, and it looked as though they were the last to arrive. Looking around, Elain saw stableboys managing a small army of horses, farmers sitting next to wagons full of seeds, grain and fruit, there were even Lords and Ladies, perched under umbrellas in fine chairs, tutting to themselves at the display.

It was so…human.

The rowdy chatter, the children playing hopscotch, the delicacy of these little lives and how they were interwoven with one another. Another way in it being so human was that Elain knew she didn’t fit.

Years ago the sight of all these people would have simply washed over Elain, now it threatened to drown her. Looking around all she could see were people, people and more people. People she didn’t know in a situation she couldn’t control. How long had it been since Elain had spoken to anyone outside the Inner Circle or the Band of Exiles? She hadn’t been taken to any of the meetings with other Courts or any trips abroad – her family hadn’t even told her. They’d just left her alone and hoped she’d be fine.

Breathing started to become a little difficult.

“Are you okay?” Lucien’s voice husked in her ear.

Elain just stared blankly up at him; she wasn’t sure. His own eyes were assessing her carefully.

“If you don’t want to do this just say the word and I’ll take us home.”

Home…

“I’m fine,” Elain said, though a little breathily, “It’s just…I haven’t been around a crowd in a long time.”

She flinched then as a carriage thundered through the woods on a path far to their left, the noise scaring the birds who began a loud chorus of squawking. All of the uproar felt as though it were washing over Elain, dragging her down, suffocating her.

“Hey, Elain, breathe,” Lucien’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders as he pulled himself in front of her, blocking her view of the Hall and all the people surrounding it. Now, her attention was on him.

“Breathe,” he commanded once more before he joined her in taking deep, long breaths. In, out. In, out.

Slowly, the roaring noise and itching anxiety began to fade away as she became encased in the sensation of Lucien. The smell of him surrounding her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes concerned as they roved over her face.

She wondered if this is how he often felt – like his entire universe sometimes shifted so that she was at the centre.

Once Elain’s breathing had returned to a steady pace for several moments, she felt something tugging from within. Without thinking, Elain brushed up against the bond and was surprised to feel a wave of emotions – Lucien’s emotions – washing over her. She was even more surprised at what those emotions were.

“You’re angry,” Elain whispered after a moment. Lucien shook his head but, he was. His eyes were burning, his jaw set, his brows furrowed – he looked as though he were furiously trying to stop himself from talking. “You are,” Elain prodded because, well, it was a good distraction.

Lucien sighed before looking warily down at her, almost as though he were contemplating telling her whatever it was that had set him off.

“I told Feyre a long time ago that she should’ve been taking you out to see the ocean or sunlight. Instead she…” Lucien trailed off. Elain wished he didn’t, she wished he just said what he so clearly itched to get off his chest.

“I like the indoors,” Elain shrugged.

“Do you?” Lucien cocked his head, “I thought you used to spend all your time in gardens and your greatest wish was to see the continent.”

Elain paused. How did he know about the continent…

Her father. When Lucien had come for Vassa he’d met Elain’s father and he must’ve tried to inconspicuously pick up as much information about her as he could. Maybe once Elain would’ve thought the notion strange but, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling shyly.

“Okay…” Elain tilted her head, “But I needed the indoors.”

“You needed both,” Lucien said as his eyes softened, “Fresh air, new places, new people – they remind us that the world is bigger than the rooms we lock ourselves in.”

The hands on her shoulders began to rub soothingly along her upper arms, and once more Elain’s entire focus zoned in on that point of contact.

“Did you used to lock yourself away?” Lucien grinned.

“Elain, I’m a 400-year-old fae, I’ve spent my fair share moping indoors. Tamlin was the one who eventually had enough, he threw me out into the woods of Spring one day and said if I couldn’t catch anything, I wasn’t eating dinner.”

“That sounds mean,” Elain half-laughed.

“Maybe,” Lucien shrugged, “But it got me out. He was a bastard though, I spent all day in a river collecting enough bass to feed a small army only to come back to the Manor and find an entire spread waiting for me: potatoes, honeyed-ham, even Tipiati – it’s a delicacy from Dawn. It’s this little bird and you cut it open and eat the heart raw-”

“Oh, ugh!” Elain giggled as she scrunched her nose.

“What’s wrong petal? Raw bird heart not sounding good? Wait until I tell you what they do with the eyes-”

“Okay, okay! Feeling better! Ready to seize the day just please, stop talking about those poor birds!” Elain laughed, feeling for the first time in forever the weight on her shoulders disappear.

“I’m going to get you to try it one day,” Lucien grinned, looking rather smug with himself at having made her laugh.

“Oh, in your dreams,” Elain looped her arm through his as they made their way up the path and into the view of the humans.

“Just you wait, if we’re ever in Summer I’m making you try Calamari.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Elain smiled, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

Because her arm was in Lucien’s and he was smiling down at her as though she were a forest nymph bedecked in moon-flowers and in this moment, everything felt alright.

It was only when they were halfway down the path to the Hall, that Elain began to remember where she was, and she felt the eyes of the humans – humans she once knew – boring into her. She simply kept her own stare ahead at the open doors of the Hall in which she could see the fiery glint of Vassa’s hair and golden dress.

