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honestlyfragile · 3 years

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We Meet Again - d.s.c oneshot

This was a little too long to be a drabble, but let’s be sad together

Pairing: Winwin!Fem reader

Angst, exes, mention of alcohol and cigarettes

wc: 1.5k

This was it. The night you've looked forward to but at the same time, dreaded like hell. When your friend asked you, "Would it be okay if I invited him?" who were you to say no? Just because he was your ex? You were better than that. So you convinced yourself it would be fine, 3 years was long enough right?

You've played this in your head over and over, but things like this never go as planned. When the night of your friend's birthday party came, you dressed to impress. Who? None other than your ex. Pathetic.

But who cares if you did? They wouldn't know that you've been dying to look your best for Sicheng.

When the night of your friend's party came, you made sure that you were early enough to arrive first while tagging another friend along. The first thing you did was scan the venue for any signs of him—none.

And you exhale as much as you could. It wasn't long until he finally arrived, with Ten, Xiaojun and Yangyang whom you also haven't seen in a long time. But you pretend to not bat an eyelash at their presence, you had to convince everyone in this place that you were unfazed and unbothered.

But of course there was always that one person that could read you like an open book. "You okay?" your friend asks and you crumble inside.

"I wanna step out for a bit," You say, trying to defeat this billowing feeling in your chest that grew by the minute.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'm good on my own." Sure you were. Until you realized you had to pass the table he was assigned to on your way out. But it would be too embarrassing to turn back. You held onto your clutch and looked towards the exit and that direction only. The clicking sound of your heels against the tiled floor giving you a tad bit of confidence.

You saw it, you saw him. From your peripheral vision, you knew that the moment you passed by, he reached for his phone and pretended to be occupied with something.

When you were finally out to gather some fresh air, you took time to appreciate how clear this night was. You take a cigarette out of your bag and pop the tip into your mouth, and search for your lighter in your purse. But before you could even do so, your mouth was left agape because of the absence of the cigarette stick.

"You only do this when you're stressed," He says, delicately holding it in between his pretty fingers.

You cross your arms, "It's none of your business." And snatch it back from Sicheng. Who does he think he is?

But god damn if you didn't think that he looked absolutely stunning—more than ever. Until you remind yourself that you absolutely do not have anything to do with him anymore.

You walk further away and look for a spot where he wouldn't bother you and finally lit your cigarette; your puffs heavy and aggressive. When you were done, you drop it on the floor and stomp the burning tip with your heels.

You walk back to the venue feeling unhinged by his presence, it was harder than you thought.

"Too early to be grabbing some drinks hm?" Ten playfully says while appearing at your side.

"Oh my god! It's been so long." You give him a hug and kiss his cheek. You've always stayed in good terms with his friends, especially Ten. You couldn't deny the fact that you missed them a ton.

He flashes you the brightest smile, "I know." He says, contemplating whether to ask you about Sicheng or not. "Have you..." he trails off.

"Have I..." you mimic him.

"Have you spoke to him?"

You chuckle, "Nah." You leave the encounter awhile ago out of the conversation.

Ten simply nods, not wanting to make it awkward and proceeds to ask how you've been, you tell him that you were fine and just always the same girl he knew. He was happy to hear that.

And when the universe cannot hold your encounters with Sicheng off any longer, you decided to let it be. You can't avoid him forever.

When yours and his table merge, he takes notes of the names of the people that he met tonight and recites them out loud, but leaves you out of it. You pout and playfully said, "What about me?" like you were out of your mind.

He chuckles, amused. "How could I ever forget you." He says and the crowd roars. Of course they knew your past.

You shake your head and take another shot of whatever drink you picked out from the selection at the bar and continued to try and belong to this circle.

"How have you been?" He asks, completely sober. Good for him.

"I've been alright. You?"

"Same." And left it at that. When you couldn't stand it any longer you left his side and took more shots for the sake of enjoying this night, giving your friend quite a hard time getting a hold of you.

And when you knew you've had enough, you sit at the empty table because most of the people have left the venue already; it was getting late.

To your surprise he also pulls out a chair and sits right in front of you, trying to take in your drunk and pathetic figure. Or if that's what you'd like to think.

"Are you okay?" He asks, brushing off the hair that had managed to clump in front of your face because of the sweat that consuming alcohol gave you.

You could cry right now, you felt so damn vulnerable that if you looked straight into his eyes, you would simply just lose everything it took you to be here. "I'm alright" You say, looking at every direction possible but his.

"How are you?"

You chortle, "You asked me that a while ago. I told you I'm good."

He purses his lips in disbelief, "I'm asking you for real."

"What do you want to hear from me Sicheng? That I've been an absolute mess without you?" Fuck. You did not just say that.

"No," He clenches his jaw. You might have gone a little too far. "You haven't changed." he says disdainfully.

"So have you." You shrug, having absolutely no control over your thoughts and words to even formulate proper sentences.

But despite everything he still manages to say, "You look beautiful."

To hell, if you could cry right now. Why the hell did he make it so hard for you, even when you weren't together anymore. "You don't look bad yourself," you retort, not knowing what to say at this point.

He asks you about how your mom was doing since they used to be close when you guys still dated, she even thought that you'd end up with him for good. She was devastated when she found out you broke up. You say that she's doing fine, but never really accepted the fact that you weren't going to get back together anymore.

He didn't know how to respond to that. Because he felt the same. He hated the idea of you not getting back together anymore.

“But are you?”

“Am I what?”

You waited for him to respond, “Have you been a mess without me? Because sure as hell I have been without you.”

There was a long silence. He’s unbelievable. You thought. He thinks he could just sway you with his words again, 3 years later you were back to square one. You couldn’t let him get his way again.

Finally, you say, “No. I was asking if that’s what you wanted to hear,” you pause and gather all your courage to ask this question ever since you found out from a friend. It had been bothering you for 3 years. “Did you really cheat on me?”

He takes a deep breath, and answers, “No. She was a friend. A friend I was leaning onto when we were falling apart. We never became an item.”

You laugh bitterly, not being able to help the escape of your tears. “Right.” was all you could say.

Your friend saves you from the awkwardness, “___ it’s time to go” She says from afar and you gather your strength to get up from your seat, but you trembled. He held your arm to keep you still.

You didn’t know if you should shake his hand, wave goodbye or just walk away. But before you could even decide, he had already engulfed you into a hug. Your head on his chest, staining his white button-down with your tears as his hand lightly pressed your head onto him. His scent was still so familiar to you, his hands still as gentle and delicate when it came to you.

You couldn’t take this anymore, you had to break away. You couldn’t throw away the 3 years you spent on yourself to get better. You swallow, “I have to go.” And didn’t wait for his response.

“Take care.” You faintly hear him say from a distance, you didn’t look back.

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mellifluousmalfoy · 4 years

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violet. // fred weasley x reader.

i’m so so so sorry this took so long, i’ve had the absolute worst case of writer’s block and it’s taking me decades to sift through these requests!! thank you so much for requesting and i apologise for taking years to write this @helloallthethingsilove <33

warning(s): cuss words, and the tiniest pinch of angst i swear.

word count; 3.5k

okay, maybe this is a slight spin-off to flower curse, but you don’t have to read it to read this.

in which you share the same injuries with your soulmate.

“Calm down, [L/N],”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! He’s a downright git is what he is.” I was fuming.

“Who does he think he is to just up and leave me here? I mean, after everything we’ve been through together, I’d assume he’d had said something to me, don’t you agree?” My dorm mates simply rolled their eyes. According to the letter my boyfriend had left me, this outburst was completely spontaneous.

Spontaneous my arse. I had watched him sneak off with his brother and best friend, whispering for the past week or two. He had every chance to tell me yet now he’s run off, only left me a letter with his reasoning.

Lee, poor Lee, had heard the bitter half of my wrath, promising me he would try his best to get hold of my idiot of a boyfriend. Heck, I could just feel they were experimenting with their newest products to come because I was sporting a yellow bruise on the side of my thigh and it was growing immensely painful.

Fred Weasley, you’re going to suffer for this.

Merlin, the thought of him was bringing tears to my eyes. This was the Yule Ball all over again. The git had ditched me that night, but he came back. He always did come back. The fear bloomed in my stomach knowing that this time, this time he wouldn’t be coming back. He said so in his letter, he wouldn’t be returning so as long as that cow of a professor was still here.

I huffed, standing to leave the common room. Being Fred Weasley’s soulmate was a big joke that Merlin or whoever was playing on me, yet it brought to me my best memories. My stomach sank, he was gone.

I bit back the tears that threatened to escape and muttered an excuse to my dorm mates before turning to leave, praying they wouldn’t follow me because I knew they were worried for me. I grumbled to myself as I left the common room, weaving through the halls towards the library.

I sighed contently when I saw the library was rather empty. I tore my bag off my shoulder and settled down into a desk. My arse of a boyfriend may have left, but I still had important exams that would determine my life to complete.

Hogsmeade was busy as always, bustling with students in third year and up, some on dates, some stuck to the side of their friends. I looked around the streets, it was slowly getting warmer as summer approached and I was thanking the heavens for that. I tried to spot the bright red head of hair that was apparently waiting for me.

Lee had managed to get a hold of his best friend and arranged for us to meet in Hogsmeade.

Walking through the excited sea of students, I tried to manoeuvre through the crowd when I spotted an oh so familiar head of hair. I picked up my pace and headed towards the tall gangly male.

He caught sight of me struggling through the crowd and threw me the cheekiest smile he could muster, only to be met with a glare.

Once I got through the crowd, I basically stomped towards the idiot. He held his arms open, expecting a hug only to be met with a hit to his stomach, which would cause both of us to most definitely sport a good bruise.

He winced at the impact and groaned, “What was that for?”

I simply glared at him and straightened my back, staring down at his hunched figure, “Is that really what you’re asking me, you idiot?”

He straightened up at my tone and knew he was definitely in trouble, “Look,” he paused, shifting uncomfortably in his jacket, “I’m sorry, it really was-”

“Cut the spontaneous bullshit, Weasley.” He frowned at my cold tone and I tried my best not to cry. I may have sounded brave now, but I was seconds from crying. I held my breath as I tried my best not to sound vulnerable, “Why couldn’t you have told me?”

I wanted to curse myself for sounding so small, and his frown softened. He removed his gaze from the floor to meet my sad eyes, and I could see the guilt filling his eyes, “I didn’t expect you to be this upset.”

“Then what did you expect, Fred?” He seemed to relax at my use of his first name and took a hesitant step toward me, “How would you feel if I just upped and left with only a letter as an explanation? I still don’t see why you didn’t tell me, so I could have prepared myself a bit better for the time you did leave.” I nibbled on my bottom lip, a stray tear gliding down my cheek which I quickly wiped with the sleeve of my jumper.

I shook my head when he went to take another step towards me, continuing to speak my innermost demons, “If this is a thing about trust-”

“Don’t be daft,” he was quick to cut me off, and I knew my words were wrong, but feelings took over my brain and I couldn’t stop myself.

“For me, it is Fred. This terrifies me, and you can’t blame me for thinking you would do this once we are finished with school.”

“This is different, I have a reason to leave. You know that.” His voice was stern, different from the silly tone he held before, and his eyes were cold.

“Do I?” The question rang in the air and the tears never seemed to stop coming, “Maybe this isn’t for the best. Maybe we-”

“No, you cannot do this. Not now.” He shook his head, his stern tone replaced by confusion. His eyes were begging me, begging for the truth. He knew I was lying to not only him, but myself.

“Fred, I can’t trust you.” It was a lie. I trusted this man with my life yet I continued to lie to him. He knew I was lying to him, it was my turn to beg. Beg for him to tell me I’m silly and to stop lying, to save our relationship. But he only nodded.

“Sure, okay then.”

“A break.” I left the statement out in the air. I wanted to slap myself across the face, to scream at myself and to ask what exactly I was doing, to try and knock some sense into myself. Yet, I continued to push myself away from the man I wanted and needed most. And he let me.

“If things work out, we’ll meet again someday,”

“And if they don’t?”

I didn’t answer his question, the answer was something that I was terrified of. Losing Fred was something that scared me beyond comprehension, yet here I was, making my worst fears come true.

“Just forget about it, Fred.”

“And just what should I forget about?” I wanted to physically stop myself from speaking, stop myself from hurting this man anymore. I wanted to snap out of it because the hurt in his voice, it wasn’t worth all of this pain. The tears that seemed to fill his eyes wasn’t worth all this, yet I continued.

“Us.”

I wanted him to call me stupid like he always did, to pull me by my elbow and hold me against his chest like he always did. I hated myself for hurting him, it was the last thing I had wanted to do. My mouth wouldn’t stop running, completely ignoring the conversations I played in my head the night before, the ones where I would hug him and tell him I missed him, the ones where I’d jab him on the shoulder and he would hug me and apologise, but instead I was a complete idiot.

My tears wouldn’t stop when I turned to leave, and they only seemed to increase when I knew he wouldn’t run after me. I pushed him far enough away from me that he wouldn’t run after me, and I hated myself beyond belief for it.

A year or so later.

Summer was hitting hard surprisingly.

Summer in the UK never seemed to be hot, but this year it was striking down, particularly in my tiny area of England. Although, summer never seemed to be a fun time, especially if Fred was no longer in the mix. Heck, even my family was upset we were no longer together, they owed him my life in so many ways.

Ever since the summer before our sixth year, he was a regular visitor in our house, so much so my parents had let him stay on more than one occasion. My mother always seemed to make the wedding jokes, but the underlying tone made it obvious she was far from joking.

Merlin, I missed him so bloody much.

Graduating Hogwarts was difficult. All the years spent there were now becoming insignificant, the gossips in our houses were barely thought about now. Some say a burden is lifted from your shoulders after graduating, but the burden of being an adult, finding a job and eventually moving out of my family home was heavier than school could ever be.

Surprisingly, the bruises seemed to decrease over time, and it seems as though the experimentation period had been long done, and seeing a glimpse of their shop whenever I went to work, I knew they had achieved their lifelong goal.

Working as a wandmaker had always been my dream, and I only ever confided in one person, and now he wanted nothing to do with me. Garrick Ollivander had agreed to let me be his apprentice and I had been working with him until the store was in ruins mere days ago. Working under such an incredible craftsman was more than I could ever ask for, (perhaps I had to thank my father’s status for that), but I couldn’t find it in myself to be excited, relieved that I had my life set out for me.

Something was itching in the back of my mind. The letter Dumbledore had given me days before his death remained unopened on my bedside table, and I tried to convinced myself it wasn’t important. But Dumbledore himself had handed me the letter, how could it not be important.

It’s been months since I was given the letter yet it still remained untouched.

I grumbled, cursing myself for not having any more restraint, and I walked back into my house and upstairs into my room. The letter was glaring at me, the red wax begging to be opened.

I hesitated for a moment before approaching my bedside table, ripping the letter open before I could second think about the situation.

My stomach flipped at the contents of the letter, Dumbledore had asked me to join the Order of The Phoenix, guessing I already knew about the elite group, and I did. Fred always told me everything- well he used to. Of course the man knew I wouldn’t open the letter until the last moment, because the date of the meeting and the date he had given me the letter were aeons apart, yet he knew.

The date of the meeting was etched right in the centre, and I knew this was it. The someday I had mentioned to Fred, and if he was willing to have me again, I was willing to give my all to him.

I second checked my bags, it seemed that I needed more than just an overnight bag from what Dumbledore had said in the letter, and I packed as much. I made sure I had my wand and any other important things before stepping into my fireplace, reading out the name of the place Dumbledore had written in the letter and threw the floo powder, letting the flames engulf me.

I was met by a warm living room and a Mrs Weasley who seemed to be fluffing the pillow before she snapped around and welcomed me into her arms. I smiled into the hug she gave me and greeted her, “It’s lovely to see you too, Mrs Weasley. But I would love to move my bags if I could please,”

“Oh! I’m sorry dear! Let me get out your way. Don’t be ridiculous, one of the boys will take it off your hands.” And then she bellowed out the boys’ names in the loudest voice she could muster before turning back to me with her signature smile, “Tea? Coffee, dear?”

“No, thank you. All I really want is to sit down for a bit if that’s alright.” I was exhausted, I hardly slept the night before because all I could think about was Fred. Ron sneaked around his mother to grab my bags off my hands and disappeared into the doorway he came through, only giving me an awkward smile as he did so.

“Yes, yes settle down, love. I’ll show you to the kitchen, ‘S where the rest of the Order are.” I could tell the older witch was itching to ask me something from the way she kept glancing at me as we walked down the long hall to the kitchen, “Dumbledore did say you would come around, we’ve been waiting for you for years, dear.”

I wasn’t surprised as to what she said to me, I knew Dumbledore had known I would come around later from the date in the later, I was more shocked at the fact she had said ‘we’, who else had been waiting for me?

The Order was bustling full of Weasleys, they were everywhere, and I was quite surprised to see Bill here. I had met Bill at one of the few Christmases he had come home, and it seemed like he never came home, not as much as Charlie at least.

I looked around the room expectantly, hoping to see Fred amongst the crowd but came up with nothing, only meeting the awkward eyes of George, who oddly seemed apologetic. Merlin, why couldn’t he dislike me? I broke his brother’s heart along with my own.

I sat down into the seat Molly had pulled out for me and suppressed a groan as I settled into the comfortable chair. The room seemed to grow quiet, some staring at the door, some staring at me. I knew he was here now and I tried to fight the urge to glance at the door yet it was useless.

I looked at him and it seemed he only got more handsome over the two years I hadn’t seen him. He no longer had those boyish features, only boyish charms. His face seemed more sculpted and he looked more built. Merlin, how could I have ever left this man.

I held the edge of my seat in my hand, tight enough for my knuckles to turn white. His brown eyes met mine, and I had expected them to be cold but this was different. He seemed completely isolated as his eyes met mine, the smile that was on his face was fading now.

Before I could even understand what happened, he was dragging me by the wrist down the halls, through doors until we settled at what seemed to be his room.

“What are you doing here?” His hand had never let go of my wrist and I was more than focused on it. I had missed his touch so much that this gave me multiple serotonin boosts at once, electricity was radiating off his hold and it was all I could focus on.

“Dumbledore invited me,” I could barely mutter the three words as I looked into his eyes. His walls were so high I couldn’t break them down if I tried, and I knew they had to come down willingly or this would all be lost.

“It’s been so long,” His words held so much weight. He was aware, we were both aware that we had both done some serious growing up which we needed, and maybe we didn’t know each other so well anymore.

“I missed you.” My voice was barely above a whisper as I adverted my stare to the wooden floor below us. I couldn’t lie anymore, I didn’t want to lie to him anymore. I never wanted to tell a lie to him again because it always came with pain. My words stayed in the air in a way that I hated. Did he not miss me?

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling me by the wrist he still held and towards his chest, “I missed you too.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and burrowed my face into his neck, and I knew, this was our someday. This was our time, we had grown as people and now we could go back to each other. We were no longer dumb 17-year-olds who thought they knew what they were doing, we were older and much wiser.

Fred sniffled into my hair and I realised the idiot was crying, but I couldn’t deny that I was too, “Is this our someday?”

His question came out as a whisper and I dug myself further into his jacket, “This is most definitely our someday, Freddie.”