But her fae hearing picked up on everything. She heard the whisperings of the peasants, both enchanted and disgusted by her beauty, she heard the Ladies muttering to one another about her dress and how disgustingly uncivilised it was.

She heard the Lords grinning to one another about how they knew Elain when she was a little girl. About how they had first dibs…

If she wasn’t mistaken Lucien had gone somewhat rigid next to her and he was once more pulling himself to his full height, looming over everyone in the courtyard. One glance up at him told her that he was wearing his fiercest scowl, his entire being practically thrumming with magic that she knew was hot under the surface of his skin.

Then, Lucien was leaning low, his lips coming close to her ear as he whispered three little words. And then, his voice was the only one that mattered.

“I’ve got you.”

***

Time started to move quickly after their laboured walk into the Hall. Once they were in and grouped with Vassa and Jurian, Elain found herself being introduced to a plethora of Noblemen and Ladies. They shook her hand with introductions and light discussions of who they were and the role they played in the rebuilding of the mortal world. Elain was glad she had spent so much time looking over the documents and contracts as she found herself maintaining elaborate, detailed questions with everyone she came into contact with – and as each successful conversation passed, so did her anxiety, and she truly began to believe she could do this.

She often found herself using the same techniques her mother had taught her when attending balls. Except now, instead of conversations about dowries and marital prospects, she was speaking of trade routes and contractual obligations.

On more than one occasion she came into contact with someone whom she once knew. Some people, such as older, less wealthy men were kind and joyful, telling Elain how they were glad to see she was at least healthy and alive following the Battle against Hybern. With others, Elain could read the quite plain apprehension and slight disgust in the eyes of those she’d once known – particularly of father’s whose sons she’d once been a contender for marrying.

The Hall was busy with chatter as this was also the first meeting in which Queen Vassa was in attendance, and with the two new, unusual arrivals, there were many mortal civilities that needed to pass before everyone was to take their seats in the main hall at the southern end of the building.

Lucien never left her side, but not in a way that felt claustrophobic or hovering, but merely in a way that told her that he had her back. Whenever she tuned into his conversations she found that most mortals responded somewhat well to Lucien. At least, as well as they could given the circumstances. Many mortal Lords were interested in Lucien’s weaponry and experience in battle, there appeared to be an endless amount of questions regarding his sword of choice.

There was only one time in which Elain overheard her name in his discussions.

“Are you and the Lady Elain married then?” Lord McAdams, an old man who owned the human libraries inquired over a glass of port.

“We’re acquaintances, and while she is here she is under my protection,” Lucien replied smoothly. He was the image of relaxation, an easy smile that lit up the room playing on his features.

“Ah, I see,” McAdams winked at Lucien, who merely tilted his head in response.

“Pardon?”

“I won’t tell anyone, of course, you see, it is highly unusual for an unmarried woman to…well to…though it does happen.” McAdams was old enough that he wheezed as he talked.

“I’m quite lost Lord McAdams, though I’m sure you mean well.”

“Of course, of course, my boy. Of course, I mean well,” McAdams chortled, “Besides, I can’t blame you can I? You know I knew Elain when she was a little girl, her father used to take all three of them round to my house so they could have their pick from my libraries. She was the prettiest of them all, even then, and it’s always interesting to see how they…turn out.”

Elain was nodding along as a young Lord who owned the rice fields out West continued to chat extensively about himself. Though at that moment, she felt a pair of eyes searing into her back, particularly her behind. At that moment she didn’t need to reach for the bond to feel the protective fury that was radiating from her mate.

It was strange, but for some reason, she liked it. Some guilty, deep down part of her shuddered in agreement at the idea of Lucien being protective over her in the face of these men. It was almost a nice idea, belonging to him…

“Elain!” A saccharine voice pulled Elain from her internal tribulations and Lucien and McAdams faded away as a silver blur appeared in front of her. “Oh Elain it’s so good to see you again, you look…well!”

Delilah Darlington exploded into the conversation, nudging into the side of the young Lord who grumbled in response. She was bundled in a rather ridiculous silver gown which was bedecked in frills of lace that hung off the fabric like cobwebs. Delilah was beautiful, though, and a sweet kind girl.

She did not deserve the cruelty of someone such as Graysen.

“Delilah, I’m so glad you’re well! Congratulations on your engagement,” Elain said with as much earnest kindness she could muster as she pulled Delilah into a brief embrace.

They’d been friends, once, along with a small gaggle of girls. Nesta couldn’t stand any of them, she saw them as competition at balls and discouraged Elain from forming any kind of relationship with them. Elain had anyways, of course. It was something to look forward to at those balls, something to distract her from the wandering hands and unwanted touches.

“Oh, well, yes I-I uh, I didn’t know you were coming back.” Delilah looked strangely guilty for a moment, and Elain felt something in her chest squeeze. Graysen wasn’t deserving of this girl, and he wasn’t worth coming between them.

“Well I’m only here until some political goals are accomplished, then I’ll probably be heading back over the border.”