Being with Fred during a war was almost impossible, yet we managed. Our houses were reconnected by floo and he frequented at my home once again, much to my parents’ pleasure.

The war. It was here now, it was inevitable yet I wanted to avoid it, to spend more time with Fred as selfish as it sounded.

The castle was now in ruins. The sanctuary of all the students was now crumbling.

I looked around the castle, ran through the wrecked halls trying to find Fred. We had both been assigned to two different parts of the castle to protect, yet I couldn’t stop myself from having to see him. Something was wrong, I could feel it.

The world felt as though it was slowing down as I deflected the spells dark wizards had been throwing from left and right, throwing back my own curses on the way.

My steps were getting slower over time, and as I neared his part of the castle I knew nothing was right in that moment. My ears were ringing, no longer being able to hear my surroundings.

I couldn’t hear Percy, but I could see he was screaming, crying. And it was over Fred’s body. The whole world seemed to cave in on me. This must have been some joke, a big joke the world was playing on me. There was no way in Merlin’s name he was gone. He couldn’t have been. He had promised me he would never leave me again.

My feet seemed to drag along the floor as I approached them. Percy, who heard my approach, snapped his head towards me, holding out his wand until he saw who it was. Merlin, the man was wrecked. I could barely breathe once I reached his side, “This must be some joke, Weasley.”

My voice was hoarse, my throat running dry as I tried my best to compose myself, “You promised, Fred! You promised you’d never leave my side without telling me! Even leaving a letter behind would mean much more than this.”

My heartbeat was banging against my ears, and I realised. What did this mean for the soulmate link? Death was knocking at my door, I could tell. All I had to do was open the bloody door.

I sunk to the floor crying, no longer being able to hold myself up. I was dying, and I wanted to. Percy remained silent as he watched the life drain from my face.

It happened so quickly. I hadn’t expected death to consume me so quick. The last picture in my mind before my body fell limp was his smile, the genuine one he held whenever he was happy, not that cheeky smirk, not that sheepish grin, but that big happy smile.

It was warm. I felt as though I was floating on a bed of clouds as I refused to open my eyes, to wake up from my sleep.

The sleep I had just woken up from was so good and I hadn’t felt this good after a sleep in what felt like years, and in all honesty that was probably true.

“Love, come on it’s time to wake up,”

“Five more minutes, Fred.” I yawned, turning away from his voice, digging my face into the blanket that was draped over me.

“You said that ten minutes ago, love.”

“And what about it?” I asked, turning my head back toward him. It seemed as though I was dreaming, surely he wasn’t truly here. And so I thought of this as a dream and conversed with him like I always did.

“I have to show you around, don’t I?” I could tell from his voice that he was smiling, and it made me want to return it. I finally opened my eyes and met his own warm brown ones, he seemed so real, “Good morning, lovely.”

“G’morning, Freddie.” The smile that itched at the corner of my mouth took over and I beamed up at him. I had never felt so happy to be in his presence, but what he said earlier rung in my ears, “What do you mean by showing me around?”

“Well,” he paused to press a kiss to my forehead, “it’s not every day you meet your soulmate in the afterlife.”

#harry potter #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter x male reader #harry potter x gender neutral reader #fred weasley x male reader #fred weasley x gender neutral reader

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automaticneon · 3 years

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Clouds

Chapter 1: Automatic Love (NSFT)

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: “When desires go unfulfilled, they turn into needs”

Clouds is the most technologically advanced dollhouse in Madripoor. It’s a void for people to escape into, or at least the lucky few that can afford to visit.

And Zemo is very lucky.

The reader meets a strange new client, a man of mystery and poetic language and when she uncovers a secret most valuable to Helmut Zemo, their relationship goes from professional to something much more profound.

A/N: It’s essentially a Cyberpunk AU, but you don’t need to know a thing about the game! I’ve just borrowed the names of locations and the concept of Clouds. The reader is essentially a high clas s*x worker, if that isn’t your cup of tea, this probably isn’t the fic for you!

If this was high-end, there was no way to tell.

At least that’s what Zemo thinks as his car pulls up outside the mega-building. It’s an unsightly structure but not uncommon for this area of Madripoor, about fifty-storey’s tall and covered in vibrant LED screens.

For a minute he considers instructing his driver to take him back to his apartment in high-town so he can pretend this never happened. He had been averse to this idea already, but a friend from his military days had been convinced he should try coming here. “It’s cutting-edge” is what he had been told, but what exactly cutting-edge meant was a mystery to Zemo.

“Would you like me to wait for you, Sir?” the driver asks, snapping Zemo out of his thoughts.

The baron swipes his hand over his face, taking one last look at the building outside the window before responding.

“No, I’ll call when I’m done.”

He reckons his driver knows what he’s doing here. Mega-building H8 was known for only one thing, its position on the layline between high and low town meant it was frequented by all wealthy inhabitants of Madripoor. Mobsters and politicians alike congregated at this monster of architecture, hopeful of its contents and desperate to go unrecognised.

And now they can add a Baron to that list of unfortunates, Zemo thinks with resignation.

He leaves the car before the embarrassment can fester in his chest.

The building is worse up close than at a distance.

Climbing the flight of concrete stairs Zemo is transported from the sidewalk and into the belly of the beast. The entrance to the megabuilding is a low-ceilinged sprawl of street-vendors and food stalls. It’s loud and busy, but Zemo has no problem blending into the crowd. He weaves through the stream of people, illuminated by neon signs that grow increasingly vulgar in their images the deeper into the building he moves.

Eventually, towards the back of the building, he finds the metal gates of an industrial-style elevator. He slides the grate open and steps inside to find the space is lit by multiple illuminated advertisement screens rotating through various commercials, each more obscene than the last. For a moment Zemo takes the moral high ground, musing with distaste about the sort of men these adverts are geared towards. He takes the moral high ground until he remembers what he has come here to do. Defeatedly he admits to himself he has no right to feel lofty.

The illuminated keypad flashes at him, and he reaches out to input his destination.

Floor 12 – CLOUDS

The elevator is slow as it climbs past the levels of cheap apartments and eventually comes to stop at level 12. As Zemo goes to open the grate again, he wonders if he’ll be greeted by some of that high-class sophistication he was promised.

He is not.

This floor is much like the entrance hall, only this time it’s a balcony that wraps around the interior of the mega-building and faces down into an open-air atrium. Zemo notices that the elevator he steps out of does not go any higher than this level, the floors above must be the luxury apartments and must have their own entrance. He begins to follow the neon signs again.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this?” A man near him says to his friend. Zemo bristles at the strong American accent, but carefully allows himself to eavesdrop.

“I don’t know, man,” The friend responds “It just feels wrong, you know? Like I’ll be cheating on my girl with one of these dolls”

“But that’s just it! These girls are dolls, man. They’re not real. It’s like sleeping with a blow-up-doll. No difference”

“You know that’s not true; the difference is they’re real. They’re made of flesh.”

“That’s what makes them great though. They’re dolls made of flesh.”

Zemo moves on before he can hear anymore.

He follows the signs until he reaches a wide hallway into the building, and there at the end is the rather simple looking entrance to Clouds dollhouse. The low ceiling of the hallway allows for little decoration, but he supposes a place with such an infamous reputation needs little in terms of advertisement. Soft pink neon signs flash the name of the establishment, and beside the double glass doors a glitchy hologram of a woman dances away. As he approaches, a pre-recorded voice rings out from a speaker at the base of the hologram.

“Looks like you could use a little automatic love.”

He refuses to acknowledge the projection.

Inside clouds is arguably worse than outside. The hallway is lined with tattered posters and it smells of something cheap and artificial. When Zemo enters the small, empty reception the lady behind the desk looks up with a smile.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

None of you can hear a thing from the changing room.

“Do you think he’ll fire her?”

“I’m not sure. Depends how angry the client was,”

“Shut up I’m trying to hear,”

The room falls silent as Divine presses her ear to the door.

Moments ago the dressing room had been full of the usual chatter as you and the other dolls prepared for the evening shift. There was nothing to indicate the night would be anything but normal, that was until a few minutes ago when Woodman, the caretaker of dolls, had knocked furiously at the door and demanded that Azure come to his office down the hall for an immediate meeting.

“Is it just Woodman?” you ask. Azure could be abrasive at times, but she was certainly one of you favourite colleagues and you desperately wanted her to avoid being fired by management.

“I think so. I can’t hear anyone else.” Divine says, leaning back from the door.

“She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” one of the other dolls assures the room “She’s been here the longest. If they haven’t fired her yet, I doubt they ever will.”

“True. We can’t let this ruin a good Friday night. Five minutes until we need to be out in the booths, girls” Divine announces, and promptly returns to her table to finish her makeup.

Moments before the timer goes off the dressing room door flies open, and Azure stalks back to her table in silence. She’s not upset, but you can see the frustration hidden behind a poor attempt at offhand indifference. You want to ask if she’s alright, but the aggressive way she’s searching through her desk drawer makes you think it’s better to leave her be. The other girls do the same, cautiously looking over at her but making no attempt at conversation.

When the timer rings out you take one final sip of water and head to the door, grabbing the key-card for booth three as you leave.

“Welcome to clouds, where we always know what you’re looking for.”

The pink light of the glowing reception desk illuminates her face from below. That, combined with her uncomfortably bright smile makes the receptionist look like some sort of robot from a sci-fi film. Zemo lets out an amused huff at the very ambitious welcome promise.

“With all due respect, how could you know exactly what it is I want.”

“Clouds always knows. Your deepest desire – we find it. You’ll have your needs fulfilled – and maybe much more. ‘Less’ is not a word we use around here.” The receptionist replies.

“And how is that supposed to work then,” Zemo questions with a tilt of his head.

“Our algorithm searches your social media. With your permission it will create a personal profile based on any information if can gather, including personal preferences for you partners appearance. The algorithm will then select a doll for you, and create an experience based off that information.,” She slides a form across the desk “of course we ensure this is entirely confidential, this form confirms our promise.”

“I’ll admit I’m impressed. However I do not have a social media presence I’m afraid.” Zemo responds.

He couldn’t lie, the process seemed interesting. It was obviously a successfully programmed algorithm if the establishment had such a strong reputation. He found himself for the first time tonight not entirely doubting his choice to come here. He was interested to see what they would do for his situation.

“In that case I’ll have to ask you a few general questions to select a doll for you. If you are unsatisfied with their performance, you’ll be entitled to a refund at the end of the session.”

The receptionist begins to read a series of questions from her computer screen, gender preferences, what sort of experience he’s looking for. She concludes with organising payment, and the price is eyewatering even with the slight discount she applies since they cannot use the algorithm. When all is paid and signed for, the receptionist asks for a safe word. Admittedly it throws Zemo for a minute.

“It’s company policy” she says.

“Pontiac” he says bluntly, after a moment of thought.

“Fantastic.” The receptionist enters his response to the computer “Welcome to clouds. Serenity will be waiting for you in booth three.”

Zemo passes through another set of double doors and finds himself in a labyrinth of pink lights. The walls are lined with black, opaque glass and every so often a blue neon number protrudes from the wall indicates the booth behind it.

It doesn’t take long for him to find booth three, but he pauses before pressing the button to open the door. He takes a breath, collects his thoughts and lets his head and shoulders drop. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection in the tinted glass. Five years ago the thought of coming to a place like this would never have touched his mind, even in his questionable youth he had always been opposed these places. The risk that they were run unethically was far too great for his conscience. But he was not the man he was five years ago. Since Sokovia he wondered if he had a conscience at all anymore.

He presses the button, and the glass panel slides open.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the room. It’s dimly lit, faint blue and purple lights shine against the walls that are lined with the same dark, opaque glass as outside. There’s a chic, white sofa against the left wall, and against the right is a simple bed.

Sat atop it, kneeling with her thighs spread and covered by a short black night dress is the prettiest girl he’s seen in years.

He’s handsome, is the first thing you think when the glass door slides open.

It’s rare that you ever receive a client you’re inclined to call attractive, even the most conventionally attractive men that come here bring with them such a foul soul that it taints their appearance. Not this man, though.

He’s smartly dressed in dark trousers and a well-fitting grey jumper. His hair is styled nicely, it’s either brown or very dark blond (you can’t tell in the coloured lighting). He carries himself well, but after a year of working here you’ve grown accustomed to seeing through the façade’s of your clients. He’s apprehensive. Unsure if he belongs here. Hesitant.

“You must be Helmut. It’s nice to meet you,”

You try to make your voice sound soft and gentle, cocking your head to one side to beckon him in. You get the sense he wants something authentic, or at least that’s what his profile had said when it was sent through from reception moments ago. No porn-star moans or obscene pick-up lines tonight.

He collects himself, and the harsh line his lips have been pressed into relaxes as he enters the room. The glass panel slides shut, trapping the two of you in the bubble of the booth. It’s tranquil. You think he must need that.

“And you must be ‘Serenity’” He responds, crossing the room to sit on the sofa. His eyes don’t leave you as your ‘name’ rolls of his tongue with amusement. You can hear the next question in your head before he even opens his mouth again.

“So what’s your real name?”

They always ask you that. They ask every doll that. The clients are desperate to form a connection with you. To brag to their friends that they have a special relationship with a doll at clouds. You’ve never told anyone your real name before, it’s against company policy. Clouds attracts the rich of Madripoor, and rich in Madripoor usually means dangerous. It’s for your own protection more than anything else, you really don’t need work following you home.

You picked a name the day you were hired and that’s the name every client has known you by. This man will be no different. You begin your usual response:

“A name is a name, Helmut. A title. An advertisement of who you are. I want my name to tell you exactly who I am, so that you can know everything about me. I want to bring you peace.”

He adjusts his hips and rests his arms across the back of the sofa. He regards you quietly, and you’re positive he can tell that your response was a deflection. His eyes squint slightly, and a flash of humour appears in his dark pupils.

“Well I hardly think that’s fair. You get to call me by my name, but I don’t get to know yours?” He lets out a huff of laughter “Actually, I don’t think I’ll let you use my name. We should be equals, should we not?”

You admit you’re enjoying this. The smooth accent and playful tone of his voice keeps you interested. You swing your feet around so that you’re sat facing him on the bed, reclining back on your palms to match his casual stance.

“What should I call you then?”

“You said a name is just a title. So then my title can become my name. You can call be Baron, Serenity” He says your name like it’s some sort of inside joke, taunting you to give up and tell him who you really are. You won’t be so easily swayed.

“So what’s a Baron doing in Madripoor then?” You say with genuine curiosity. If it weren’t for the NDA’s you’re forced to sign you would be buzzing to tell the other girls who you’re spending the night with. You can’t imagine that aristocracy visits this place frequently. “And do you drink?”

“I do, thank you” he says, and you hop down from the bed and walk to the low table in front of the sofa that carries a few glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking alcohol. You know he’s looking at the satin hem of the night dress as it tickles to top of your thighs, and when you bend down to pour him a glass, you make sure he gets a tasteful peak at your cleavage.

“I’m here to work, actually.”

Did aristocrats work? You thought they were just for show.

“I’m… translating some documents. It’s taking me a very long time,” He continues, watching intently as you finish preparing his drink.

“A Baron and a translator? Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate” You loop around the table, perching beside him on the sofa and handing him his drink.

“It’s more of a personal project I suppose, but a very important one” he says, accepting the drink with his free hand. The one that rests behind you on the back of the sofa comes up to rest between your shoulder blades. It’s a very gentle touch, just the tips of his fingers making contact with yours skin and moving in a tiny little circle. He’s testing the waters with you, seeing how receptive you are. It’s almost gentlemanly.

“It must mean a great deal to you. We could talk about it, if you like? We can talk about anything you want to,” You reach up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying how he melts into the action.

“Anything but your name?” He shoots you teasing look from the corner of his eye, and you give a little strand of his hair a small playful tug in response.

“Anything but that, Baron”

“Tell me something else about you. Like why you came to Madripoor, I can tell you weren’t born here.”

Jesus you can’t tell if this man is a pest or just being polite. It’s unusual for him to be asking these questions of you, most men would usually have you on your knees by now. You hum and give him one last stroke down the back of his neck, before climbing off the sofa and walking back towards the bed.

“Very perceptive. I’m not from Madripoor, no,” you crawl onto the bed, taking your time so that the baron can take a good look at where the night dress rides up over the curve of your ass “but we’ve only just met, and only my friends get to know my life story.”

You settle yourself comfortably at the top of the bed, lying down and propped up on your elbows so you can maintain the measured look he’s giving you.

“Perhaps I should come over there and get to know you better” he says calmly, with the barest hint of a suggestive undertone.

Thank god he’s dropped the topic of your true identity. You can handle sex; you don’t need an interrogation tonight. Slipping into character you drop your voice to a low whisper and cock your eyebrow.

“Perhaps you should”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile as he accepts your little challenge. In one fluid motion he downs the rest of his drink, places the empty glass back on the table, and rises to walk towards the bed. No, he stalks towards the bed with a natural swagger that admittedly makes your chest squeeze tight.

Within a second he’s onto you, slotting himself between your parted thighs and pressing his lips to yours. Your baron kisses well, is the only thing you’re capable of thinking as he uses his body to push you down into the cushions. One of his hands slides up your body, skimming across your neck before coming to rest below your jaw. He doesn’t squeeze, just gently holds you in place so that he can kiss you how he pleases.

After a moment he tilts your head up slightly, pausing the kiss so he can look down at you. You reckon you look a picture of arousal, pupils blown and cheeks flushes as you catch your breath. Your baron seems to agree; he’s looking at you like the cat that caught the canary, and you shiver when his grip gets just a fraction tighter on your jaw.

“So pretty,” he praises quietly as he dips down to skim his lips over your pulse.

The tender pressure makes you whine and arch up beneath him and he acknowledges you with a hum and a hand on your breast. As he continues his assault on your neck, the free hand on your chest squeezes the flesh softly, finding your nipple beneath the silky fabric and circling it with his thumb.

When it pebbles to his satisfaction he pulls away and you keen at the loss of contact. He tuts, pulling down the straps of your nightgown and peeling it down below your chest, shuffling down slightly so that his face is level with your now exposed torso.

He breathes out against your nipple before latching onto it, with one hand he squeezes your neglected breast and the other slides from its place on your jaw to the base of your neck. Again he doesn’t squeeze, just exerts a level of control that lets you know where he wants you. If you wanted to you could break free, but why would you want that? The way his thumb begins to circle your pulse point has you practically melting into the bed, the thought of telling him to stop can barely manifest in your mind.

You reach down to dig your fingers into the baron’s back, instead only making contact with his expensive-feeling jumper. You huff in disappointment and pull him from where he’s entertaining himself with your tits, meeting his hazy eyes that are riddled with confusion.

“I thought we were trying to get familiar with one another?” you ask, and his eyebrows pinch in confusion “How are we supposed to do that when you’ve got so much between us?”

The baron’s face melts in amusement, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from you to pull the jumper off and start undressing fully. You take a moment to catch your breath, watching him peel away his clothes to reveal his impressive body. He’s slender but impeccably well-toned, his torso is covered by a light dusting of hair that leads your eyes down to the impressive bulge in his underwear.