“How exciting, you always wanted to travel.”

“Yes,” Elain grinned shyly, touched that Delilah remembered such a trivial detail. Looking around Elain realised that the young Lord had disappeared, and she felt herself relaxing from the forced courtly act she’d been playing.

“It’s wonderful Delilah it really is. Being turned fae has been difficult, more than difficult it’s been…well, it’s been hard, but it’s almost worth it for the beauty of Prythian.”

Delilah, unlike the other mortals who changed the conversation once anything beyond the wall was mentioned, grinned widely and rubbed her hands together.

“I read a book after you were taken over the wall, it was a forbidden scripture from McAdams library that I managed to steal when I was over there. It detailed all things about Prythian, is it true there are Seasonal Courts?”

“Oh yes,” Elain grinned, allowing her courtier’s exterior to crumble, “Lucien hails from the Autumn Court.”

Elain shifted so that she was now standing next to Delilah against the wall and pointed out to Lucien, though there was no need, he stood head and shoulders above everyone, currently nodding along to something a small gaggle of women were chatting about.

“Oh of course, I can see it now,” Delilah muttered with a smile, but Elain was fixated and the now growing group of women that were trying to gain her mate’s attention. Delilah, seeing Elain’s line of sight, smiled wider. “They do that every week. They’re all eligible brides, see there’s Isobel and Lottie…not that they would ever admit it, but I think some of them want him to propose.”

“Propose?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from spluttering, feeling a protective fiery anger move through her at the thought. The idea that these women had gathered week after week trying to sway Lucien into offering them his hand in marriage for two years, it made her feel feral.

Lucien was hers.

The thought was like a stone to the head and suddenly the protective rage was cleared, leaving behind her internal shock and confusion had having had such an audacious thought. But by the way Lucien was now grinning slyly at the women before him, his confidence having tripled within the minute, Elain was pretty certain she’d accidentally sent that thought down the bond.

“Is he really your mate?” Delilah asked, her eyes twinkling slightly. Elain stayed quiet for a moment, and then.

“Yes. He is. We’re bound together by fate and the Mother herself.”

“That sounds very beautiful,” Delilah said softly, but Elain could not take her eyes away from her Autumn Male. It was like the thought had just truly dawned on Elain, the reality of their situation.

Lucien was her mate. In that way, he was hers.

And she was his.

“It is…”

“The meeting shall begin in ten minutes, please, may you all take your seats!” A loud, brash voice called from the looming doors of the main hall and the crowd began to move in the direction, the babbling only increasing as wives got left behind and Lords could engage in the locker room talk before the politics – Elain didn’t miss the several glances thrown her way as the men’s rowdy chatty began to fill the building.

“I must go but, I’ll see you soon,” Delilah hopped out away from her, giving Elain a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek before she was waving and disappearing into the crowd. The crowd where her fiancé no doubt was hidden.

She had not yet seen him.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the throng, Lucien was in front of her, pushing through the men as though they were no more than butterflies to swat at. Before she could say anything, he was holding out his arm with a slight bow.

“Lady.”

Unable to help herself, Elain grinned at her mate as she looped her arm through his and was rewarded with an equally bright grin back. Lucien led them through the crowd into the hall, people parting for them as though they were a plague to be avoided. Elain didn’t mind, especially if it meant no one would stand on her train.

“They can’t take their eyes off you.” Lucien didn’t move as he spoke, he merely muttered the words under his breath and had he been talking to any mortal, they would’ve been lost on the wind. But Elain’s fae-hearing picked them up, and she felt a shiver run the length of her spine at the secret conversation in plain sight.

“Feeling territorial?” Elain surprised herself by husking back.

“It would seem I’m not the only one.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking coyly.

“I don’t like the way they talk about me,” Elain moved on before her cheeks could start burning, “The men who watched me grow up.”

“It’s repulsive.” All humour left her mate’s tone. “If it soothes your mind know that I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“I don’t know if touching is the problem so much as the looking.”

“That dress isn’t doing us favours I’m afraid.”

“Oh, do you wish for me to get rid of -”

“Don’t,” Lucien said too quickly, his arm going rigid from where it was interlinked with hers. Elain smirked. “It’s…it’s a fine dress.” Lucien tried to concede.

“I think so.”

“It reminds me of home.” Elain stole a glance at him then.

“Because of the fabric?”

“Well yes,” Lucien’s brows furrowed as his eyes met hers, “But…that dress was my mothers.” Elain felt her shock roll through her. His mother’s? But this was a gift from Mor – right?

“You didn’t know,” Lucien mused, now seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. Elain shook her head. “Ah, of course, I gave it to Nuala the other day, she wouldn’t take it until I said it was from Mor.”

“I’ll…have to ask her about it. Why do you have your mother’s dress?”

“Eris delivered it months ago, apparently she’d heard of our bond and wished to gift it to you as a mating present.”

“Oh-”

“I don’t intend to – I’m not giving it to you for that reason I just, I explained to Nuala my thinking about how the fabric and style is perfect for setting intention.” Elain just drifted next to him, turning his words over in her head.

“Is this why you are always dressed so finely, because it is a political motive?” Lucien, to her surprise, grinned wickedly.

“Nothing is coincidental, Elain, from the clothes we wear to the way we talk.”

“Whose we?” Lucien shrugged.

“I would’ve said Autumn Court Males but, I believe it is only Eris whom I share that trait with. Ah, here we are.”

The hall was set up like a Courtroom, with certain families, estates, and job sectors, sectioned off into small groups. Elain and Lucien, being the representatives for The Fae were somewhat isolated from everyone else. They were near enough to Vassa and Jurian who were bickering quietly from where they were seated to their right. The room was still squabbling and rowdy with chatter, and there were only men besides Elain and Vassa. The other mortal queens were not even present.

Elain’s eyes unwittingly began to search for Graysen. For some reason, not having seen him yet was making her nervous, it felt as though the longer she waited, the worse it was going to be. She just didn’t want to have anything sprung upon her.

Perhaps with the bond having been in more use the past few days, it seemed that Lucien was somehow easily able to gleam that Elain’s attention had returned to her ex-fiancé. Elain knew because he’d gone rigid next to her.

“What?” Elain prodded, turning to him. With the hall still full of chatter, she wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation. She’d thought she and Lucien had been good on the Graysen topic following their conversation in the kitchen doorway. Lucien didn’t look at her, instead, he appeared to be assessing the Darlington’s as they made themselves comfortable. “Lucien,” Elain stressed.

“I um, I felt you the other night, when you found out Graysen was engaged,” he began slowly, still not meeting her eye. Elain tugged on his sleeve forcing him to look down at her, she raised her brows questioningly to show she didn’t understand. Lucien breathed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily before he looked deep ahead, avoiding her pleading look. “I could feel what you were feeling.”

The way Lucien looked ahead, his jaw set and his eyes unfeeling, it was as though that little sentence had explained everything. But she was just more confused.

He’d felt her? Her emotions? What had she been feeling? She’d found out that Graysen was engaged, and she felt…She had felt tired, relieved, pitiful even. It was like some door had finally jammed shut after it had been fluttering between open and closed. It was a final sever in their bond and as she had fallen asleep that night, she’d welcomed the end of her time with Graysen. Her dream that night was a reminder that her relief was earned.

How could any of that upset Lucien?

Then Elain realised that Lucien had felt it. That longing, and by the way Lucien was now glaring at his hands, curled into fists in his lap, she’d realised that he may have misunderstood what, exactly, she was longing for.

She didn’t want Graysen. She wanted what he had. Not in terms of Delilah but, she wanted his ignorance, his ability to simply move on and find a new wife. She wanted his strength to not change, to still be who he was, to still have the world the way he wanted it with him at the centre.

She longed for the bliss Graysen had found, simply because that bliss made her agony so much more tender.

Lucien had misread her. She almost sighed with relief. She could fix this; she could simply explain to him why, and the small waves of hurt currently rocking through her would disappear.

Lucien wasn’t Graysen, he wasn’t going to leave her side in an instant just because of a misunderstanding. But even as Elain repeated this to herself as the room quietened and the meeting began, some part of her refused to believe it – some part of her refused to trust.

***

The meeting was rather boring. After all her research and all her note-taking, the first two hours involved discussions Elain had no interest in. It was about internal disputes, farmers angry with one another over borders, fisherman demanding wage rises, etcetera, etcetera. Elain was forced to watch as the Lords and Noblemen sneered down at the lower class, working men and had to bite her tongue the entire time.

It seemed that Lucien shared her disgust, as he regularly whispered quips in her ear about how mortal and fae weren’t so different after all. That the High Fae and these Noblemen had more terrible things in common, such as their treatment of working families and Lesser Fae.

Elain had tried to watch with an assessing eye, categorising the figures she needed to remember for later discussions. But by the time the lunchtime break came about, she was practically falling asleep on Lucien’s shoulder. It was after lunch that the room seemed to clear slightly, the farmers and peasants going home to their families as the topic of the Fae and Queen Vassa was brought up.

Queen Vassa made her introduction to the room, her voice full and powerful as she stood, Jurian watching with an all-knowing smile at her side. There were some small talks about property and Vassa was able to confirm her signature on several contracts.

Lucien got involved in discussions several times, and Elain was more than happy to sit quietly and watch as he worked the room. He was perfect. The way he eased into conversations, the easy-going smiles, the unconfrontational comments on trade routes and Fae resources.

Elain was surprised to notice that several Noblemen had taken a shining to Lucien and seemed to actively pursue his voice in discussions. She could tell a lot of it was fake, the way Lucien grinned at men whom he’d whispered insults about in Elain’s ear but, his courtier’s mask was perfect.

Elain was beginning to think that she might make it through the meeting without having to stand and utter a single word, until Lucien interjected a conversation about wrapping up for the week.

“We must speak of the matter that is Koschei.”

This seemed to be the first thing Lucien had said which the Noblemen did not instantly grin and nod along to. Instead, Elain saw heavy sighs and the rolling of eyes. It would seem that these Lords did not mind discussing with the Fae so long as it was about mortal matters. But talk of Death-Gods and magical firebirds, seemed to rather put them off.