Tonight should be very entertaining.

Your sit up, reaching out to run your hand down his chest but before you can begin to pull at the waistband of his underwear, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

“I don’t know where you think you were going, but I was quite enjoying myself” he says roguishly. He gathers both of your wrists into one hand and pins you pack against the bed, with both hands restrained you have no choice but to let him bury hid face into your neck again.

This time he uses his free hand to skim along the inside of your thigh, getting high enough that you think he’ll reach the apex between your legs but instead he trails his fingers back down towards your knee again.

You whine in frustration as he continues his cycle of teasing up and down your leg, he ignores you until you tug against his grip on your wrists. He makes a low noise and quickly tightens his hold on you. The sudden movement sends a chill down your spine, and for the first time in a long while, you feel genuinely inclined to beg a man.

“Please-” you breathe out shakily “I want-”

Your voice cuts off suddenly as his hand moves boldly to cup your pussy. You can hear how embarrassingly wet you are as his fingers move through your folds, and he hums happily when he finds your clit with his thumb. Slowly he circles it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you wriggling in his grip.

“This? Is this what you want?” he asks, and his voice has dropped at least another octave.

You shake your head furiously. Right now this is just not enough, you can feel his dick rubbing against your leg and you’re beyond desperate to have him fuck you open with it.

“No?” he says with feigned innocence “What is it that you want then?”

“More” is all you can get out “I want you in me. I’m wet enough, see?”

Your baron seems unconvinced. He circles a finger around your entrance before pushing in, rocking it gently inside you as he tries to decide if he thinks you’re really ready. He continues for a moment more before adding a second finger, now with two fingers stuffed in you and his thumb still working on your clit you’re almost ready to cum. It’s making you desperate, and it doesn’t help at all when he buries his face in your tits again.

Finally he lets your wrists go and immediately your hands grab at whatever part of him they can, eventually you settle with gripping his shoulder and hair as you try desperately to urge him to fuck you. He gets you right to the edge, literal moments away from finishing on his fingers when he pulls them away from you with an obscenely wet noise.

You let out a frustrated, desperate whine as he separates from you. He looks down at you with satisfaction as he takes in your flustered state.

“Stay still, you’ll get what you want” he says, and he reaches for his pants to retrieve a condom. It takes him a minute to pull himself free of his underwear and put the condom on. In your desperate state it feels like an eternity.

He positions himself between your legs, lifting the hem of the nightdress so he can get a good view of your pussy whilst he lines himself up. He pauses before he presses forward, looking up at you for any last-minute hesitation.

You nod your consent instantly, not trusting yourself to get any words out.

When he pushes in you think you might cum from that alone. He’s a perfect size, long enough that you feel as though you could feel him in your belly. When he finally bottoms out you can’t help but squeeze him tight, and he slumps over you, his face tucked into the side of your neck and swears in a language you don’t recognise. He nudges his hips forward as if to get deeper than he already is. The both of you gasp out at the sensation and he repeats it a few times, just the tiniest movements of his hips that causes him to rub against something deep inside you.

He pushes himself up on his forearms so that he can get a good look at you. In turn, you get to see the state of him as well – his eyes are impossibly dark and glazed over with something wildly lustful, his once pristine hair hangs dishevelled over his reddened forehead. Your baron’s lip curls wickedly as he sets a punishing pace, pushing you deeper into the sheets. It feels like he’s trying to fuck you through the bed.

His previous teasing had done a real number on you, and within minutes you’re moments away from cumming. You don’t think you could get much out of your mouth other than pathetic little whimpers right now, instead you reach up and pull the baron down for a deep kiss, one that he melts into fully.

When you do cum it’s fucking incredible. You’d never use a word that strong to describe a client before, but your baron brings with him many firsts for you. You cry out into his mouth as he picks up the pace to ride you through your high, your fingers dig into his shoulder so tightly you wonder if you’ve drawn blood. If you have, he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything it spurs him on as he fucks you to the point of oversensitivity.

He finishes just as you think you can’t handle anymore. His hips stutter momentarily, and tremors run down his spine in waves. The entire time he’s rambling in a foreign tongue against your skin until his pants of exhaustion overtake his ability to speak.

Your baron collapses on top of you but you hardly have the brainpower to care that he’s crushing you. Instead you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, listening to him as he catches his breath against your chest.

You yourself are struggling to even out your breathing, it feels as though you’ve run a marathon and the man on top of you seems thoroughly amused by that.

“Come now,” he says as he smooths a hand up your side “I wasn’t that good.”

You can hardly help the genuine laugh that escapes you.

“Humility doesn’t look good on you baron.”

The man in question huffs out a laugh before peeling himself away from your sweat-slicked body.

“I suppose I should make myself scarce. I imagine you have other, much more interesting clients to see tonight” he says, moving to sit on the side of the bed.

“You can stay and talk if you want, it’s entirely up to you. You paid for this, after all.” You say, secretly hoping he’ll stay for just a minute longer. You don’t intend to entertain anyone else tonight, but part of you is quite intrigued by your newest client.

“Well in that case I have one final question I’d like to ask” he says as he slowly begins to dress himself again.

“Ask away.”

Once his trousers are securely over his hips he pauses to look at you. There’s a soft expression on his face, as if he already knows he’s not going to get the answer he wants.

“What’s your real name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised that he’s asked again. Truthfully, it’s not the question itself that’s thrown you, it’s how tempted you are to answer it. His voice is so compelling at the moment that your name nearly springs from your tongue without you noticing.

“Oh baron,” you say quietly “you know I can’t tell you that.”

His lips press together in acceptance, and for a second his eyes leave yours. As he begins to get ready again, he gives his response.

“It was worth a shot.”

#my writing #clouds #baron zemo #helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x y/n #marvel x y/n #tfatws x reader #tfatws #marvel

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough.

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services.

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone.

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone.

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?”

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly.

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed.

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it.

She trusted him.

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy.

Enzo did not match lightly.

His magic liked the match.

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her.

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce.

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.”

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty.

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother.

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabbles #yeah #this sort of an interesting kind of crack

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falcqns · 3 years

Text

Adore You

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: 3 times Chris tries to tell you he loves you, and the 1 time he does.

Warnings: smut, angst, swearing, fluff

A/N: hope you enjoy!

Walk in your rainbow paradise Strawberry lipstick state of mind

He first realized he was in love with you the first time he hung out with you off set.

The rest of your co stars were going to be filming late except you two, so you invited him over for a movie night, to which he agreed.

You had run around before he arrived making sure your apartment was presentable before he arrived. You made a whole bunch of snack, including your moms hot dip, which was a favourite of everyone who tried it.

When the doorbell rang, you walked up to let him in, and greeted him.

“Hey!” You said, giving him a smile.

“Hey, thanks for having me,” He said, taking off his shoes.

“Well, if you hadn’t come over, I would have had a very boring night involving me, my cat, and Harry Potter,” You joked.

He took off his coat and hung it up. He looked around at your apartment as he followed you. You didn't have a very big apartment, but it looked very spacious, especially for Los Angeles.

It was open concept, the kitchen, dining and living room all connected with a hallway leading back to what he guessed was the bedroom and bathroom.

“You've got a pretty nice place here,” He mentioned, as you poured him a drink in the kitchen.

You chuckled. “Well, it’s super cheap, it’s in a nice spot, and I knew the girl who rented it before me, she just moved to Hawaii with her baby daughter.” You finished before taking a sip of your own drink, and leading Chris over to the couch.

Your faded calico cat, Rella, lifted her head up and meowed at the two of you, before climbing onto Chris.

“What’s her name?” He asked, as he pet her gently, and listened to her purr.

“Her names Rella, she’s my childhood cat. She’s getting older and my mom thought she’s be happier out here with me instead of home in Canada with my 3 loud siblings,” You said, watching as she got comfortable on his lap.

The two of you spent the rest of the night watching Harry Potter, and chatting, before Chris headed out around midnight with a promise of movie night being at his place.

As he hugged you goodbye, he knew he wanted to tell you how much he loved you.

I get so lost inside your eyes Would you believe it?

The first time he tried to confess his feelings, he messed up.

He was too scared to tell you face to face, so he settled on sending you a bouquet of flowers with a note confessing.

Which, he did, but he (stupidly) forgot to sign the card which would tell you it was from him until after it was sent and he couldn't cancel it.

So when you called him ecstatic about having a secret admirer, his heart hurt a little.

He was going to tell you it was him, but then you almost broke him in two with one sentence.

“I wonder if it’s from the man I’m in love with,” You asked, and his stomach dropped.

Of course you were in love with someone else. You were beautiful, strong, and an amazing actress. It only made sense, but it didn't hurt any less.

You don't have to say you love me You don't have to say nothing You don't have to say you're mine

When you announced you had a boyfriend, he tried to tell you again, which obviously didn't work either.

Instead of just calmly telling you about his feelings, and acknowledging that he couldn't have you, he got angry.

He wasn't angry at the fact that you were taken, he was angry at who you were dating. “I cannot believe you're dating Noah Centeno of all people,” He said.

You crossed your arms. “What’s wrong with Noah? He’s a nice guy, and I like him.” You reasoned.

He scoffed and looked up from the carrots he was cutting. “You don’t love him.”

“I can see myself loving him,”

He dropped the knife, and braced his hands on the counter before lifting his head and looking at you.

“You should be dating someone you’re in love with, and who loves you back,” He said.

You slammed your glass on the counter top, and stood up.

“JUST BECAUSE I DON’T LOVE HIM NOW, DOESN’T MEAN I NEVER WILL!” You screamed. “WE’VE BEEN DATING A WEEK!”

“I DON’T CARE, Y/N! I’M TELLING YOU HE’S NOT GOOD FOR YOU, AND IT’S JUST GOING TO END BADLY!” He screamed right back at you.

“FUCK YOU! YOU SAY THAT ABOUT EVERY GUY I TAKE AN INTEREST IN AS IF IT’S ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS! I’M DONE WITH IT, CHRIS!” You screamed, tears streaming down your face as you turned away from him and grabbed your purse. You walked towards the door, and he came after you.

“Y/N, wait-” He started to say before you slammed the door in his face.

He turned away from the door to face Dodger.

“I fucked up bad, I know.” He said, and Dodger barked in agreement.

Honey I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you

Just as he’d suspected, your relationship crashed and sank to the bottom of the ocean quicker than the Titanic, but he didn’t find out until a drama news source got hold of the story, and announced it.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Noah Centeno are over,” The title read.

He knew he shouldn’t click on it, that he shouldn’t believe it. But, as he scrolled further, he saw a post from you confirming the breakup.

‘I hate to have to make this post, but certain organizations have somehow gotten ahold of the news, and there’s no denying it. Noah and I have decided to end our relationship. I will not go into details about what happened between us in this post, but it’s not hard to figure out what happened if you google it. I have no ill feelings towards Noah, sometimes things just don’t work out. We had a great time together, and I will always be grateful for him.’ The post read.

He scrolled back up and clicked on the article. He lightly skimmed through it, before a sentence caught his eye.

‘Sources are reporting that the relationship ended when Centeno was spotted kissing another woman in a Las Vegas night club, when Y/N was at home in Canada visiting family.’

That mother fucker.

He dialled your number and tried to call you, but you didn't answer, so he decided to text you instead.

‘Hey, Y/N. I just saw your post about you and Noah and I wanted to saw that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things that I won't mention over text, but I’m mainly sorry for what that asshole did to you. I’m here for you if you need anything, just let me know,” The message read. Sure, he had thought about telling you how he felt in that message, but he knew it wasn't the right time.

He sent the message, and you responded less than a minute later.

‘Why do you care? You got what you wanted, him out of my life. You were right, so I don’t know why you're even pretending to care.’

That hurt, he thought to himself, before putting his phone down. You were right of course. He was a complete asshole to you, so why was he pretending he cared, when he obviously didn't. He had gotten what he wanted, shouldn't he be happy?

Because you were hurting, that’s why.

Your wonder under summer skies (summer skies) Brown skin and lemon over ice Would you believe it?

He woke up the next morning, and decided that enough was enough, and he needed to tell you.

You hadn’t answered him all week, and he was getting annoyed. He wanted to talk to you, and sort shit out, but it’s kind of hard for him to do that when you refuse to talk to him, so he called Adrianne Palicki.

You were a part of the cast of The Orville, and Adrianne was one of your best friends.

“Hello?” She said as she answered.

“Hey, it’s Chris,” He said.

“Hey, what’s up,” she responded.

“Well, I was wondering if you could convince Y/N to talk to me,” he pleaded.

Adrianne sighed, before continuing. “I don’t know Chris, she’s pretty mad at you. I mean she refuses to even watch Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. any more, she’s so mad at you,”

He ran his hands through his hair as he spoke again. “I know. I messed up bad. I just- I’m in love with her, and I let my feelings get the best of me, and I want to make it right. I just need you to get her to talk to me,”

“Alright, I’ll talk to her. What do you want me to tell her?” Adrianne asked.

“J-Just tell her to come to my place Saturday at 8, and I’ll explain everything.”

“Kay, I’ll tell her. But Evans, if you hurt her, I think I still have my Mockingbird batons around here somewhere,” She threatened, and Chris chuckled.

“You got it,” He said before hanging up.

You had no idea how you had managed to let Adrianne talk you into this. I mean, you were still mad at Chris, and didn't see that ending anytime soon, yet here you were. Standing at his doorstep, at 7:55 on Saturday night.

You knocked, and heard Dodger barking before the door opened to reveal Chris.

“Hey,” He said, giving you a smile.

“Why am I here?” You stated, plainly.

He gestured you to come in, and you followed him. You took your shoes off, and followed him into the kitchen before you were attacked by Dodger.

“Hey, buddy! I missed you!” You exclaimed.

“Well, he’s not the only one,” Chris said, before handing you a drink as you stood up.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” You said.

Chris sighed, before getting straight to the point.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted, and for what I said. It was stupid, and I let my personal feelings get in the way of our friendship. I really am sorry,” he said, looking you deeply in the eyes.

Your eyebrows scrunched.

“You’re personal feelings? What does that mean?”

He cleared his throat before confessing.

“You remember that bouquet of flowers you got from your ‘secret admirer’?”

You nodded. “Yeah...”

He looked up at you. “That was from me,” He said, looking down at his feet.

He heard the sound of you putting your glass on the counter, and he looked up just in time to see you walk up to him, grab his face, and press your lips to his.

He put his glass down, and wrapped his arms around you, before lifting you up and onto the counter.

A few moments later, he broke the kiss, and looked you in the eyes.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You asked, resting your forehead against his.

“I was scared. It’s a stupid excuse, but that’s it.” He responded, before kissing you again.

You don't have to say you love me I just wanna tell you something Lately you've been on my mind

Less than a minute later your back was pressed against the sheets of his bed, with his lips still on yours.

His lips left yours to trail down your neck, his beard tickling you sensitive skin there.

Chris ran his hand down your sundress clad body, and gripped your left leg, bringing it over his hip.

You moaned at the feeling of his jean covered hard on against your core.

You brought your hands up and around his neck. He pushed his tongue into your mouth as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He disconnected his lips from your skin, and looked you in the eye.

“You want this?” He mumbled out, and you nodded. He sat up on his knees and fumbled with the buttons on the front of your dress. He struggled for a few more moments before he gave up.

“I can’t get it,” He groaned, and you giggled.

You sat up and quickly undid them. Chris watched you for a few moments before he began stripping himself. Your dress was thrown on the floor, followed by his shirt and jeans moments later, before his mouth attacked yours once more.

You moaned out when he moved his mouth from your mouth to your chest. His hands trailed up from your hips, to your back to undo your bra, which he did successfully.

He threw his head back and moaned at the sight of your uncovered breasts, before pressing kisses to them.

You ran your fingers through his hair as his mouth moved lower.

He stopped just below your belly button, and his fingers looped into your underwear, before pulling them down.

He made eye contact with you, before lifting your left leg over his right shoulder, and diving into you. His tongue swiped over your clit twice, befarepressing into your entrance.

You cried out, and tugged on his hair.

“C-Chris, please,” You begged.

He removed his mouth from you to smirk in your direction.

“Yes, my love?”

You groaned, and tugged on his hair again. “Get up here, and fuck me,”

He chuckled, but did as you asked. He sat up and tugged off his own underwear.

He spread your legs again, before gripping his own hard cock, and lining himself up with your entrance.

“Not my fault you taste like fucking heaven, baby,” He quipped.

You rolled your eyes, and then threw your head back as he began to push in.

He bottomed out, and hovered over you again.

“You ready?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Obviously,” You said, before Chris pulled out slightly, and then snapped his hips against yours.

You cried out, gripping his biceps while he set a quick pace in his hips.

Honey I'd walk through fire for you Just let me adore you

“I’ve wanted you like this for months, baby,” Chris growled out, snapping his hips against yours. “Ever since our first movie night, fuck.”

You moaned out. “I’ve wanted you like this since before we met,”

Chris bottomed out, and ground his hips against yours.

“Did he make you feel this good? Did he fill you like this?” Chris growled into your ear.

“N-No!” “Yeah, I’m the only one who makes you feel this good, right?”

You nodded, and moved your hips under his. “I’m close, Chris,” You whined.

“Me too, baby, me too. God, you kill me,” He moaned out. “How’d you manage to make me last barely 5 minutes inside you,”

He dropped his torso against yours, and grasped your face in his hands.

“I want you to look at me when you cum baby,” He moaned, his thrusts becoming erratic.

You nodded, and wrapped your arms around his torso as you were barrelling towards your high, as was he.

He moved his right hand from your face, and snaked it in between your bodies, his thumb coming to rub circles on your clit.

“C’mon, baby, let go all over me,” He moaned in your ear, and you were pushed over the edge.

You clamped down on. him, and he was pushed over as well.

Moments later, Chris collapsed against you, his head falling to your shoulder.

“I love you, too.” You whispered into his ear. “I realized I never told you.”

Chris chuckled. “We were a little busy, weren’t we?”

You giggled, before connecting your lips once again.

Oh, honey Just let me adore you Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

#chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans angst #chris evans #Chris Evans and dodger #chris evans x reader #smut #fluff #angst

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

we won the cosmic lottery

2.1k || ao3

When Mya convinces Carlos to try speed dating on what would otherwise be a lonely Valentine’s Day, he’s pretty sure it’s going to be a disaster. Until a man who manages to light up his world with one look slides into the seat before him, that is. Suddenly he’s feeling a lot more optimistic.

Or, Tarlos Alternate First Meeting: Speed Dating Edition

I wrote fluff again and I am probably more surprised than you are.

But I found this prompt from @madamewriterofwrongs in my inbox from several months ago and figured why not write a Valentine’s Day fic and try to stretch those fluff muscles again. Beta’d by @officereyes 💕

-----------

As bad ideas went, Carlos was pretty sure this was one.

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”

“What, you had other hot plans for Valentine’s Day?” Mya asked him, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him over her drink.

“No,” Carlos admitted, “but that doesn’t mean this was the correct alternative.”

“Why not? You’ll waste an hour of your life, talk to some people, come out with some good stories if nothing else. I think it sounds like the perfect alternative to spending the night home alone with Netflix.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he told her, tipping his glass to her before taking another drink.