“We have spoken of it. Weeks ago.” Elain heard Lord Nolan’s tired voice swim into the room. He appeared humoured by Lucien’s statement while Lucien simply remained passive. Stoic. They were sitting far to their left, and Elain had already glimpsed Graysen perched next to his father, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like he was trying, and failing, to impersonate Lucien’s image of confident boredom.

“May I remind you, Lord Nolan, that fae resources are only open to you so long as you stick to your word.”

“My word-”

“-yes,” a shimmer of anger was seen in Lucien’s eye, but beyond that his courtier's mask was flawless. “Your word that you would assist both Queen Vassa and her fae acquaintances in disposing of the Death-Lord, whose residence is not far from this very hall.”

“The agreement was to help you reverse the so-called curse placed on the Queen, and as we can all see, Queen Vassa has joined us today and therefore one might consider that vow fulfilled.”

“I am here on bought time,” Vassa now stood, her voice dripping in authority and power as she asserted herself amongst the men, “I shall not explain the means, as the explanation shall no doubt be lost on a room of mortals, but what you see before you is merely a temporary solution to the problem.”

“It would do you well, Queen Vassa, to remember that you too are mortal,” Lord Darlington now husked, his eyes predatory, “Or at least you were…once.”

“Oh don’t worry, Darlington, she’s just as mortal as I am,” Jurian grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Darlington merely sneered in disgust.

“The point is Koschei is still at large-” Lucien tried again, the picture of relaxation from where he stood, looming over the room.

“And what do you expect us to do?” Elain felt her heart shudder as Graysen’s voice finally joined the others. It was only a matter of time.

Even though he was speaking to someone else - to Lucien - Elain felt her fight or flight instinct kick in. The last time she had heard that gravelly, low voice, had been when it had broken her heart.

“You fae clearly see us humans as inadequate, as proven by your Queen forgoing explaining her sudden appearance. No doubt caused by some dark magic, the same magic that threatens to infiltrate our lands and poison our people.” Graysen rose to his feet, his voice growing louder, and Elain noticed how much he had aged since she’d last seen him.

It had only been two years but the stress of rebuilding the mortal world without a wall had taken its toll: thinning hair, lines around his mouth, he’d also put on quite a bit of weight. He was no longer the young boy Elain had fallen in love with, a dreamer who wished to rid the world of evil beings. He was a man with a heart full of hate.

“Two things,” Lucien’s own voice didn’t waver as he turned to address Elain’s ex-fiancé, and she wondered how much they’d had to see of each other over the past two years. “One, Vassa is not my Queen. Two, it is somewhat hilarious to watch you whine like a pup over Queen Vassa not explaining to you her magic, when you are already so prejudiced to not comprehend the difference between the fae and Koschei. There is no magic seeking to infiltrate your lands apart from the work of the latter.”

“Koschei is fae-”

“-Koschei is a Death-God.” Lucien’s tone turned cold, and at that moment the sun dipped behind the clouds. “A survivor from the time of Old Gods. He is not fae, he is a threat to us as much as he is a threat to you.”

“The threat to humans are all fae and everything that comes with them.”

“The fae of Prythian have no interest in humans-”

“Oh please, one must only look to my ex-fiancé for proof of their machinations.”

The room went cold. The sun having now truly disappeared from sight, leaving behind a world of blue and grey shadows.

“Look at her, look at her unnatural beauty. Many of us knew Elain, the true Elain Archeron, the human one. She was beautiful but plain of the mind but set to live a normal, human life. Now look at her, she’s no better than a siren or a nymph, her beauty is of a freak nature and it’s only purpose is to lure you in, to cover the ugly truth underneath. Her and her two sisters were turned, stolen from their beds in the middle of the night and taken across the wall. I’m surprised to see you here Elain,” Graysen had been talking theatrically to the room, but that last sentence was personal, intimate. And when he caught Elain’s eye, she could only think one thing.

She hated him.

“Surprised but I suppose that’s my own fault, you always had a small fortune of ugly secrets you liked to keep hidden - and to think I almost fell into a marriage with you. You see, this is another reason the fae wish to infiltrate our lands, they wish to take our wives. Elain was stolen and turned only to be given to the male we see before us,” Graysen held his arm out to where Lucien was standing, still as stone at Elain’s side.

“This male was able to lay a claim on Elain the second she was turned. We’ve all heard of the mating bond.” A ripple of disgusted murmurs went around the room. “At that moment Elain, my soon to be wife, belonged to a fae male. Mother knows what atrocities occurred in the time between their mating and the moment Elain finally remembered her fiancé and came back home.”

Outrage and disgust were expressed around the room, and Graysen looked almost gleeful as he assessed the crowd.

“These two, this harlot and her owner-“

Elain shot out a hand and gripped the fabric of Lucien’s trousers if only to stop him from burning the boy to a crisp from where he stood.

“-have come here to mock us! They have come as a warning, to show us what will happen to our people - our women - if we allow this alliance with the fae to continue!” There were shouts of encouragement swelling from the crowd. “If we continue on this path then our women will look like her, horrid in their beauty. And worse, our women will belong to him as Elain belongs to him, as little more than a personal prostitute!”

There was something feral in Lucien’s eye as he glared at Graysen across the room. But while her mate was focused on her ex-fiancé, Elain was drowning in the leering coming from the crowd. People she had just introduced herself to a few hours earlier and had pleasant conversations were now staring at her with revulsion and disgust. She heard shouts of people calling her a ‘witch’, people telling her that she had no shame, that she was to burn in hell.

With her hand fisted in Lucien’s trouser leg, Elain drowned it out, she drowned it all out, and reached for the bond within.

Lucien was a tempest. Brushing up against the bond, Elain herself could feel the fire in his veins, could envision the rings of his powers, burning hotter and hotter all the way down to his golden core. The mating bond was taut in his skin, demanding him to defend Elain, to rip out the throat of anyone who would insult her. But there was another anger there too, a personal one. Lucien was furious on Elain’s behalf; she could read that now. He thought so highly of her and to hear lesser men insult her was turning him livid.

Sharply, Elain tugged on the bond and in an instant, his eyes snapped to hers.

There was so much emotion in that one look. Concern, fury, bitterness, doubt. It was all there for her to see; he didn’t dilute anything. With as much delicacy and care as she could muster, she slipped her hand from his pant leg into the hand that was dangling by his side.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

“It is true,” she began, and she felt Lucien’s hand squeeze her own. “I was stolen in the middle of the night by a group of fae. They stole me across land and ocean, all the way to Hybern. It is there where I was thrown into the Cauldron, the maker of all life, and transformed into a High Fae. This is all true.

“But my transformation was an irregularity, an unfortunate yet calculated political move whereby the King of Hybern attempted to get back at my sister for her killing of Aramantha. I expect you to all remember the King of Hybern, given that your own armies joined the fae in the Battle that catalysed these meetings two years ago.

“The King of Hybern was evil. Not the fae of Prythian. The King of Hybern was your enemy and the threat to human life. Not the fae of Prythian. Those such as Lucien here fought for your freedom. Fae died on that battlefield for you to stand here today, and you repay them by villainising them.

“There needs not be any animosity between these mortal lands and the fae realms of Prythian. I grew up like you, believing the fae were evil incarnations that existed to tempt human morality. But unlike you, I have travelled Prythian, I have seen fae from all walks of life, and the reality is the cautionary tales we all heard growing up were nothing more than fiction.

“The fae have homes, wives, children. They have towns and cities, farms, libraries and schools. They wake up each morning and go to work and each evening they have dinner with their families.

“This alliance is not about turning humans into fae, nor turning fae into humans. It’s about recognising life and seeking to protect it from those who might threaten it - and Koschei threatens all of us. We know he seeks to free himself from the confines of his lakeside Manor, we know he wishes to seek vengeance for his imprisonment. But there is much we do not know.

“We do not know how Koschei was bound to the lake, how he steals women of this land and turns them into swans, why he took Vassa, nor what it will take for him to be free. That is why this alliance is paramount.

“Koschei has a fascination with the mortals, he steals mortal women and mortal Queens. His residence is only a few miles south from here, deep in the forest. It is because of this we need mortal alliances.

“You do not need to believe the fae are good, nor must you trust us. But you must understand that all we wish to do is destroy a being who threatens everyone in this room. The alliance need not be a happy one, but it is needed.”

The room had quietened, the shouting had stopped. People were listening to her, and Elain had finally found her voice.

Lucien’s hand squeezed her own and she realised they were both standing before the room of mortals. She could only have an idea of what they must’ve looked like, side by side, glistening with the beauty of the Fae. They must’ve looked united and commanding.

They must’ve looked powerful.

Then, across the room, a man got to his feet. Looking at him for a moment, Elain realised it was the young Lord she had been speaking to with Delilah who owned the rice fields out West. He looked tentative and young as the spotlight fell on him, but when he met Elain’s eye, she saw a fierceness burning there.

“What do you need?”

***

Lucien wanted to get Elain home quickly after the meeting. Today had been unusually tiring, what with Elain’s debut in that dress this morning to the crowds turning on his mate halfway through the meeting. He just wanted to go home.

Correction, he needed to get Elain home and safe and away from these horrible men and their horrible thoughts.

A few noblemen came forth following the meeting expressing their devotion to helping Elain and Lucien in tackling the problem of Koschei. Most of them were young Lords who had come into their father’s wealth unexpectedly after the war, and their hearts had not yet had a chance to become polluted with years of hatred for the fae.

That was a success. No matter how often Lucien had tried to convince the noblemen to even speak of Koschei in the meetings, it seemed that the missing element was both Elain and Queen Vassa.

But before long Lucien had had enough. He wanted Elain home and safe now, and expressing a few half-hearted apologies he looped Elain’s arm through his and guided her out down the pathway before winnowing away without a second notice.

They made their way to the house with some small talk about how well the meeting had gone (Lucien tried his hardest not to spend all his time grovelling about how amazing she was and how fierce and strong she’d looked when addressing the crowds). The maids were there waiting for them with a pot of tea whilst they began on dinner.