“I have tried it Carlos, far too many times. You have too - that’s why we’re here.”

“To get a look at Austin’s future serial killers?”

Mya rolled her eyes at him before lightly smacking his arm with her clutch, “No, Officer Buzzkill. We’re here for a chance to maybe meet Mr. or Ms. Right.”

Carlos twisted on his stool to survey the crowd gathered in the reserved section of the bar. He typically didn’t like to make assumptions without at least trying to get to know someone first, but he could honestly say that none of the men in the crowd even gave him the slightest glimmer of hope for the evening. He should have stayed home.

He turned back to Mya with a dubious expression and she rolled her eyes again, “Lighten up Carlos, at the very least it can’t hurt.”

Carlos cast a glance back to one guy who was leering at him from the other side of the room and grimaced, “I’m not too sure about that.”

His partner opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by someone grabbing a microphone and calling the crowd to attention.

“Good evening lonely hearts!” the host said once the din of the crowd had died down. Carlos shot Mya a look but she ignored him.

“We’re going to get started here in a few minutes,” the host continued, “but before we start moving I just wanted to go over the specifics. Upon checking in you were given a bracelet. These are to help with the logistics. If you received a red bracelet you will be taking a seat at any of the open tables. If you got a pink one you will be rotating between the tables.”

Carlos glanced down at his wrist to see a red bracelet sitting there. Mya held up her own wrist to show another red one, “Looks like we both get to have people come to us tonight.”

Carlos chuckled at her before turning his attention back to the host, who was still explaining the rules.

“When the bell dings, you will rotate to the table to your right. You will have 3 minutes with each potential suitor and when the bell rings, you will move to the next one. Make sure that you write down their number and check yes or no before you part on the card provided - that’s how we will be pairing you! At the end of the evening we will be comparing all the lists and you will receive a list of the names and contact info of any suitors you mutually matched with to the email provided. After that, the ball is in your court! So make sure you make the most of these three minutes; it could be the time you find your soulmate!”

The room filled with polite clapping and Carlos turned again to Mya, “You can’t be serious.”

“Lighten up Reyes,” she said with a wink, “you wouldn’t want to scare your potential soulmate away.”

“Fine, I’ll ‘lighten up’. But if one of these creeps murders me to make a skin suit, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts so your threats have no effect on me.”

There were several more things he wanted to say to his partner, but he was interrupted by the sound of the host telling them all to head to their respective areas. As they went to stand up, Mya reached out to touch his arm, “it’s going to be fine Carlos, really. You’ve got this; try to have some fun for once.”

Her tone and expression were much more gentle than before and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax, “Thanks Mya,” he replied with a grateful smile. “Now go find Ms. Right.”

She matched his smile and with a wave, she was gone. Carlos took another steady breath and headed to the guy’s section of the room, taking a seat at one of the tables. He pulled the card out of his jacket pocket and picked up one of the pencils waiting on the table, twirling it through his fingers anxiously. And when the first contender of the night slid into the seat before him he forced on a warm smile and held out his hand in greeting. Mya was right, he had this.

--------

7 dates later he was less sure he had this.

They hadn’t all been creeps, per se (though numbers 2 and 6 definitely had been) but they also hadn’t done anything to elicit any kind of spark in Carlos. They had been nice enough and reasonably good looking, but Carlos had decided a long time ago that good enough wasn’t worth the effort. If he was going to try and make a go of something with someone, they had to be someone who made him feel something. It had to be worth the risk.

He was contemplating his abysmal luck when the next guy slid into the chair across from him. Carlos looked up and all coherent thoughts fled his head. This guy was... gorgeous was the only word Carlos could come up with that did him justice. Everything about him was perfect and Carlos couldn’t bring himself to look away.

He eventually noticed the extended hand in what he sincerely hoped was a normal amount of time and took it, still studying him as he blurted out the first thought that came to mind: “I didn’t see you here before.”

He definitely hadn’t been here when things were starting, Carlos would have noticed him in a crowd, he was absolutely sure about that. The other man smiled sheepishly, “yeah, I got here a bit late. I was trying to convince myself to actually come. My friends had to practically push me in the door.”

Carlos chuckled, “My friend had to pretty much drag me here with her. Are your friends here?”

“They’re at a bar down the street for ‘moral support’,” he responded with an eye roll, but a fond expression.

“That’s so helpful.”

“Isn’t it?”

They both laughed again before Carlos suddenly realized they had yet to even exchange names, “I’m Carlos, by the way.”

“TK, nice to meet you.”

“That’s an interesting name. Does it stand for something?”

TK grinned at him coyly, “It does, but that’s at least a level 4 backstory, and we’re barely at level one.”

Carlos grinned back, feeling the quip come easily despite the butterflies definitely fluttering in his stomach, “Well, we’ve got some time to work on that. Personally though I recommend we skip over levels 1 and 2, those are mundane at best.”

TK’s green eyes lit up as he laughed. The sound sent a shock through Carlos’s entire body and in that moment, Carlos decided he had been wrong. He owed Mya an apology: this had been an excellent idea after all.

-----

His three minutes with TK had not been nearly long enough. When the bell had dinged he had nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been so absorbed in their conversation he hadn't noticed the passage of time. It felt like they had been talking all night, but also as if they had barely begun to talk at all.

TK gave him an apologetic smile as he stood from his chair, “I guess that’s my cue. It was really nice talking to you though, Carlos.”

“Yeah, you too,” he responded. He hesitated for a moment as he studied the other man. In only three minutes he had felt more of a connection with TK than he had with people he had dated for weeks. Maybe it was that they were both first responders, maybe it was something else, but he wasn’t ready to let this go. So many things were mysteries, but Carlos knew one thing for sure: if he let TK walk away from him tonight, he might just end up regretting it for the rest of his life.

“Would you maybe like to catch up when we’re done here? Maybe get a drink, talk some more?”

TK paused mid-stride, raising an eyebrow, “You still have two more dates left, how do you know you won’t want to spend the evening with them instead?”

“Call it intuition.”

He could call it intuition or blind hope or desperation if he wanted, Carlos really didn’t care. He just knew in his gut that it was right, that TK was someone he needed to get to know more. TK was still considering him, and Carlos anxiously awaited his verdict. This was so far outside of his comfort zone and he was pretty sure that if TK turned him down he was going to head back to his condo tonight and not leave for at least two days, too buried in embarrassment and shame to face the outside world. But this felt worth the risk; he just hoped he hadn’t read these feelings wrong.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime passing in the moment of a breath, TK smiled. “I’d like that,” he said, “I guess bachelors 9 and 10 are out of luck for both of us then.”

“Try to let them down easy.”

TK laughed again, squeezing his shoulder as he walked away, “As long as you promise to do the same—getting turned down by you would be a tough pill to swallow, Carlos. Try to break their hearts gently.”

-------

Carlos was still feeling the euphoria of TK’s smile 10 minutes later when a figure slid into the seat next to him at the bar. He turned eagerly, ready to see TK’s eyes again and felt disappointment, followed by instant guilt, when it wasn’t TK but Mya occupying the seat next to him.

“Well that was a waste of time,” she declared as she slumped forward onto the bar, “you were right. I shouldn’t have dragged you here, I’m sorry. Wanna go get tacos at that truck you love to drown our sorrows?”

“Actually,” Carlos began, but their conversation was interrupted by the sound of someone calling his same from behind them. They turned in tandem and Carlos felt his heart beat just a little faster at the sight of TK, who was looking between him and Mya.

“Hey Carlos, I just wanted to see if you were ready for that drink yet. If you’re not we can...”

Mya interrupted before TK could finish his sentence, “I was just leaving, actually. I’m Mya, by the way—Carlos’s partner and friend.”

TK turned his gorgeous smile on her and held out a hand, “TK Strand, nice to meet you.”

“TK’s a firefighter,” Carlos told Mya, biting back a smile as she raised an eyebrow and TK nodded, “I’m with the 126.”

“Well, TK Strand with the 126, take good care of my partner here. He’s pretty special.”

“I’ve already gotten that feeling,” TK agreed, giving Carlos another grin that he felt straight through to his soul.

Mya smirked as she stood from her seat, looking between them as she pulled out her keys, “I’d say have a good rest of the night, but I think that’s already a given. I’ll see you on Monday Carlos, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“And that would be what, exactly?”

Mya shrugged as she started to walk away, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Text me when you get home!” he called after her.

“Yes mom!” she called back as she reached the door. Before she opened it to head out into the Austin night she turned one more time and shot him a smile and a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes fondly, but nodded. Then she was gone and he turned all of his attention to the man beside him. He was grinning too and Carlos was starting to get the feeling that he might never get used to the things that smile did to him.

TK slid into Mya’s abandoned seat and leaned closer to him, “So where do we start?”

Carlos smiled back and waved down the bartender to get drinks for them. He wasn’t sure where to begin, but he had a feeling wherever it was would be the beginning of something great. He turned and caught TK’s eyes again, savoring the warmth that emanated from them.

Tonight may have started out feeling like a mistake, but he was starting to think it may have actually been more like fate.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #my writing #userkimmy #tuserpaige #usermaximus #userac #userjilly #userbones #jazzyjess

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buildmeafairytale · 4 years

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Rhavor Part 2: NSFW

A part two to my drider story for @acreepqueen, 18+ to read (NSFW). Hope you guys like it!

Part 1

You and Rhavor’s romance had been going on well, with more stolen moments and heated kisses taking place between the two of you. You’ve kept your relationship a secret, and while you would love nothing more than to hold his hand out in the open, you have to be tactful considering your positions. Your father is an understanding king and grants you many freedoms, but you are unsure how he would take this.

You had done little more than share kisses and sweet touches, the two of you trying to take things slowly. You wanted your relationship to not be a secret before things got more serious between the two of you, and this being your first experience with a man also played a part. He had also eluded that there were a few drider courting customs that he wished to take part in with you, and you could not contain your excitement. The romance of it all took your breath away.

It was a training day for the guards, and usually on these days you and your sisters would busy yourselves inside, sticking together a bit while under watch from guards not in that rotation. It was a training day for Rhavor, though, and you had yet to see him train. You convinced your sisters to come watch the guards, Anna needing much less convincing than Priscilla, but they indulged you nonetheless.

The air is crisp as winter is approaching, but when you get down to the training yards you spy Rhavor without clothing. He is using a staff and training with an orc, and you can not take your eyes off of his back, the muscles rippling with power. Anna leans over and whispers “you’re drooling” into your ear. She is probably correct. You sit and watch, Rhavor waving at you when he sees you. He spars with a few other guards, and trains some of the newer ones. You look across the courtyard and see maids whispering, their faces red and giggling with their eyes trained on your guard. You are not one to get angry or jealous, but you’ve never had someone worth getting jealous over. Or possessive, maybe, since Rhavor was absolutely yours. Realistically, the maids were your friends and would never knowingly make eyes at a man who was yours, but it wasn’t like they knew any better.

You were sitting with your lips pursed and an annoyed look on your face when Rhavor came to greet you and your sisters. “Princesses, how nice to see you all,” he greeted with a bow, ever so polite. You all greeted him, your greeting more stiff than you planned. His brows furrow, and you felt bad at his confusion. He had done nothing wrong, after all. It wasn’t his fault he was so handsome.

“Yes, well, lovely seeing you Rhavor, we must be off now! Please see that Vivie gets back to her room alright!” Anna said, giggling while leading Priscilla away. You tried to speak up and go with them, but they were too quick.

“Well, Vivie, I suppose I will take you back to your room and then retire to my chambers for a bath, if that’s alright.” He asked, tilting his head at the peeved look on your face. You never knew that you harbored such a monster inside, all you wanted to do was stake your claim on your guard and keep all others away. He was beautiful, and he was yours, damn it. You just nodded at him, knowing he would ask you what was upsetting you once in private.

Once you get through the door, you give him no time to ask. You pull him down towards you, and meet his lips with your own. You are more frantic and needy than ever before, your hands running down the planes of his chest. He recovers from his shock quickly, pulling you towards him and invading your mouth with his tongue. You moan loudly, glad no one else can hear you in the tower. You part with his mouth, only to move on to kissing down his cheek, his jaw, and his neck, where you proceed to give most attention to. You suck and nip at the skin, excitement running through your veins as he lets out a breathy noise that sounds very much like your name.

His lower set of hands come up to hold your backside, pulling you up and against him. You wrap your legs around his long waist, feeling positively tiny in his embrace. This only spurs you on, giving you more access to the expanse of skin at your disposal. Something primal has overtaken you, and you want to leave your marks on him, let everyone know he is taken. You pull back a bit to observe your marks, deep purple and running down his neck and shoulder, and a twinge of guilt comes with the massive satisfaction of seeing them. You go slower now, the urgency alleviated by the physical proof of your affection. You kiss and lick the discolored skin, gently now.

One of Rhavors hands that is buried in your hair brings your mouth back to his, where he nips at your lip before sucking away the sting. All of the sudden there is a knock at your door, and the both of you are forced away from one another. You quickly adjust yourself and throw a blanket at Rhavor for him to cover the numerous love bites left on him.

“Yes?” you call out in a cracking voice, hoping no one is going to barge in.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Princess Vivian, however your father has requested that you and your sisters, as well as your personal guards, accompany your father to an early tea in the garden.” A voice calls, one of the older butlers. You thank him, and are grateful he only had a message and did not actually come in. You look at Rhavor and start to giggle at his disheveled state; anyone would have immediately known what you were up to, if not from the hickeys but from the bulge in his abdomen he is trying to hide. He lets out a breathy laugh and comes towards you.

“I’m unsure what has come over you, my love, but I am not complaining,” he leans in to brush his smiling lips against your own. “I will be back as soon as I am... more decent, to escort you to your father.” One more kiss and he scuttles away, and you look in the mirror to see the damage.

Your lips are swollen and slightly bruised, your cheeks are red and your hair is a mess, and you feel a bit floaty as well. You quickly ran a brush through your hair and put on some lipstick, hoping that would look somewhat presentable. Rhavor knocked on your door again, and you two started for the gardens. He was clad in his armor, which luckily covered the majority of the marks you left. He held out an elbow for you, and you graciously slipped your arm into the nook of it. He smiled at you, still tilting his head as if to figure you out.

“What is the matter, lovely? You seem a bit wrapped up in thought.” He asks, and you look up at him.

“Are you...angry? That I left all those marks, I mean?” You whisper to him. He grins back at you, a teasing smile you have grown so fond of.

“Darling, I will proudly wear any mark you decide to bestow upon me. Any reminder of your affections is welcome.” He kisses your other hand, happy to be able to fluster you as he does.

“I just,” you cut yourself off, not wanting to seem jealous, but he asks you to continue. “All the maids were looking at you!” you blurt out quickly, nervous but not wanting to hide your feelings. “They were all looking at you, during training, and no one knows that we’re-whatever we are.” He looked at you a bit stunned, but his grin soon came back, wider and more devious than before. He looks around, making sure the two of you are alone. You were outside of the castle, not quite to the gardens, when he crowds you against a stone wall of the castle, looming over you.

“Oh, is my princess a bit possessive? I rather like that, Vivie,” he nuzzles at your neck, and your breath catches. “Nothing wrong with marking your territory princess. I would only hope you let me return the favor sometime, darling.” He places a gentle kiss behind your ear, and a squeak manages to escape you. He pulls away, composing himself and holding out his arm as if nothing ever took place. Your head is spinning and you hold onto him, not expecting such an enthusiastic response. You cannot help but think of him returning the favor. Thoughts of Rhavor, his dangerous looking mouthparts and teeth around your neck, him biting and sucking at your skin that would bloom so brightly under his ministrations. What would he be like, jealous of another? Would he react like you, staking his claim and seeing to it that you knew you were his? Your thighs clench together at this thought, and you feel a quaking in your lower abdomen.

You lose these thoughts for now, seeing your family and the guards waiting for your arrival. You are seated, and the captain of the guard stands by your father. He starts to speak and is informing you all about rumors of a plot against your father, involving you all. Your guards were originally appointed due to threats of royal kidnappings, and it seems that this was becoming more and more of a threat. They did not want to scare you, but were only concerned for your safety. More guards were to be stationed around the castle, and you tried to take it more seriously. It was hard, though. You had always known your father to be invincible, and the castle walls always felt so safe. Not only did that assuage your fears, but you knew anyone who wanted to get to you would first have to get through your drider, which would be no easy feat. You listened attentively anyway, and willed this to go on faster. The guards asked questions, and looked at castle blueprints while your father assured you all he would do everything in his power to keep you safe.

The meeting goes by slowly and Rhavor is solely focused on the task at hand. After the meeting, you all eat dinner there as well, which is less intense than the prior proceedings. Rhavor is still discussing new precautions with the guards, and you’re afraid you’re going to end up locked away in your tower at this rate.

It is decided that a second guard will be placed outside of your chambers at night, as well as a curfew instilled until the threat passes. You weren’t upset, considered you went to bed early most nights anyway. Your sisters were not as easy going about this but your father had assured them things should be back to normal soon enough.

Rhavor escorts you back to your room, and finally has the bath he has needed since training. When he comes back to your room, you are hoping for a continuation of the earlier events, but he seems genuinely worried about the rumored threat. You settle for reading a romance curled up in bed while he looks over castle blueprints some more at your table. The few times you tried to get his attention, you were met with a smirk. “Tease” you call him, muttering under your breath.

“Say something darling?” He asks, and you shake your head, giggling at him.

You fall asleep with him like that, his presence soothing you.

Days pass and precautions are taken, but not nearly enough.

You shoot up from your bed as you hear a loud noise outside your door. You hear a yell, and you quickly realize there is no other way out of your tower without going towards the yell. You are still half asleep, but your heart is racing and the adrenaline is taking hold. You take a deep breath and scream as loud as you can. Rhavor will come running if he hears you, you hope. At the sound of your scream, though, three men break down your door.

“Shut up!” one yells, lunging for you. You are not deterred, and you keep screaming, trying to run out of his grasp. He misses, but one of the others does not, grabbing you and pointing a knife at your throat.

“If you’re trying to call you spider, he’s barricaded in his room. We aren’t stupid, little bitch, now stop screaming before I cut out your tongue.” He hisses this at you, spit flying in your face. You think you’re going to vomit, and now that you’ve quieted you hear it. Rhavor, downstairs, is barreling against his door. The man with the knife grins at you, his teeth yellow and rotting. “Don’t get your hopes up, he ain’t gettin out.” He twirls the tip of the knife along your collarbones, and you hear glass breaking downstairs.

“Sounds like her little guard is getting angry.” One of the other men comment in a sing-song voice, laughing at your obvious state of distress.

“How about we make him even angrier?” he asks, dipping the knife towards your cleavage. A scared noise comes out of you, and at that moment your tower window is thrown open. You can feel that it's Rhavor, and if you hadn’t the stiffening from the man in front of you would have been answer enough. You knee him and wrench away, running for Rhavor’s form.

In one fluid motion, he places you so that you are sitting on his thorax. He charges towards the men, throwing one into the wall, knocking him out cold. The next takes a hit from the butt of his scythe, crumpling to the ground. He has saved the one with the knife for last, and you don't want to watch what comes next. You bury your face in between his shoulder blades, and you hear Rhavor swing his scythe through the air. You gasp, but do not look. You hear footsteps going up the stairs, the sounds of more of the men coming for you.