It seemed that the meeting had gone on well into overtime and the sun was now distinctly plummeting towards the horizon. But when Vassa and Jurian finally made it back on horseback, there was only Jurian who entered the living room with a glass of whiskey.

“Where’s Vassa?”

“She decided to get her firebird overtime out the way,” Jurian sighed, something bitter in his eye as he flopped carelessly on the couch next to Lucien.

“Does that mean she won’t be turning back tonight?”

“We assume so, we’re not sure how the ring works but if Koschei’s little note is correct then I believe we won’t be seeing Vassa for a few days.”

Lucien cursed under his breath. Jurian just looked tired and…angry.

“There was a note?” Elain asked from where she was perched on her armchair, her legs tucked up underneath her, her dress outlining every curve of her body.

“Yes,” Jurian eyed her for a moment, “You did well out there princess, Lord Cao looked practically ready to sign you his battlements.” The Lord who had spoken at the end of the meeting.

“We talked after,” Elain mused, her finger running around the lip of her glass, “His residency is the closest to Koschei’s manor and he’s invited all of us to come visit, I think if we get close enough we may be able to get a read on the magic that’s bound to the manor.”

“Oh, fun, a day trip,” Jurian sighed bitterly, something clearly having aggravated his mood. He turned his scowl to Lucien. “Are you really going to let your mate within a mile of that place?”

Something dark flickered in Lucien’s eye.

“If Elain deems it a worthy trip then of course we must go. I thought you were interested in seeing Vassa free of the curse?”

“Of course I’m interested in seeing Vassa free, why do you think I’m here?” Jurian hissed.

“To generally give the manor a feeling of unease?”

“To make rude comments about people’s sisters in an attempt to start a fight?” Elain added.

“To make indecent comments about people’s mates in an attempt to-”

“Alright, alright. Mother, you two are no fun.” Jurian rolled his eyes, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body at the teasing. “Have you already eaten?”

Elain and Lucien nodded and Jurian got up with a stretch.

“Yum, leftovers for me then,” was all he said before he headed for the door.

“Jurian,” Elain called, “That note Koschei sent with the ring, could I see it?” Jurian glanced between her and Lucien, seeming to think before he nodded.

“I’ll send it up to your room in the morning," was all he said before he left the room. And once more, Lucien and Elain were left alone with nothing but a crackling fire.

There was a tension there that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had, maybe they’d both just been too ignorant to see it.

The reality was there would always be that tension between them, that intrigue and possibility. Looking at her now, curled in an armchair, the dress having turned a glittering emerald in the firelight, he felt every inch of his skin respond to her.

Not for the first time, an unplanned fantasy strolled through his mind. An image of himself getting up off this couch and walking over to her, of him placing his knee on her armchair, in between her thighs, capturing her throat in his hand and lowering his lips to hers.

One blink and the image was gone. Perhaps it was the bond showing him these things, taunting him with a possibility that at this moment seemed unachievable.

“I, um, I wanted to talk to you actually,” Elain spoke into the silence, and briefly Lucien fretted if his scent had changed.

“Oh?”

“Yes…about Graysen.” Lucien’s hope dropped like lead in his gut.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to say that I think you misread my emotions when I found out he was engaged which, I mean that’s not your fault. This whole bond kind of disrupts communication.”

Lucien just nodded. Looking at her, he saw the strands of hair that had come loose around her face, he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

“I’m not upset about it. I don’t want him anymore,” Elain said plainly. “I just…I guess I want what he has.”

Lucien blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What, specifically, do you want?” The words were careful, calculated.

“I’m not sure…his happiness? His ignorance?” Elain seemed to scowl slightly and then she was standing, setting her drink on a nearby table as she turned to the fire to warm her hands. Lucien pondered for a moment, definitely not using that time to worship at the way the dress followed the swell of her behind and, Mother help him, her thighs. Then he was up, moving around the table to join her at the fire.

Elain turned and watched him approach with an enigmatic stare, the fire reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“Graysen’s life is perhaps an easier one,” Lucien eventually breathed, “But whilst yours may prove more difficult, it is certainly more worthwhile.” Elain paused as she pondered his thoughts, and Lucien once more allowed himself to drink from her ever-flowing fountain of beauty.

“I just, I think it’s all so unfair.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why?”

“Because why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to continue to live his life and just find someone else to marry? Is there no such thing as justice?”

“You are free to seek retribution Elain-”

“And give the humans further reason to hate the fae?”

Lucien blinked. The timing of Graysen’s death would be unfortunate, but Lucien wanted to see the boy dead, even if that meant tomorrow an army would be at his door.

“The humans should be grateful the fae are ridding them of such vermin,” Lucien couldn’t help himself from spitting as he glared out the window. But not before he caught Elain giving a weary look and for the first time, he realised just how tired she looked. The way her shoulders hung forward and her arms curled limply around herself. Something akin to agony washed through him at the sight of his exhausted mate, followed by the overwhelming need to fix it, to take her into his arms and protect her from all the things that worried her. Lucien had to fold his arms tightly across his chest to stop himself from reaching out.