“Hold on Vivian, we are going out the window.” He gives you no chance to respond, only climbs out of the tower window and descends, making a point to stay away from the window to his room as well, where you suspect the barricade has been removed and men will soon be entering. You have never been scared of heights, but this is a scenario that surpasses just a fear of heights. You are holding onto your guards back as he is free climbing a tower. You hear a whimpering noise, and it takes you much too long to realize that it’s coming from you. “Shhh my love, I would never let you fall, that is a promise. We are almost down, I am going to jump now and we are headed to the barracks to rouse the rest of the guard.”

“Jump?” you whimper, but before he can respond there is air rushing past you, and you feel him land, taking the impact of the fall but seeming fine. He takes off in a sprint, towards the barracks you presume, your face still hidden in his back. He rips the doors open, and is throwing out orders and briefing guards before you even process where you are. Everyone is moving quickly, and you realize you have now opened your eyes. Several orcs are already dressed in their armor, and running to the castle. You hope that they are finding your sisters, surely you would be the least important target to these people. You feel Rhavor’s hands on yours, before he is peeling you off of him and setting you on a bed on the barracks, wrapping you in one of the sheets there.

“Oh, I’m still in my nightdress,” you mumble, not really looking at anything in particular. Rhavor is looking at you and you see his mouth moving, but all you hear is blood rushing in your ears. You reach up and go to smooth the crease in his brow, humming to yourself. He is crouching before you, and you are unsure how long this goes on. There are other guards milling about, some being sent to other barracks and others checking for more intruders and reporting back.

You start to feel less like you’re underwater, and Rhavor’s words start to make more sense. It’s mostly nonsense, but comforting nonsense. “You are such a brave little princess, holding onto me so tightly. So glad you have such strong lungs darling, so glad you yelled for me. I will always protect you, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there faster. I should have killed him for laying his hands on you, I will do everything in my power to make sure that never happens again,” He goes on and on, and you feel your heart rate slow down. You have no idea how long you have been here, but suddenly your father, sister, and their personal guards file into the barracks, your father taking you in his arms. This is when the dam breaks and tears start to fall. He shushes you and rocks you back and forth, while your sisters hug you as well. Your father releases you, and you sit with your sisters. You hear him thank Rhavor for keeping you safe, and inform him that the men are being held in the dungeon, along with the several others that were coming into your room when you fled. They will be questioned and everyone involved will be taken in, that you have faith in.

Your sisters were not targeted, which you are glad to hear. You are unsure why they picked you, but your father told you they thought you would be less guarded due to being the youngest. Everyone is awake now, and unlikely to go back to sleep, so you all head back to the castle. Rhavor is still by your side, and if anyone notices you holding onto his hand, they don’t say anything. The maids fuss over you, making you your favorite foods and trying to comfort you while some of the butlers are cleaning your bedroom, erasing all traces of what happened. People also start to clear Rhavor’s room, but it is in much worse condition.

“Although some may think it indecent, there is plenty of room for another cot in Vivian’s room. After the events that took place tonight, I think it best for you to stay there with her, at least until your quarters are fixed.” Your father tells Rhavor, and he agrees, still frustrated with himself he was not there to protect you. You agree with your father, it is a good idea. You also know that once you are a bit recovered from the night's events, you will be enthused about sharing a room for very different reasons.

The hours go on and night makes way for day. You are exhausted, and your sisters pull you into Priscilla's room, where they tuck you in and sleep next to you. Four guards are stationed outside the door, and even though it is almost midday, you finally manage to get some sleep.

The days recovering from the attack, you and Rhavor cling to one another. He sleeps in your bed, the two of you rumpling up the extra cot every night to avoid suspicion. You feel so sneaky, but having him in your bed holding you is worth it. Both of you are still flustered, him more overprotective and shadow like than ever before. He never outright doesn’t let you do something, but he is very good at directing your attention to an activity he finds to be safer. If you want to walk the grounds or spend the day in the garden, he will often find a way to get you to stay in the library or walk with you inside of the castle instead, or setting up a picnic on the roof. It’s endearing and you know he is worried, but you’re starting to get a bit stir crazy. It comes to a head when you start getting a bit snippy at him. You don’t try to be, really, but you need space being nice about it hasn’t been working. After being a bit of a brat all morning, you pull Rhavor aside in the library.

You hold his hand and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I know this is stressful for you, but I’m safe! And I’m going to go crazy stuck inside all day, so I’m going to the gardens, and you should take some time for yourself too. I’ll have another guard stick close if that makes you feel better, love, and I will see you before dinner.” You leave no room for an argument, and while he is sputtering a bit, you kiss him on the cheek and walk off. You are hoping he won’t be too peeved later, but odds are he will follow you at a distance anyway.

The time alone was nice and much needed, but after a few hours you were wishing for Rhavor’s presence once again. The ideal situation would be him enjoying the outdoors with you, but he was busy trying and failing to remain unseen by you while doing rounds in the garden and peeking at you intermittently. You sighed and closed your book, wondering if starting an impromptu game of hide and seek would be too cruel when your love was already so wound up. You were feeling playful, though, and figured it wouldn’t hurt too much. You simply moved to be behind one of the pillars in the gazebo, and waited, stifling your giggles. It didn’t take long before he came barreling in, his back to you. You snuck up behind him, yelled out “gotcha” and jumped on his back. He jumped and turned to bare his teeth at you.

“Not funny Vivian,” he growls out, moving to hold you in front of him. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, pouting up at him.

“I thought it was funny, plus, you’re making the gardeners anxious with all of your pacing.” He kept up his grumbling, but finally decided to sit with you. By the time you were ready to go inside, the both of you were in a much better mood. You retire to your chambers, and Rhavor seems to grow anxious once again.

“I have something for you, Vivie,” Rhavor says, and he proceeds to hand you a blanket made out of his silk. It is unlike the one he used to teach you, in that it is much larger, thicker, and the design seems much more complex. It is beautiful and soft, and you are sure he spent a lot of time on it. You take it from him, your face split into a wide smile.

“This is so beautiful, thank you! No one has ever given me something so nice before.” you admit, pulling him down for a kiss. He kisses you back, so sweetly, and pulls away.

“It is part of courting, for driders. It symbolizes our desire and ability to keep you warm and provide for you. I’ve been wanting to make you one ever since I taught you how to knit all those months ago.” He admits, a hand coming up to run through his hair. The sweet intent behind the gift does not go unnoticed, and it makes you love it all the more.

“I have something for you too!” you say, full of excitement. You spread the blanket out on your bed, before going into a trunk to pull out the one you knitted for him. “I was going to wait until the Giving Days, but now seems like a much better time for this.” You hold out the deep purple blanket that reminds you so much of the color his cheeks turn on the rare occasions he is shy, and his reaction is very enthused. He lets out a gasp, and takes the blanket from your hand. He takes his time admiring it, and tells you how much you’ve improved.

“My princess, come here,” he beacons, and pulls you close. He bends down, laying kisses all over your face, wrapping his arms around you when you giggle and twist away. His lips then meet yours, and what started out as a chaste kiss turns into something carnal rather quickly. You feel his shirt slip to the side, his marks from you still there, and you feel hungry for him. You press yourself to him, and let the noises building in your chest escape you, him eagerly swallowing them. You aren’t sure how to convey how much you need him, but you try, pulling him towards your bed. He lays you down on the blanket he made for you, and pulls back a bit. His eyes run over you on the bed, and he lets out a deep noise that makes your thighs clench together.

“It looks as though you are in my web Vivie, it makes such a pretty picture,” he says while one hand is caressing your face and one of the lower ones is running up your calf. You do not have enough wit left to respond to this, you only open your thighs and arch up, hoping he continues to touch you. “Say the word and I will stop, princess, all you have to do is ask.” he tells you.

Your hands go to his arms, and you plead with him to continue. “Don’t stop, Rhavor. I want you, all of you.” The teasing look he often wears melts away, and he plasters himself against you once again.

“You honor me, my love,” he whispers into your ear, his mouthparts and fangs brushing against your cheek. You pull at his shirt, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers over his skin. He quickly obliges you, and throws it off and away. Rhavor pulls you towards the edge of the bed, and his lower two hands get higher and higher on your thighs while another is moving from your shoulder to your breast, a light brush that has you keening. His hands that are under your dress move and grab your ass, bringing the apex of your thighs to meet the growing bulge in his abdomen. You cant up your hips, gasping when you find the friction you so desperately seek.

“Rhavor, please, more,” you plead with him, not knowing what you want but knowing you need it like you need air.

“Shh, I’ll take care of you,” He says, not so frantic anymore. He leans down to softly kiss you, and helps you take off your dress. Once it is off, you feel like you can breath again, and Rhavor’s many eyes are trained on the rise and fall of your chest. He leans down, swirling his tongue around your nipple, and you tilt your hips up to grind against him once again, causing the both of you to let out a gasp. A large hand of his comes between your legs, rubbing your wetness through your smallclothes. You’ve never felt something so pleasurable, and you mewl and rub against his hand as if you were a cat. You feel in the back of your mind you should be embarrassed by your actions, but all you feel is pleasure.

You kiss and lick at the skin of his chest, nipping across a nipple, an action that causes him to make a teasing growl back at you. He pushes aside the cloth covering your core, and explores you with one of his deft fingers. He pumps it into your core, coaxing more moans from you. A thumb comes up to trace your lips, and you take it into your mouth, flicking your tongue on the end. Your eyes are wide as you stare into his, this eye contact only broken when he adds another thick finger to your core, stretching you for him. His hand leaves your mouth as you reach down towards his bulge and trace your fingers around it, delighting in the way he shivers at this touch. You feel him grow and his phallus unfolds from within. It is a deep and vibrant purple with black veins spider webbing across it. You trace it with your fingertips, your hand looking so small in comparison. His hips jerk when you get near the end, and you wrap your fingers around it. You move your hand up and down over the length, enjoying the feel of it and delighting in the way Rhavor is following the movements. He has not stopped pumping his fingers into you, and when he curls the long, angled digits your legs snap tight around him. You arch up and bring his length to your wetness, looking at him as you do. He pulls his fingers out of you, hushing you with a kiss at the sound you make once you’re empty.

“Do you want me to continue, princess?” he asks you, and you nod eagerly, adding on a strangled out “Yes” for good measure.

At this he takes himself in hand, coating himself in your wetness. You grip onto his shoulders as he breaches you, mouth falling open at the feeling of being so full. He goes slow, and the stretch is significant. He does not move yet, only bends down to kiss you, whispering praises about how good you feel and how lucky he is to have you. It feels like his hands are everywhere, the four of them caressing and rubbing at your skin. A strangled noise escapes you as you try to move your hips, and fireworks are taking off behind your eyelids at the feel of him. You feel as if you are floating away, but his touch grounds you. A hand is on the side of your face and Rhavor turns you to look at him. He pulls back and then thrusts forward, a shaky breath leaving him and a pleasured “oh” is punched out of your lungs. He keeps the pace slow and deep, neither of you wanting any more of him to leave your body than necessary. A set of hands were on your breasts, rolling and tugging on your nipples as another were propping your thighs open for him. You shared a kiss that was filthy, biting and full of tongue, and as Rhavors abdomen brushes above your entrance your entire body goes rigid. A deep moan escapes you as you screw your eyes shut, and it feels as though lightning is running through your entire body. You gasp for air and try to keep moving with Rhavor. He holds you tight, dragging out your pleasure before his hips stutter and he buries himself within your heat, your name on his tongue as you ripple around him.

You feel tingly everywhere, and your blissed out expression is mirrored by Rhavor. He shifts his weight to the side, and keeps his face buried in your neck. He kisses you as you come down, wrapping you in his blanket. You really do look as though you are caught in his web, and you have never been happier. You would formally announce your relationship in the morning.

#monster #monsterlover #monsterboyfriend #monster lemon #lemon #drider #drider boyfriend #monster x reader #female reader x male monster

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professorsnape394 · 3 years

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The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Four: The Three Broomsticks

A/N: This is the fourth part to my fanficiton ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 1733

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The following days transpired just as the day before had done; a lot of potion brewing and a little conversation. However, more notably Severus Snape was actually participating in the conversation for once. Aria could not yet say she had seen a pleasant side to the man, however he was acceptable to converse with at the very least. By the end of the third day he no longer pretended to busy himself with textbooks and he actually elected to help with the potion brewing for once. Being able to talk to the Professor and ask him any questions helped her a great deal in learning the correct procedures. She felt herself being more at ease around him, and soon enough they had developed their own way of working together, that she found quite enjoyable. Even Severus had become accustomed to the woman's presence in his classroom as she pranced around the cauldrons, laughing every now and then at his sarcastic comments he hadn't entirely meant to be humorous.

Aria had been lost in thought as she stirred the final potion to completion. "I was thinking." She said cautiously. "It's pretty hard finding things to occupy myself at nights, there isn't much to do here, except aimlessly wandering the halls. How do you feel about maybe taking a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend, have some dinner, maybe drinks? It would make a change from the elves cooking, although I admit they'd be pretty hard to beat."

"I appreciate the offer Miss Dumbledore. However you know how I feel about spending time with Mr. Hagrid, I doubt a change of setting would convince me, especially with the addition of alcohol." Severus spoke, his tone softer than it usually would at such a request.

"Hagrid wouldn't be there." She hastened to add. "He mentioned he has business out with the castle grounds. I just figured since the two of us would be here anyway, it wouldn't make any sense for us to sit alone."

"You may have forgotten, Miss Dumbledore, but I like being alone. I eat alone every night, and I do not wish to simply be your back up plan, now Hagrid has left you to do the same."

"I don't mean for you to be a back up plan Sev- Professor Snape. I just think it might do us both some good. After all haven't we been getting along better these past few days." Aria wanted to get to know the man more, she felt they had got off on the wrong foot and the way to fix this was spending more time together, and hopefully they would even become friends at the end of it all.

"You haven't been as disagreeable as I expected you would be, I will admit. This does not change my previous opinion." He stated.

"At least consider it." She pleaded.

With a sigh Snape flipped another page. "I'll consider it." He agreed, continuing reading his book, no longer interested in conversing with the young witch.

The next few days dragged in more than ever. Aria enjoyed keeping herself busy and was not used to having this much free time. The only thing keeping her sane was her passions for drawing and nature. She chose to combine the two and spend her days outside, sketching the beautiful landscape she found herself in. She preferred to opt for portraits, capturing the essence of humanity in her sketches, but trees were fine too. She shrugged.

Sunday morning eventually came around and Aria chose to tackle something she had been putting off ever since her arrival at Hogwarts. A small pile of letters had accumulated on her bedside table, ignoring each one as they came in. She immediately recognised the scrawled writing on the envelope and could not face opening them. Every second day she received a letter and it broke her heart knowing what lay within. Reading each one carefully, she knew she could not face writing the response the sender desperately awaited. Instead she scribbled a small, generic reply, making sure to include that she would be too busy to write often due to her crazy schedule. This of course was a lie as she had virtually nothing planned for the next couple of weeks until term begun. Aria did not want to face even reading any more letters as long as she remained at Hogwarts, and so she swore to herself she wouldn't no matter how hard she knew it would be.

A firm knock echoed through her quarters just as Aria sent her letter off with beautiful brunette barn owl. "Come in." She called curious as too who would be calling on her. Shocked to see Professor Snape striding into her private chambers, Aria couldn't help but question his presence there.

"I've had time to think about your offer." He stated blankly, visibly out of his comfort zone.

"And?" Aria pressed.

"And I suppose there would be no harm in joining you for one meal. After all, as you say, we both will be here alone, we may as well keep each other company."

"Fantastic!" His colleague gleamed, jumping up from her position on her couch. "Just give me some time to get ready and I'll meet you there? Say six oclock at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Six is fine with me. Don't be late." He warned, leaving the room just as quickly as he came.

Aria entered the Three Broomsticks at five forty-five, ensuring Snape had no reason to reprimand her once again for her tardiness. It stunned her to find the sallow skinned man already sitting at a booth, firewhiskey in hand, patiently waiting on her arrival. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched him tap out a rhythm on the side of his glass as he took yet another sip. She wondered if it was out of impatience or nervousness, either way she thought it slightly endearing to see.

Hearing the click of a familiar set of heels quickly approaching him, Severus Snape looked up from his glass, almost needing to hold back the urge to smile, but managed to keep his composure. He rose to his feet, holding out a hand to greet the fellow Professor, instantly cursing himself for such a foolish action. "Sit." He commanded, motioning to the seat across from his own. "I'll get you a drink."

"Oh no, there's really no need Professor." Aria insisted, shaking her head, causing her beach-like waves to brush over her exposed shoulders. "I'm afraid alcohol doesn't agree with me at the best of times." She admitted.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Miss Dumbledore, but as I recall it was you who suggested a meal and drinks. Or did I mishear you." Snape asked, feeling almost foolish, having already down two glasses of Firewhiskey.

"I did say that didn't I." The young Miss Dumbledore blushed. "I apologise, sometimes I just cannot stop myself when I speak, I often forget the consequences of drinking, which as it happens is the ultimate consequence of drinking." She chuckled.

The older man shot her a small look of disdain, not at all as amused as she had expected him to be. He let out a small grunt of dissatisfaction, and proceed to down the dregs of his drink.

It took a few more awkward moments of silence and Severus being slightly more irritable that Aria had wished for before the two finally settled in to a rhythm of conversation. Soon enough it came time to eat and Aria took it upon herself to call over the waitress. As he ordered Aria watched as Severus made no effort to look up at the woman serving him. It crossed her mind that maybe this was a deliberate attempt at ignoring her voluptuous breast and curvature of her hips. However, on the other hand she considered that maybe he truly was not interested as she thought back to their conversation a few days before.

"She's stunning." Aria couldn't help but observe. "You should go for it, chat her up, she might be into the dark, brooding, intellectual type."

"As I told you before, Miss Dumbledore, dating it not top priority for me. If you find her so attractive why don't you, as you say, 'chat her up'." Snape replied sarcastically, not expecting the woman to take him seriously.

"I might just." She said, finding her eyes following the waitress back to the kitchen for a moment or two. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous as the witch watched the woman walk away from their table, though he was not sure why.

"So tell me Professor Snape." The young Professor began. "What are the other Professor's at Hogwarts like? Who am I took look out for? Who's my competition." She grinned, wriggling her eyebrows menacingly.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean." He hummed in response.

"You know." She shrugged. "Who are you close with? Will I have to fight them for custody of you." She laughed, although the Professors expression did not change. "What I'm trying to say Severus is, I'm new here, besides yourself and Hagrid I know no one. I'd like to consider us friends, though you may have a different opinion. I was simply trying to express my nervousness at being the new girl. I was hoping you'd be able to help me settle in, introduce me to your other friends and colleagues that is." She sighed.

"You do not seem to understand my disposition, Miss Dumbledore, that which I feel I have made abundantly clear. I am not one to socialise. I am not one to make friends. I am here to teach and teach alone. I do what your grandfather asks of me and that is the extent of my relationship with the staff. They understand how I am, and respect that. I do not bother them and in return they do not bother me. You have been the first to struggle with this concept, Professor." He struggled to grant her the title.

"I didn't realise." Aria stuttered slightly, not understanding how she had not caught on. "I had simply thought you had a vendetta against me, due to my position here at Hogwarts. I didn't realise you shut yourself off from everyone. I apologise for any inconvenience I have caused you." The tone of her voice softening, becoming almost a whisper-like volume. She was embarrassed she had forced him out of his habits and brought him to the Three Broomsticks to clear the air. She realised now it had been a pointless act. This man had been stuck in his ways for over a decade and she would not change that a fortnight into knowing him.

"I am here, aren't I." Severus stated, trying not sound as harsh as he previously had. "Had I truly despised you I would not be wasting my time here with you. I have come to the realisation that if we are to work in such a close proximity to each other, it would be best if we maintained at least some level of civility with one another."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Professor." She replied shyly, remaining silent. Immediately Severus regretted opening his mouth. He didn't entirely hate her company and in fact he had found himself starting to enjoy the evening. It took him a minute or two to gain the confidence to speak the words aloud, but he figured the pay off was worth the sacrifice of a small amount of pride.

"Will you stop fretting woman." He demanded. "I was just beginning to find your constant rambling tolerable. If I wished to spend the evening in silence, I wouldn't have made the effort to accept your invitation to come here tonight. You have managed to entice me thus far, do not spoil what may be your one chance at a friendship with me."

"A friendship?" This piqued her interest.

"You know what I mean. A working relationship. A tolerance. A chance for me to accept your position as my apprentice." Snape corrected himself, fumbling over his words.

"Mmmm." She smirked, taking a small sip of butterbeer. "I'll just pretend a friendship is off the cards for us then, Professor. Although I don't recall you mentioning trips to Hogsmeade as an exception to your reclusive personality." She raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Despite his annoyance at her persuasive abilities, and daring comments, he was glad he had convinced her back to her previously inquisitive self.

Both choosing to ignore any reservations they might have about their 'non-friendship' the two spoke for hours with ease. With each empty glass of fire whiskey Severus Snape found himself relaxing more into the conversation, his reputation becoming a distant memory. It was the first he had allowed himself to truly relax in possibly the whole of his life.

It seemed in one evening Severus had gotten to know all there was to know about Aria's life, although strangely she mentioned nothing regarding her family and Snape chose not to pursue the subject. He loved listening to her talk, she was a rambler, rarely needing any interjection from him except the odd mumble here and there and that's the way he liked it. He was a listener, he loved taking in new information no matter the subject. Most importantly it meant he did not have to share anything about himself, unless the woman specifically asked, and even in those rare occasions, she knew better than to pressure him when he chose not to provide an answer.

Aria told him of the schooling she received in Ilvermorny, her school in America. She told him of her job working in a local alchemists after she left school. She confided in him of her dream to become a professor, or an auror even, really she was just desperate to make a difference in someone's life and her dream would not succeed by spending the rest of her days working in a dingy old shop. "And that's why your grandfather brought you here?" He questioned, the topic piquing his interest. "You told him of your dream to teach?" "I guess you could say that." She agreed, not wanting to raise any more questions than necessary. "He didn't bring me from America though, if that's what your meaning. I was already here. My mother sent me to school in America to protect me, with all that Wizarding War carry on and what with me being a Dumbledore, she didn't want to put me in any more danger than I already was. She remained here with my father however and I visited on the holidays." Snape raised a single brow at the mention of her mother and father but changed the subject completely, seeing the woman being to shy away slightly.

"It's getting late." Severus observed. "I should walk you back to the castle before it gets too dark."

"That would be nice" Aria smiled, rising from her seat.

The couple made their way back to the beautiful lit up castle as the sky turned a deep shade of blue above them. They continued to speak all the way down to the dungeons, this time Severus participating just as much as Aria. The Potions Master escorted his apprentice to the door of her quarters, the two of them swaying awkwardly not knowing where to go from here.

"You can come in for a drink... if you'd like." Aria hesitated to ask. "Although I'm not sure I have anything alcoholic, so tea might need to suffice."

"I appreciate the invitation, but it's been a long day for me, I'm afraid I must retire for the night." Now they were back in the familiar castle grounds Severus felt as though he had suddenly returned to his body, and the events of the night lingered at the forefront of his mind, a deep feeling of regret developing in his stomach.

"Very well." Aria agreed, feeling slightly uncomfortable herself. "Good night, Professor Snape."

"Good night, Miss Dumbledore." He spoke softly, rocking anxiously the balls of his feet, waiting for the woman to disappear into her quarters. With a simple nod and one final smile from Aria, she vanished from his sight. The sound of the door closing echoed through the halls, ringing in Severus' ears, and suddenly he felt more alone than he ever had before.

Aria stood with her back to the door, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. As much as she enjoyed the evening with her mentor, the intense awkwardness that occurred at her door, got her thinking about the man on the other side. Her intention was to get to know the man better, and though he did not confide in her much, she felt she had achieved that, maybe more than anyone ever had.

Why had he allowed her to get close to him when he claimed to distance himself from the world?

This thought circled her brain for the rest of the night.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #severus x oc #severus snape one shot #Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction #severus x reader #severus x y/n #alan rickman #potions master #potions masters apprentice #dumbledore #dumbledores granddaughter #severus snape x reader #severus snape fluff #severus snape smut

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engie-ivy · 4 years

Text

I wrote this fic for the Wolfstar Comfort Mini-Fest, organized by @swottypotter, because I thought it was such a lovely idea😊

(also on AO3 as part of a series of one-shot crush confessions)

19/09: an anniversary

Summary:

Getting older can be a fearful experience, but when you're a werewolf, it's just a tad worse. There's only so many excruciating transformations one's body can undergo before it can take no more. For Remus, the idea of celebrating the day of being another year closer to that inevitable moment is inconceivable. However, his friends teach him that instead of simply having lived another year, his life contains many other anniversaries he could be celebrating: having been part of a close group of friends for another year, having had company during the full moon for another year, and... having a certain friend be in love with him for another year?

Moments in time

Remus Lupin does not celebrate his birthday. Doesn’t like it. Really doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s not a case of modesty, like ‘he just doesn’t want to be the center of attention’, or even a case of bad experiences, like ‘if we can just show him how fun it can be’. No, he has made it clear to the other three Marauders that it’s no use even trying. If they throw him a birthday party, he won’t attend. If they buy him birthday gifts, he won’t accept.

It’s not that he hates birthdays as a principle. No, he’d loved it when they snuck into the kitchens and stuffed themselves with sweets for Peter’s birthday, he’d loved it when they stayed up all night and drank Butterbeer and even a bottle of Firewhiskey that they managed to smuggle in for James’s birthday, and he loved it when they had a sleep-over in the Shrieking Shack for Sirius’s birthday. It’s really his own birthday that he doesn’t like.

You see, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and while he’s now more comfortable with that fact than he’s ever been, with being able to attend school, having people in his life that love and accept him even with knowing the truth, and having friends who became Animagii so he doesn’t have to be alone during the full moon anymore, there are just some things that come with his condition that cannot be changed. The illness on the days preceding and following the full moon, the excruciating pain that the transformations bring, and, probably worst of all, the fact that werewolves age prematurely.

Werewolves do not have a high life expectancy. There’s only so much strain one’s body can endure before it can’t take no more. Remus often reads in textbooks that werewolves don’t get old, but that’s wrong phrasing: werewolves do get old, they just get old really fast. While his friends will still be vital and brimming with energy, Remus’s bones will become fragile and his muscles stiff with constant aching due to the tearing apart and snapping back together necessary for the monthly transformations, his recovery after each full moon will become slower until he’ll never fully recover anymore, he’ll start having trouble walking and eventually moving altogether, his hair will become grey and his skin will become worn and littered with scars, making him look old beyond his years.

It’s bad enough that each year there’s a day to remind him that he’s another year closer to that inescapable faith, so why in Merlin’s name would he want to actually celebrate that day?

Remus never fully explained, so he’s not sure to what extent the other Marauders really understand what getting older means to him, but they can tell that it holds a lot of pain for Remus, and that it’s not something they can fix for him, so they respect his wishes. On the day itself they try their hardest not to give a single indication they’re aware it’s Remus’s birthday. The only way Remus can tell that they do know, is by how they go out of their way to make sure no one else dares to mention his birthday in his vicinity. This may seem weird or even mean to outsiders, but to Remus, it’s the best possible thing they could do.

That’s part of the reason why Remus is utterly confused when he enters their dorm on September 4th and finds Sirius, James and Peter sitting on pillows on the floor surrounded by drinks and candy, and a pile of gifts in their midst.

“Surprise!” They yell in unison the moment Remus opens the door.

Another reason for Remus’s confusion is that it’s nowhere near his birthday.

“What’s this?” He asks carefully.

Sirius presses a card in his hand. The front of the card shows a doodle of four boys sitting at the Gryffindor table. A small boy with peaky hair, a boy whose hair is pointing in all directions, a dark-haired boy with a goofy grin, and a curly-haired boy with large eyes, all wearing red-and-gold colours.

The doodle is clearly drawn by Sirius. Sirius is actually a very talented artist and his drawings are great, though he only ever shows his doodles to his friends. Remus loves the cute and funny doodles, but he wishes Sirius would also show them his more serious drawings sometimes. Remus has only ever caught a glimpse of his work on moments Sirius didn’t notice Remus’s presence in time while drawing, but what he saw was amazing.

Remus opens the card and reads the message on inside.

Hi Moony!

Happy 6-year anniversary of the day we officially became friends with you!

We love you!

Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs

Remus looks up from the card to see Sirius staring at him with the same goofy grin as the doodled boy on the card, but there’s also an unfamiliar expression in his eyes, and he’s toying with a strand of his hair.

Remus realises that he’s nervous. Afraid that Remus will see it as a trick to give him a kind-of-birthday party anyway, and become upset. And of course it is an attempt to make up for lost birthday celebrations, Remus knows that, but it’s a good attempt. It’s not just celebrating a certain amount of years from his life have gone by, it’s celebrating the years they’ve been friends. Making actual friends who love him and who he loves, and keeping them for all that time, that’s something Remus did with his life, something he accomplished, something no one can ever take away from him. It somehow makes the eventual length of his life matter less. It’s celebrating the quality, not the quantity.

A smile spreads across Remus’s face, and he can immediately see the relief on his friends’ faces. “I love it,” he says.

And honestly, how could he not love something that results in Sirius throwing his arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek?

Remus tries to ignore the fluttering of his heart. They’re celebrating five years of friendship, for Godric’s sake. Being friends with someone as loving, bright and cheerful as Sirius is already more than he could have ever asked for. Wanting more, even dreaming of more, would be pushing his luck. See? His brain knows all this, but apparently his heart hasn’t gotten the message.

James gets him out of his frenzy by taking a gift from the pile. “Alright! Lets see who the first gift is for!”

“You got gifts for everyone?” Remus asks curiously.

“Why, of course, Moony!” James exclaims. “Managing to keep one of the greatest persons ever as our friend is really a gift-worthy accomplishment for us! Really something we should be celebrating and congratulating each other on.”

Sirius nudges Remus playfully. “You can see your presents as a reward for having put up with us for so long.”

Remus chuckles. He definitely doesn’t need a reward for one of the greatest things that has ever happened to him, but he’s not gonna say no to the tea, mug and book that lie before him with his name written on them either.

The next surprise comes halfway through October, during their second trip to Hogsmeade of that year. Remus is sitting at the Three Broomsticks with Peter, waiting for James and Sirius to come back with their Butterbeers.

However, suddenly Sirius places a large mug filled with decadent chocolate milk in front of Remus, complete with whipped cream and a chocolate biscuit on top and sprinkled with chocolate chips. At the same time James presses another card in his hands. Remus immediately laughs at the doodle of him in front of Honeydukes, holding a large stack of chocolate in his arms. Wondering what his friends came up with this time, he opens the card.

Moons,

Happy 4-year anniversary of your very first trip to Hogsmeade with us! (Ah, the day Moony discovered Honeydukes...)

Many trips (legal and less-legal) have followed and will follow since!

Lots of love,

Wormy, Pads, and Prongsie

Remus actually wasn’t able to join them on the first weekend they had been allowed to go, as it had been a full moon the night before. Only the next weekend a Hogsmeade trip was planned, they were able to go with the four of them, today apparently four years ago.

The following hour Remus spends reminiscing all his trips to Hogsmeade with his friends. The one when James and Sirius had hidden in the Shrieking Shack and fired hexes at passers-by to convince everyone the Shack is cursed, the one when James tried to secretly follow Lily around to find out what to buy for her birthday and she ended up throwing Butterbeer in his face, the one when Remus was acting cranky because his favourite chocolate was sold out, only to find out Sirius had secretly bought the last bars for him as a surprise, or the one when James actually managed to get a date with Lily, and Peter had asked Mary McDonald, so Remus and Sirius went together (and Remus had to actively tell himself that it was not a date for the entire day, though he doesn’t discuss that last bit with his friends).

Before they leave, the other three Marauders want Remus to pick out all the chocolate he loves most from Honeydukes as his anniversary gift, but Remus refuses, not wanting to be selfish by letting his friends buy him his treats. Back in their dorm, however, it isn’t long before a bag filled with Honeydukes’ finest just mysteriously appears on Remus’s bed.

It isn’t until January, right at the start of the new year, Remus is surprised one again. He steps into the kitchens, where the others had told him to come to prepare for a prank, and finds his friends sitting at a table around a huge chocolate cake.

“Moony!” Peter calls out, while James and Sirius shoot confetti from their wands.

“What’s this?” Remus asks, grinning while he’s shaking the confetti out of his hair. This time he’s more excited than nervous.

Peter hands him the card. Remus chuckles as he sees the little deer with a rat hanging from his antlers, closely followed by a wolf and a dog walking side-by-side, doodled on the front. He opens the card, fully prepared for another odd anniversary his friends managed to come up with, but not prepared in the least for the wave of emotion that washes over him.

Dear Moony,

Happy 2-year anniversary of the day from which you’ll never again have to spend another full moon on your own!

Love, your animalistic friends,

Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Remus reads the card a couple more times, until his eyes start tearing up and his vision becomes blurry.

The short message is not only a reminder of what his friends have done for him, how they’ve gone and made an aspect of Remus’s life immeasurably better, an aspect Remus had always believed to never get any better.

And then the words ‘never again’, meaning that his friends will continue to help him once they’ve left school, meaning that it doesn’t end when school does, meaning that his friends will always be there for him.

Remus doesn’t even realise he’s crying until two arms wrap around him and Sirius pulls him into a tight hug. His head resting on Sirius’s chest and Sirius soothing him: exactly how he’s been waking up after the full moon for the last two years, and how he’ll be waking up after the full moon for the years to come.

At the end of March, it’s promising to become the first soft spring day after the winter, though the nights still have a chill in the air.

The Marauders are sitting on a blanket in the grass, wrapped in sweaters watching the sun slowly rise over the lake. They’d snuck out in the middle of the night through one of their secret passageways, and spent the rest of the night drinking, talking, star gazing, and now watching the sunrise.

“Cheers!” They cluck their mugs filled with hot mead together in the golden light of the rising sun. “To beautiful spring days and good times!”

“And to Moony,” Sirius adds. “On this special day.”

Remus laughs. “I should have known!” Though he feels this night has already been special enough.

Though he immediately starts reading the card, with a pretty doodle of the castle on the front.

To Messr. Moony,

Happy 2-year anniversary of the day you discovered the last secret passageway and finished the Marauders’ Map!

We solemnly swear to always remain up to no good!

There’s always more mischief to manage,

Yours sincerely,

The Messrs. Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

Remus fondly shakes his head. The season is changing, life at Hogwarts is slowly coming to an end, but the Marauders’ days of mischief making are not ending just yet.

On the 17th of May, Remus is sitting at a table in the common room, surrounded by books, parchment, quills and ink. He’s waiting on Lily. He has a Potions essay due, and horrible in potions as Remus is, he really needs a good grade. Luckily, Lily has agreed to help him, as she’s the absolute best in Potions. Lily is not great because professor Slughorn adores her, professor Slughorn adores her because she’s great.

Remus sees Lily step through the portrait hall carrying a large pile of books, and immediately jumps to his feet to help her carry the load.

However, when they return to Remus’s spot, a beautifully wrapped gift is placed on top of his parchment.

“They came up with another date?” Remus mumbles, slightly embarrassed, but Lily just looks excited. Word has gotten around that the Marauders have been throwing Remus all kinds of parties for all kinds of reasons and everyone just loves it.

“Open it, open it!” Lily claps her hands and Remus tears the wrapping paper off.

Lily sucks in her breath. “Oh!”

Remus himself is unable to form any words as he’s holding up a frame. All he can do is stare wide-eyed at the framed drawing in his hands.

It’s definitely Sirius’s work. Not a doodle this time, but a completely finished, serious artwork. Remus recognizes himself in the drawing, curled up in an armchair, one hand holding a book, and the other holding a mug with steam circling upwards. The scene is seemingly illuminated by soft sunlight falling through a window on Remus’s left, giving his eyes and hair a slightly golden glow. The drawing is somehow comforting, in his ability to capture such a calm, serene moment. Though Remus thinks the boy in the drawing must look much more beautiful than he ever has, he has no problem recognizing himself, as the composure, radiance and expression are so typically his, that it makes him feel strangely vulnerable that someone has looked at him and seen him, really seen him.

“It’s beautiful,” Lily whispers.

The only thing written on the drawing is a date scribbled in the bottom right corner: 17/05/1977. Exactly one year earlier. Remus’s heart is thumping as he picks up and reads the small note that came with the gift.

Dearest Moony,

Happy 1-year anniversary of the day I fell in love with you.

Yours, now and always,

Padfoot

Remus can hardly breath. The more he reads the words, the more his brain stops functioning. He looks at Lily, who has been reading over his shoulder, with a pleading look.

“Lily, what do I do?” He asks desperately.

“Well,” Lily says uncertain. “I’m sure if you tell him you care for him, but see him as just a friend, he’ll-”

“Why in Merlin’s name would I want to say that?” Remus stares at her like she has grown two heads. “Why would I want to turn him down?”

“You looked so panicked!” Lily defends herself. “Why in Merlin’s name are you even asking my advice if you feel the same way? Just go find that boy and bloody snog the living daylights out of him! Merlin, Remus, it’s not Advanced Potions!”

Finding Sirius and snogging him sounds scary, risky, dangerous, and absolutely wonderful, so Remus decides to embrace his Gryffindor courage and go for it.

He barely nods at Lily before dashing away. He bumps into Peter while rushing through the common room.

“Oi, Moony! I just wanted to ask you, are you-”

“Sorry, Wormtail, gotta run! I have to go and snog Padfoot!”

He hears Peter’s voice echo through the room as he climbs through the portrait hole. “Yeeeeesssss!”

In the corridor, he passes James.

“Moony…”

“Sorry, Prongs, no time!”

“He’s up in the Owlery!” James calls after him. “I thought you might like to know you’re going the wrong way.”

Remus immediately turns around and runs in the other direction. He hears James mumble when he passes him again.