“I don’t want to have any revenge when it comes to Graysen because it’s not going to make me feel better,” Elain looked at the fire as she spoke, and Lucien hated the wobble in her voice. He hated that he didn’t know who was making her cry – him or the boy.

“It might.”

“No. It wouldn’t,” she said with such ferocity Lucien was temporarily reminded of Nesta. “You know why?” Elain scowled, her eyes tightening and her lips turning down into a cruel frown.

“Because I would’ve still loved him if he’d been the one to come back changed. I would’ve still married him, and I would’ve told him it’d be alright, and we’d figure it out together – and killing him isn’t going to change the fact that he wouldn’t do the same for me. That he would’ve never done that for me; and that means he never loved me the way I loved him. You don’t get Lucien. Killing him means nothing because there is nothing I can do to him to make him hurt even half as much as he hurt me because he simply, doesn’t, care. He will never even comprehend what he did to me. He will spend the rest of his life, even if that life ends tomorrow, in blissful ignorance of what he did and the damage he caused. Hurting him back would just be so…so pointless, and…I’m tired.” Elain curled in on herself with an exhausted, angry sigh.

“I know you think I came here because I was ready to finally deal with this…with us,” she met his eye and hunched herself into a smaller ball, her arms winding further around herself, “But that’s not it. I came here because I’m tired and there nothing left for me and, and I’m running out of-of-I’m running out of-”

She was starting to hyperventilate. Madja had warned her of this, the panic attacks that had become a side effect of her depression. She needed to breathe, she needed to calm down, she needed-

Lucien crossed the room in three strides. Some part of Elain wanted to recoil at him approaching her with such ferocity in his step and steel in his eye, but she couldn’t be scared of him. She could be afraid of the bond and what it meant to her, what he meant to her, but Lucien would never hurt her. Ever. That she knew.

He’d stilled in front of her, looking down at her enigmatically. She’d run out of words, and she didn’t know if Lucien understood what she was attempting to say. Every part of her was ready to just break down from how exhausted she was.

The silence drew on. The tension turning palpable, and when she was just about ready to fall to her knees and let the agony take over, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her firmly against his chest.

Elain let out a small sob as her face was pushed into the fabric of his shirt, her head resting against his upper ribs and lower chest. She’d never been so aware of how different they were in size; he was the tallest of them all and she the shortest. But it felt…good. And maybe she was touch-deprived, or maybe she was just deluded, but she found herself burrowing into him. He was so warm, and with his arms around her she felt like…like he had her. Like it didn’t matter if she let go and just crumpled because he had her and he wasn’t going to let her hit the floor.

At this point, falling was inevitable. Elain had been falling for some time, plummeting down and down after the Cauldron had tipped her out and washed her corpse on jagged stones. But with Lucien holding her she considered, for the first time, having a soft place to land.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she burrowed deeper. Her arms were still curled around her torso; Lucien’s curled around her back. Both of them holding onto her and keeping her together. A few seconds, minutes, hours of silence and she realised that after this, she could never forget how he smelt. Apples, warmth, musk, fresh Earth, smoke. Familiar and foreign. A stranger but…hers.

He smelt like an evening, an Autumnal evening, with a brilliant streaking sunset. The kind where it seemed like the sun had never been so alive, where the sun took the sky and turned into its masterpiece.

He was that masterpiece. The Autumnal sky. The Autumnal Sun.

Sighing, Elain waited for him to recoil. For his arms to slacken and for him to move away, for them to nod awkwardly at each and then go to bed and try to pretend that this conversation hadn’t happened. But time ticked by, and Lucien didn’t let go. If anything, his steely grip only tightened. As though with each passing second, where Elain expected him to drift away, he set out to hold on tighter. Their words had run out tonight, but Elain heard the message he was saying as he held her closer and closer. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.

Elain breathed him in, and allowed herself to stay.

***

Right then, she wanted to tell him that she didn’t know how to do this, but she knew she didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to say that she wasn’t sure if she could love again, that she might be a lost cause because Graysen had so thoroughly ruined her trust, and she wasn’t sure how high she’d built the walls around both her heart and mind. She wanted to say that she was lonely, and that she thought he was too, and what a funny pair they were in this world full of light and dark. Where good came in the form of people who made them both feel so alone.

She wanted to say that she was at a breaking point and had been for some time. That even though the war had ended it still raged within her. That no one else seemed to care because they’d got the happy endings whilst she just…existed.

She wanted to say that she didn’t know what she wanted. That her dream of being a wife and mother had been buried when she first tried to kill herself, three days after the Cauldron. Because how could she care for anyone else, especially a child, when she couldn’t care for herself.

She wanted to say that right now, in this moment, she just wanted to know him.

She just wanted a friend.

She wanted…

She wanted to run away and never look back. She wanted to damn the world that damned her. She wanted a brain that worked. A family she felt connected to. Someone to care.

Someone to fucking care. That was all.

But for now, this was enough. Lucien pulling her into his arms before she finally collapsed was enough. And so, tonight, she’d sleep. And that was enough too.

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