“About bloody time.”

Remus’s courage wavers a bit as he steps into the Owlery. Sirius is standing with his hands resting on the ledge, and he’s looking out over the Hogwarts grounds. His pale skin, his grey eyes reflecting the sky, his long hair with strands blowing in his face. Surely there has to be some sort of misunderstanding. Surely a boy this beautiful can’t possibly have feelings for someone like Remus.

But then Sirius turns around to look at him, and Remus can clearly see the love and affection, mingled with fear and uncertainty, in his eyes.

“The twenty-third of September,” Remus blurts out.

Sirius looks at him questioningly.

“That’s my date,” Remus clarifies.

There’s hope in those eyes now. “As in the date of your one-year anniversary of having feelings… for me?” Sirius asks tentatively.

Remus shakes his head, and Sirius drops his gaze, looking embarrassed. “Two years,” Remus quickly clarifies.

Sirius looks up at him again, his eyes now the way Remus likes them best: sparkling.

“Really, Moony?” There’s unconcealed happiness and relief in his voice. “Two whole years and you never said anything?”

Remus huffs. “It’s not an easy thing to say! You know that, took you a year as well.”

“That’s still twice as fast,” Sirius teases.

Remus sighs in defeat. “You’re right. And there’s no way I can give you something so special and amazing as you’ve given me today.”

“You can forget about your date anyway,” Sirius says.

Remus raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

Sirius reaches out his hand towards Remus. “I was rather hoping we could share this date? As the date we officially became a couple?”

Remus hearts stops for a moment, but then he knows just what to do.

He takes the hand Sirius is offering, and in a moment of bravery pulls him close, so that they’re standing chest to chest.

Remus tugs a strand of hair falling over Sirius’s face behind his ear. “I would love to.”

#10daysofhealing #wolfstarcomfortminifest #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #my tumblr writing

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Should Auld Acquaintance be Forgot

Honestly, Emma was less mad about the whole thing than she expected. Disappointed, that was the word. And everyone knew that disappointed was far worse than mad.

Because being dateless on New Year’s Eve was one thing. Being dateless while pining over a roommate with a secret Match.com profile and apparent relationship-type desires that were the complete opposite of her was—

Disappointing, really.

If Killian kissed anybody, she was going to drink an entire bottle of champagne by herself.

-----

Rating: Teen, kissing, far too many Grinch references

Word Count: 9.2K

AN: Today is our last festive prompt! Or, at least one that’s a stand-alone story. Our said prompts come from @kmomof4 who asked for “i don't wanna get up-- you're comfy."// "i'm cold. come closer." //"i love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.” And I got all three in. As always, I cannot thank you guys enough for clicking and reading and saying such nice things. Here’s to a 2021 that’s full of even more fic, satisfying TV storylines and lots of fictional characters making out.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam

-----

“Shit.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Rolling her eyes over the top of the phone in her hand, Ruby didn’t look particularly amused at the distinct lack of enthusiasm in Emma’s voice. That was something of a theme. For like—the last thirty-six hours, but also the majority of their relationship, and none this should have come as a surprise, only she’d had a lot of wine in the last forty-six minutes, and it might have been catching up with her. Was definitely catching up with her.

“How much did you pay for the garbage alcohol you’ve been shoving at me?” Emma asked archly, and she was only slightly worried about getting home. Her head felt muddled. Like there were too many thoughts, and this time of year always did that to her brain, and her consciousness, and at least eighty-two percent of this was Mary Margaret’s fault.

For deciding that they were going to have a party.

On New Year’s Eve.

Like complete cliches.

“I’ll have you know,” Ruby drawled, eyes dropping back to her phone and whatever noise it was making, “that I paid at least twelve dollars for—”

“—Lies,” Elsa yelled, and it was a testament their current situation that she’d raised her voice at all. Nothing like that ever happened, and the overall roll rate of Ruby’s eyes was going to give her a migraine.

Her phone made another noise.

“She’s lying to you,” Elsa added. “Straight to your face.”

She’d still be staring down a dateless New Year’s Eve, but—

Emma scrunched her nose. “What else is new?”

“Oh, I take offense to that,” Ruby cried, but she was almost too obviously distracted, and the inability of this conversation to be concise was starting to grate on Emma’s nerves. Or what remained of them. Maybe she was the Grinch.

No, that wasn’t right. The Grinch had an enlarged heart, which Emma certainly did not have — and that was nice and appropriately festive for the season, the Grinch, not her, and he had a dog. Emma didn’t have a dog. If she had a dog, there was no possible way she’d be annoyed as she was.

Whatever, honestly.

Her date, or lack thereof, was not important, and she was going to drink this entire bottle of Barefoot Moscato, price tag be damned, and then she was going to figure out some way to get home. Without falling over.

Also, the Grinch didn’t have a roommate. Unless you counted the dog, and Emma didn’t think Max could conceivably hold so many titles in a twenty-two minute animated Christmas special, and she imagined the Grinch was also not pining after his dog slash roommate slash stand-in reindeer. That’d be weird.

For a twenty-two minute animated Christmas special.

She’d never seen the Jim Carey version. Or that other one with Benedict whatever-his-name-is.

Away from dating apps and wine that was very likely going to give her one hell of a headache, and Killian would at least make sure she was vaguely hydrated before she collapsed on some sort of horizontal surface. She wasn’t going to be picky about which one, honestly.

“Why are there so many versions of the Grinch?”

Ruby didn’t look at her. Her eyebrows moved, though. Lifted ever so slightly into her hairline, and Elsa’s glance wasn’t exactly subtle, and Emma needed to go home.

“Expand on that for me,” Ruby said, lips twisted as soon as she stopped talking. Something was wrong. Well, more wrong. In an alcohol-saturated sort of way that included all those previously discussed mobile dating apps.

“There are so many Grinches,” Emma said. “You think that’s a commentary on society? Like as a whole? That we need to—”

“—Embrace the spirit of Christmas?”

“Because we as a general population are all assholes?”

“You’ve had too much wine.”

“Not a question,” Elsa mumbled, elbow bumping Emma’s shoulder when she perched on the edge of the sofa, and Ruby’s eyes were still doing that thing. Widening every now and then — a flash of understanding mixing in with surprise, and Emma wasn’t sure how many muscles were in a human thumb, but she figured all of Ruby’s were getting quite a workout, scrolling as quickly as they were.

“If I have,” Emma muttered, “it is entirely Ruby’s fault. Who buys pink Moscato and expects their guests not to drink the whole bottle?”

“Seems to suggest you’re a guest, though,” Ruby said, “and that’s awfully prim and proper.”

Ruby couldn’t possibly be Cindy Lou Who in this metaphor.

Emma couldn’t argue with that. Mostly because she’d drank so much of the pink Moscato. “Ok, ok, forget the wine for two seconds. And the Grinch. Why were you making proclamations before? They were very loud and—”

Nothing changed. The phone was still there — wobbling slightly because it seemed Ruby’s forearm strength was lacking just a bit, but the screen didn’t change, and Emma was certain this was somehow also Taylor Swift’s fault. For rerecording Love Story and letting Ryan Reynolds use it in that Match.com ad.

“So…”

Although really that made it more Scooter whatever-his-last-name-was’s fault, for stealing all of Taylor Swift’s songs and being a noted and massive dick, and Emma’s inability to remember anyone’s last name was clearly something of a personality failing.

“Thoughts?” Ruby pressed.

At least twelve-thousand, but none of them seemed especially interested in being said out loud, and Emma’s tongue felt like it was simultaneously growing and dissolving in her mouth. None of it was particularly comfortable, what legitimately felt like cotton balls bursting out of her cheeks and making it difficult to breathe, and she should have lived in a cave. With her dog and the inexplicable set of antlers she owned to make that same dog look like a reindeer, and then she wouldn’t have to be staring at Killian Jones’ dating profile on goddamn Match.com eight days before a New Year’s Eve party she only marginally wanted to attend.

“Don’t people just use Tinder now?”

Emma’s voice did not sound like her own. Presumably because of the tongue thing and the cotton ball analogy, and she wondered if the Uber driver she was inevitably going to request would be especially annoyed by her desire to blast Taylor Swift in the backseat.

She’d give them five stars.

No matter what — because she wasn’t an asshole, but especially if they let Emma blast Taylor Swift in the backseat.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “You’re very old; you know that?”

Her face was very warm.

“Buy me better wine.”

Emma had never gone into cardiac arrest before, but the sinking feeling in her chest was sudden and a little jarring and she tried very hard to swallow down the wad of emotion currently taking up residence in the middle of her throat. Didn’t work.

“Only nine bucks, honestly?”

Failed spectacularly, quite honestly.

“I don’t want to know,” she announced. “Whatever he put on there is his—”

“What Killian does or doesn’t do in the world of modern dating has nothing to do with me,” Emma said, only a little disappointed because she didn’t think people got multiple miracles in their lives and to having hers ensure her voice didn’t shake over those particular words in that particular order felt lame.

“I don’t care.”

All things considered.

Scrunching her nose, Ruby’s nod lacked a certain sense of honesty. “Sure, sure, sure, well—” She shrugged. “—He’s here. Being available. Presumably for New Year’s, and…”

Emma waited for the rest. All the reasons she’d heard before, and her friends were convinced. Something about inevitable, and happily ever after, but that second part was mostly Mary Margaret and it was likely easier to believe in the fairy tale when you were living it.

Pessimism was also fairly lame. As far as defining traits went.

“What are you—” Elsa started, but then she was moving and her teeth clicked exactly five times, as soon as she looked at the screen, and Emma was not capable of dealing with any of this. Watching her friends gape at her, Ruby’s phone still held loosely in her hand, and neither one of them objected when she finally managed to get to her feet.

And the Uber driver didn’t offer to play any Taylor Swift, but Emma didn’t ask and she didn’t blast it in the backseat.

So, that felt like a victory. Which she desperately needed — to counteract the state of her pancreas and half a dozen other internal organs when her thumb hovered over the button, and it took at least two minutes and twelve seconds for Match.com to download.

She should have waited until she was on wifi.

To say that Emma’s relationship with Killian Jones was complicated would be something of an understatement. And she wouldn’t use the word relationship.

He was her friend.

Her very good looking friend, with stupid eyes that regularly flashed at her like he was too aware of the mush-like state it sent her into, and he was friends with her brother, and once upon a time she’d briefly considered hating him, but that never really stuck and he made hot chocolate better than anyone she knew. Refused to use the prepackaged mix. Did something on the oven that Emma didn’t entirely understand, and never trusted herself to try on her own, and Killian was never late with his half of the rent.

Or any of the utilities.

Living together was a decision born of convenience and the extra room Killian had once Will moved out, but it also made a lot of sense and it was good. Really good. Would have been great if Emma wasn’t pining after him and his stupid eyes like some lovelorn idiot, but she had gotten almost impossibly good at rationalizing the whole thing in the last few years, and—

“Shit, shit, shit,” she chanted, slumped in the corner of the couch with her knees threatening to impale her chin and there must have been a record for frustrated cursing while staring at a roommate's dating profile. She’d definitely passed it, like, seven minutes ago.

Scrolling down only led to scrolling back up, twisting her lower lip between her teeth while staring at photos and lists and options she was sure came from some AI or relationship-type algorithm and coming to terms with the end of the world was harder than she expected it to be.

At least the end of her love life.

Of which there wasn’t much to begin with, so it probably wasn’t very hard for the whole thing to topple over, but Emma was feeling especially melodramatic and they needed to buy some WD-40. For their very squeaky door.

“Hey,” Killian said, shrugging out of his jacket and it was apparently snowing out. Flakes dusted his shoulder, clung to several strands of hair, and Emma couldn’t melt into the couch. They couldn’t afford to buy another one. “That can’t be good for your spine.”

Humming, Killian didn’t bother brushing the snow out of his hair before he walked forward, falling onto the other end of the couch and pulling Emma’s sock-covered feet into his lap. “Are they any cookies left?”

“I’m going to tell Mary Margaret you’re a cookie glutton and—”

Sixteen guys had messaged her already.

“So I’ve heard. Whatcha you doing?”

Maybe that was a compliment. Emma didn’t think so, though.

She couldn’t believe she had to make a profile. To stalk her roommate. And his interests. There were a lot of interests on Killian’s Match.com profile.

Strictly speaking, she didn’t have much experience with shoulders and their proclivity to being rested on, but she liked to believe Killian’s was one of the more comfortable out there. Her head fit very well, at least.

“Nothing.”

So as to avoid any lingering after-effects from its continued failure.

“I’ve got twenty-seven bucks on him asking at the party,” Killian said, “but Locksley thinks he’s just going to lose any sense of self-control and blurt it out before, I just—”

Emma’s phone dinged.

Again. Multiple times, in quick succession — and she should have turned off notifications for that stupid app, but she wasn’t really using it for its intended purpose and Killian was staring at her. With a look that made it all too clear he knew what was going on.

That didn’t make her feel any better.

“Ruby said she was thinking about bringing someone,” he muttered, “to, uh—to the thing. The New Year’s thing.”

The air shifted. Crackled with electricity Emma knew she was imagining, and want she was only barely managing to temper and if Will did propose to Belle on New Year’s Eve she refused to be held accountable for her emotional reaction. She’d totally cry.

“Call it a thing again.”

Ruby would never let her hear the end of that.

Shaking his head brusquely, Killian’s grip tightened around Emma’s ankle. She had no idea he was holding her ankle — fingers wrapped all the way around the joint until the tips threatened to touch because apparently his fingers were that long, and she’d probably only obsess about that for like the next few years, or so. Which seemed reasonable.

“Anyone good?” he asked, low and gruff and whatever was back in the middle of her throat did not appear intent on leaving any time soon. No matter how many times Emma swallowed.

Or how often Killian’s eyes flickered. Towards her throat.

The idea never even crossed her mind, honestly.

Flinching the way she did only guaranteed that Emma’s spine collided with the arm of their couch, but she was at least less inclined to melt and she supposed romantic beggars could not be choosers. “Yuh huh,” she said, “and you’re well acquainted with the noises and the reasons behind the noise?”

That probably wasn’t important.

And just like that—it was fine. Well, maybe not fine, but at last fine adjacent, and something inching closer to normal, and Killian kissed her temple again before he stood up.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

She didn’t pick up her phone until she went to bed, dragging every blanket they owned behind her down the hallway.

On the ever-growing list of problems Emma had during a week when problems were supposed to be non-existent, Killian's Match.com profile had very easily cemented itself at the top of the list.

It didn’t match — her, at least. Every single thing he was apparently looking for in some sort of potential life partner was the exact opposite of every single thing that made Emma her. Musical tastes were diametrically opposed, movies she’d never once seen him watch in the legitimate decades she’d known him were praised with the kind of adjectives even Robert Ebert would scoff at. The pictures were good, but Emma knew that was more a result of her attraction to her roommate than anything else, and he said he liked people who cooked.

She couldn’t cook.

She tried.

Twenty-four hours after the weird couch incident, which was a name only Emma was using, she was sure, and the smoke alarm had gone off and—

This was Ruby’s fault. And Taylor Swift. Whose new album was very good, and made for perfect and consistent pining music.

She was so disappointed she was positive she reeked with it.

“Cooking,” Emma said, like that was an explanation and not an excuse and she was definitely using too many of her personal miracles. “Nothing caught on fire!”

Lolling his head to the side, Killian leveled her with an exasperated expression. Brows pinched together and that shade of blue wasn’t quite as sharp, but was still somehow almost amused and she didn’t think the oven was supposed to make that noise. It was very loud. “Lack of flames is not a sign of success, love,” he said, “and it’s—ah, fuck.”

The smoke alarm was louder than the oven.

Blasting through their apartment and, Emma was sure, through the entire building, the beep hit its rhythmic stride quickly, so she reacted like an adult to the whole situation by gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. Killian breezed by her, swinging open another squeaky door and fumbling through what sounded like several dozen boxes and he cursed. More than once.

Emma nodded.

Emma cracked open one eye. “We do, I—”

Their neighbors must hate them. Rightfully so.

“We definitely own a broom,” she promised, “we’re not savages. We clean.”

Graham was probably very nice.

“Was there a reason for that?”

Emma swallowed. Still didn’t help.

“Swan.”

“Alright,” Killian said softly, “c’mere.”

Saying that what happened next happened quicker than Emma expected it to, also suggested that Emma expected it to happen at all, which was one of the bigger lies she’d told in the last week or so, and she was really growing a metric shit ton of lies, so that was especially impressive and she yelped very loudly. As soon as hands gripped her hips, lifting her off the floor and directing her underneath the questionably loud smoke detector.

“This could wake the dead,” she proclaimed, shouting the words because if they were going to descend into total farce, then she was really going to lean into it.

Killian’s head fell to her stomach. If she died right there, she hoped he didn’t drop her. Although, she’d also be dead, so—she probably wouldn’t notice.

“Just turn it off, love.”

She hated all that music.

“See,” he grunted, “that makes it sound like we don’t have a broom, and—” Adjusting her, one of her legs twisted around his, something Emma was going to claim as instinct and not that same want that was another one of her more defining characteristics, and he definitely exhaled. Loudly. And directly into her t-shirt. “—Swan, I really need you to fix this, love.”

Using his shoulder as leverage, and keeping her leg exactly where it was, she still had to stretch her arm out and it took far more movement than either one of them could apparently handle silently for her to press the button that fixed everything.

Despised The Godfather, on some sort of fundamental level and Kay deserved better than Michael Corleone, even if that version of Al Pacino was almost kind of attractive, but—

Relatively speaking, at least.

He didn’t lift his head immediately. Or drop her. That probably wasn’t a metaphor.

Emma’s metaphors regularly sucked, anyway.

“Pizza or Chinese?”

Chuckling into her stomach, Killian’s laugh warmed her from the inside out and kept the goosebumps there and she’d kind of forgotten he was shirtless. Idiot bastard, that was her.

Graham Humbert had owned more plaid shirts than anyone Emma had ever seen.

“Order extra egg rolls, and I’m in,” Killian said, finally working her back to the ground and they didn’t move. They stood there. Staring at each other, and conducting more inventory, and Emma could only imagine the penance she’d have to do for keeping her stomach in its correct spot.

“Deal.”

“She’s in love with him.”

“Which part?” Ruby asked. “How in love Emma is with Jones or whether or not we were acknowledging his shitty dating profile?”

“Doesn’t have to,” Elsa muttered over the top of her half-empty glass. “It basically broadcasts out of her.”

They took the batteries out of the smoke detector a day later.

“Either or, I guess.”

Not the safest thing they’d ever done, but Emma kept trying to cook and failing spectacularly and she was certain the people at the Chinese restaurant fourteen blocks away knew their order based solely on the sound of her voice when she called.

“Does this have a name?”

Slumped as she was over the edge of the bar, Emma barely noticed the lift in Killian’s eyebrows, but that also might have been her tendency to be preoccupied with his mouth and he was smiling at her. Wide. Meaningful—ly.

Distractingly.

At some point that afternoon, she’d decided she needed to respond to Graham’s messages. Or, well—keep responding. There’d been some conversation, what might have been construed as flirting if Emma’s thumbs didn’t keep cramping up while they flew across her phone’s keyboard, but that definitely wasn’t a sign either, and the overall lightness in her body was likely a direct result of whatever blue-colored alcoholic concoction Killian had put in front of her forty-seven minutes before. There were gummy—things floating in it.

Or there had been.

She’d eaten them.

Her mouth felt a little numb.

“What do you think we should call it?”

Propping her chin on her hand made Emma wobble a bit, Killian’s lips twitching again. Idiot bastard asshole. Poor Graham. She was a jerk. And his eyes were getting brighter.

Killian’s. Not Graham’s.

She had no idea what Graham’s eyes did.

“Are you serving me unnamed alcohol?” Emma asked, and she was sure she did not slur her words the way it sounded.

He shrugged.

Good thing the holiday season was nearly over.

And Will’s reaction was far too loud, tossing a towel over his back before he draped himself across Killian’s back, hooking his own chin over that slightly lifted shoulder. “He’s showing off, Em. That’s all it is. Are you going to die, though?”

At the bar.

“Your tongue is blue.”

Four seats away from Leroy the regular.

“Don’t move so quickly, Swan,” Killian said, a hand finding her cheek and that was fine. Totally fine. Great, even. Super—

Califragilisticexpialidocious.

So, she was more drunk than she’d been. Like, ever.

“Your fault,” she mumbled. Burrowing further into his palm was not an option Emma had, so naturally that’s exactly what she did and Will made another noise. “Something to add, Scar—” Emma paused, lifting an impatient finger when both men in front of her dared to laugh. “—Let, you jerky jerkface.”

“You will find out whenever else does, kid,” Will guaranteed. “And there were at least four different types of rum in that swill he gave you.”

That would have annoyed Belle.

Humming, Will untwisted his limbs from Killian, a different hand finding her cheek and the strands of hair that were hanging over her eyes and she scowled when he tapped her chin. “Trying to impress you,” Will repeated intently.

“Is he—” Emma’s brain couldn’t keep up. Thoughts rushed through her, firing synapses that were only passably functional, and the lights from the jukebox across the room were starting to float in her vision. Pressing her fingers into her cheek, Emma knew the skin there moved, but she also could not feel a single thing and—“You’re laughing at me.”

Her head hurt. Ached, even through the haze she’d only recently evolved into, and Emma hated bowling. Was absolutely God awful at it. The kind of awful that required bumpers whenever they’d gone, and they used to go when they were kids. On New Year’s Eve afternoon, some tradition that Ruth had come up with and David honored, even after he and Mary Margaret had segued into happily ever after, and Emma could count on one hand how many times she’d crested the 100-point mark.

“I am,” he said, “but you’re also sloshed, so I’m willing to give you a pass. And no.”

She felt oddly similar now.

Playing a game she wasn’t very good at, with more gutter balls than any self-respecting adult should record. Eight pounds of cylindrical force kept rolling through her, threatening anything in its path, but not hitting what it was supposed to, and she also could have eaten an entire tub of bowling alley snacks right now.

“Why are fries better in a bowling alley? Like, better than anywhere else.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Better than Shake Shack?”

Blinking continued to be one of Emma’s less impressive reactions, but she was stuck on that bowling ball metaphor and Killian’s arm around her shoulders made it impossible to talk.

“‘S’totally different.”

“You ready, love?”

“We’re leaving, love,” Killian said, and there was at least part of her that was smart enough to pick on repeat endearments. And then promptly cling to them. In her swollen heart.

“For?”

“Make sure you brush your tongue too tonight, Em,” Will advised, “otherwise that blue is going to stick.”

Saluting left her more off-balance than she’d been all night, laughter echoing behind them as Killian pulled the door shut and he’d ordered them a car. Emma honestly had no idea how they got in said car, but then they were moving and she was only slightly dizzy and he—

He made another noise, slumping next to her, which made it even easier for Emma to touch as much of him as possible and he didn’t object. She didn’t think he would. Ever, actually.

“Smell really good.”

God, poor Graham.

She was the worst.

David played hockey when he was a kid.

“Not as such, no,” Killian said, “just thinking we might be able to add something new and—” His shoulder shifted under her cheek, Emma’s soft hum of disapproval making him smile. She still didn’t check. “—Not that we haven’t been making money, but...people gotta have a schtick.”

No sound. Nothing except engines, and there could only be one engine in a car, Emma was fairly positive, so that didn’t really make sense and Killian stared ahead when she tilted her head up. “Sometimes,” Killian admitted softly, “but, uh—like I said, just trying to get something that might help us a little more and weddings are expensive, y’know?”

“Whatever,” Emma groaned, “just—I’m saying it’s a good bar.”

Thinking about melting as often as she was, was starting to become patently ridiculous.

“You’re trying to come up with ridiculous bachelorette party drinks—”

With such God awful interests in the opposite sex.

Emma rapped her knuckles against his chest. “To help pay for Scarlet’s wedding?”

The world was a joke. Happy Holidays.

“You’re not getting ready with Lucas or Elsa or anything tomorrow, are you?”

Huh. No grand slam, then.

Of all the questions she definitely wasn’t prepared for, that was at the bottom of the list. Emma was not actually making any of these lists. “This isn’t prom.”

Being hungover on New Year’s Eve was one of the crueler jokes the universe had played on her in the last week or so.

“Yeah, ok,” she said, letting her head drop back to his shoulder and Emma wasn’t sure why it sounded like he exhaled. In something almost like relief. Eyes fluttering the way they were, she must have imagined it, another ridiculous metaphor and even dumber analogy and her groan was especially pitiful when the car stopped. No way her stomach was going to stay where it was supposed to for the rest of the night.

All of Emma hurt, muscles she hadn’t been aware she was in possession of seemingly rising up in revolt of her very existence, and she couldn’t really turn her head. Which endlessly delighted Ruby in a way that was making her reconsider their friendship, and Killian kept glancing in their direction. His arm bumped Emma’s no less than twenty-four times in the car over.

And for as much as she wanted to crawl under several mountains of blankets and consider all her romantic shortcomings, something in the back of Emma’s mind preened a bit under his flitting gaze, trying not to meet his eyes too often. Only to fail every time — if Ruby’s laughter was any indication, and Will had groaned several times, but he also didn’t appear to be engaged yet and Emma had apologized to Graham that afternoon.

Through text, though. So it only kind of counted. She wasn’t even sure parts of the messages were English. Her head felt like it was going to snap open, which made the champagne she was practically shotgunning at that point a very bad decision, but she’d been on a roll on that front, so she had no intention of altering course and it was nearly midnight.

“This is depressing,” Ruby announced. “He’s staring again.”

Rolling her eyes was an impossibility if Emma didn’t want to make a spectacle of herself in front of her brother and some of the teachers from Mary Margaret’s school, and Ruby’s date was nice. Had a lot of pictures of her dog on her phone, but nice all the same.

More blinking. Honestly, she was a mess. The teachers kept hogging space on the couch. Killian smiled when he looked at Emma, that time. “Elaborate on that.”

“Are you the dumbest person alive?”

“No, this is just our general opinion of you. Both of you, really. I—are you not almost painfully aware of how in love Killian is with you? Em, he is staring at you. Like, right now. Blatantly. Obviously. Some other adverb.”

“We live together.”

Wide eyes and an impressively straight row of teeth were all the warning Emma got before there was a hand on her shoulder and he smelled just as good as she was hopeful she hadn’t mentioned last night, but that felt like wishful thinking and Emma did not, in fact, eject any bodily fluids when Killian turned her. Victories, she was flush with them.

“I’m so bad at cooking.”

“Hey,” she breathed, and Ruby groaned so loudly it likely did damage to the ozone layer.

Frozen to the spot, she tried very hard to regulate her breathing and fix her pulse, and neither thing worked. And then. Something clicked — almost audibly in her brain, and her soul and her heart’s potential for explosion was suddenly something she had to worry about.

Killian’s lips twitched. “You got a second?”

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Killian murmured. She barely heard him. Not when there were fingers tracing up her side and lingering on the small of her back, and Emma’s head moved her head as slowly as she could.

If she moved any faster, she’d either fall over or wake up from this very lucid dream and neither of those things were all that positive.

“Cooking, it’s—I love you a lot, but you are absolutely atrocious at it.”

“You’ve got to stop cooking, love.”

The world stopped. Paused, at least. Gave Emma’s muddled mind a second to catch up, and she’d need several more seconds, but she also wasn’t quite that greedy and Killian’s smile widened. As soon as her fingers curled into his shirt.

He didn’t move his hands.

“I—” she stammered. “I am...but we don’t match!”

“What is happening right now?” Emma breathed, only cautiously optimistic she wanted the answer.

A chorus of angry jeers rained down on them — Will using Robin to keep himself upright while he flipped Killian off with both hands. “Pining piner who pines like a goddamn idiot.”

“Well, I’m fairly in love with you. To an almost ridiculous degree.”

“I do appreciate the cooking effort though,” he added. “But it’s a very old profile, made almost entirely by Scarlet in—”

“I honestly forgot it existed,” Killian continued, “I’ve never used it, really. Just knew that Scarlet had made the thing, and then I ignored the messages and—”

As it was, her fingers were already tight enough that Emma very easily pulled herself up and the hand at her waist helped keep her balanced and they were very good at this. Kissing, specifically. Heads tilted automatically to an angle that made it all too easy for Emma to open her mouth, and Killian’s tongue was even more distracting when it was brushing hers, and someone was groaning, but that might have been her, or possibly him and his hair was soft. Between her fingers.

“Not as many as you did.”

Breathing was suddenly a secondary concern, and Emma’s lungs had already proved they were basically made of steel, or at least impervious to the flames currently exploding between her ribs and none of that was biologically accurate.

She never did find out where her pancreas was.

And she was so busy dealing with the way the solar system appeared to be reordering itself around the pair of them, that Emma didn’t notice the countdown or the metallic crown tossed at her feet. Only that there were eventually cheers and Ryan Seacrest’s face plastered across the TV on the other side of the room, and one of Killian’s hands had worked underneath her shirt.

The sparkly one that had made his eyes noticeably widen several hours earlier.

“How did you figure it out?”

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #festive fic a thon 2k20 #this ended up much longer than i thought #so really the perfect way to end the year #thanks for reading internet #i think you're all swell

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

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I’ll Be Home (Coming Home After Being Away)

The seventh prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts | Prequel

Prompt List

Words: 4596

Summary: So, this is actually a sequel to tomorrow’s prompt but can be read separately?? I guess?? The rundown is that Link left years ago to search for his fairy and never returned. Zelda tried not to lose hope. He made her a promise, after all.

Ocarina of Time, child timeline?? Idk how the timelines work y’all please

Zelink-mas 2020 l Masterlist

“Your gown is ready, your highness.”

“Thank you,” Zelda answered, nodding in the direction of her lady-in-waiting. “I’ll be there shortly.”

When the door shut behind her, the princess turned her gaze back to the long dried flower. She set it carefully onto the page with the others and slowly closed the book, ensuring no petals or leaves crumbled in the process. The book was placed back on the shelf, right next to the Ocarina of Time and a dust-covered medal imprinted with the crest of Hyrule. She had no time to gaze at the reminders of her childhood this afternoon, because there was beckoning from all directions that insisted on getting her ready in time.

Zelda stepped through the doors of the washroom, where she was pleasantly surprised to see the water was still warm. A wash of her hair and a soap of lavender scent would treat her well and be pleasant to anyone in close proximity. She could not deny her maidens the credit--they always went above and beyond to make sure she was presentable in every fashion. A grand event called for twice the effort, so the princess sat without complaint in her robe as they brushed gentle powders over her face.

“Are you excited, Princess?” asked a maiden as she painted a color onto Zelda’s closed eyelids. “I hear there are princes from outside of Hyrule coming to get a glimpse of you.”

“Oh, is that so? I hope one takes a liking to you, Elizabeth,” she replied, folding her hands in her lap. “You would fare well with royalty.”

“You’re too kind,” Elizabeth said, and Zelda could hear the blush on her cheeks. “No man would notice me.”

“Hold yourself high,” Zelda encouraged as she pried her eyes open. “Everyone is deserving of love and happiness.”

“Do you hope to find love tonight?” asked the maiden behind her, who was busy twisting her hair into an elegant knot.

“I believe that whatever is fated will happen in time. If that time is tonight, then so be it.” It was a far better answer than telling them she had found love long ago and had no intentions of finding it again.

Zelda could hardly blame the maidens for their excited chatter and shared whispers. She pretended not to notice them, because their one form of entertainment was to gossip. Anyone who gossiped with ill intention was not worth troubling herself with, and while they were far from it, she didn’t pay any mind to them. It was not her business what anyone said about her, or about the anticipated guests, or about themselves. She had other matters to concern herself with.

An hour had passed by, and she was finally permitted to stand from the chair and move to the next room. A silken slip hugged her form and protected her skin from the rough edges of the corset. There weren’t many layers, but she was still grateful for the design of the dress.

It was a soft pink, a color to match the rose on her cheeks and paint on her lips. The skirt consisted of multiple layers that ruffled out into a pattern at the bottom. There were lace and glittering jewels sewed onto the bodice that caught the light. The neck cut low, but not low enough to be anything but modest. The top of her sleeves were rather poufy and the rest poured off in pink streams, but they were transparent and light. It fit her well.

The crown on her head, golden and sparkling with precious rubies made her look like a blossoming queen. She would turn heads tonight, more so than usual, and it was all thanks to her dressmaker and maidens. But she was already exhausted, and the ball hadn’t even begun.

Yet she was being escorted through the halls of the castle and steered towards the ballroom, which was already filling up with people. She could see that the maidens were right--there were people from everywhere, even outside of Hyrule. She wondered just how many suitors her father had contacted.

She supposed she would find out shortly, because her father had gathered the attention of the crowd and was now introducing her. With no more room to run, Zelda stepped out from the archway and down the stairs. The king took her hands and pulled her in for a kiss, and she had to fight back a smile.

“I’m not married yet, father,” she said, reaching up a hand to brush away a tear from his cheek.

“No,” he agreed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You really do look like your mother.”

“So I’ve heard,” she replied with a laugh. “It’s not too late to call them off. I could refuse to marry, stay with you.”

It was the king’s turn to laugh as he leaned his forehead to hers.

“Go,” he urged.

She pulled her hands free and pressed a kiss to his cheek before gathering her skirts and descending into the crowd. Various diplomats were on her immediately, greeting her and complimenting her and talking her into a frenzy about their own nations and accomplishments, no doubt trying to impress her. All she could do was smile and nod and pretend she was interested until another person came along to sweep her away.

“My father owns quite the bit of land,” a lord whose name she’d forgotten boasted as he twirled her across the floor. “It could be an advantage for both kingdoms.”

“Yes,” Zelda agreed, but she didn’t voice her knowledge of where this was going. The kingdoms were far enough apart that they’d try to force her to move and give up the rule of Hyrule--which was not an option as far as she was concerned. So when the next person cut in for a dance, she was more than willing to switch partners.

“I hear Hyrule has been at the edge of not one, but two civil wars within the past century. I have no room to suggest anything, but I can offer some tactics that would help convince the provinces to obey,” said a prince from a nation she’d never heard of.

“Hyrule has managed quite well on our own,” Zelda replied, fighting to keep the bite out of her voice. “But thank you. Should we need assistance again, we will be sure to reach out.”

“My father believes in discipline. That’s the only way to make a child listen,” continued the prince, as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.

“I’ve found that competent parents can make do without the use of force,” she stated simply and used a passing server with a tray of wine to make her escape. She was not technically of age to be drinking, but no one knew that as far as she was aware, and if the night was going to continue like this, then a glass or two wouldn’t hurt.

She was happy to find the wine dry but sweet, and she recognized the danger of something so tasty. While a duke rambled away to her, she reluctantly reduced her number of glasses to one for the night. The last thing she needed was for these men to think she was under any sort of influence.

When she was granted a moment to herself again, Zelda ducked further into the crowd until she found someone familiar to her. Nabooru, the not-so-new Gerudo chief, was in attendance, dressed in glittering Gerudo jewels.

“Princess,” greeted Nabooru with her arms open for a hug. “You look as lovely as a rose.”

“It’s lovely to see you again. How is Gerudo Valley fairing?” Zelda asked, taking caution not to spill her drink during the hug.

“Very well, thanks to you. The funds your father lent us were enough to not only build a proper town, but to conduct repairs to the Desert Colossus. With Impa’s consistent transport of food and resources, we’ve managed to turn ourselves around.”

“It does no good to dwell on the past. We can only own up to our mistakes and move forwards from here. Had it not been for our mistreatment of the Gerudo in the first place, Ganondorf would never have felt the need to avenge the pride lost in the civil war.”

“Lighten up, kid,” Nabooru said with a grin. “Things are looking up. Have you found a suitor to your liking yet?”

“Hardly,” Zelda replied, leaning closer as she lowered her voice. “The men I’ve spoken to so far are so full of arrogance and a lust for power.”

“That’s men for you,” Nabooru answered as she took a seat at a table. Zelda smiled and slid into the seat across from her, setting her glass down on the white tablecloth. “Don’t let any of them fool you. Ganondorf had a winning smile and the charm of a king, but look what he truly turned out to be.”

“For all of your skill and beauty, I cannot believe you settled for him.”

“Hey, Gerudo men are in very limited supply. When you’re a naïve girl, a powerful man giving you attention is enough to cloud your mind. I’m happy you’re able to see through that.”

“I would offer to marry you if you were younger,” Zelda joked as she picked up her wine to take another sip. “If any of your warriors are available and interested, I’d be more than happy to comply.”

Nabooru laughed.

“It’s going that badly, huh?”

“I’ve danced with at least eight men so far tonight, and I think three of them were named ‘Edward’,” Zelda whispered with a laugh of her own.

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, Princess. Which ‘Zelda’ are you again? The thirtieth? The forty-seventh?”

Zelda rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t reply because it would seem her time was up. There was a prince who spoke from besides her with an “I’m sorry to interrupt” (oh, he’d better be) and a request to dance.

“Find your prince charming,” Nabooru said, waving Zelda away with her hand. The princess gave her friend a playful glare as she took the prince’s hand and was pulled back towards the center of the ballroom.

“Might I ask who requested my hand in dance?” she asked with a polite smile. Now that she was closer, this prince seemed younger than her. Not by much, but by enough for her to be a little taller than him.

“My name is Prince Henry of the Liles Empire, just off the north coast of Hyrule,” he replied. “It’s a pleasure to see your beauty up close.”

“Likewise,” she said, though she hardly meant it. He was not bad on the eyes, but those who approached her with comments on her appearance struck her as vain and, well, in it for just that. She could be reading them wrong of course, but she’d learned how to navigate her instincts and properly react after Ganondorf’s plan had been thwarted.

“If I’m being honest, I do not know how to hold a proper conversation with a lady such as yourself,” stated Henry as he led them in a circle.

“I could not tell,” she replied with a patient and gentle smile.

“My mother convinced me to ask you to dance. She believes an alliance would benefit our kingdoms.”

“A smart lady. Many of the others here tonight have said the same thing.”

“I don’t want to marry, though. You’re beautiful and kind, but I..”

Zelda gave the poor boy’s hand a squeeze. She knew his position quite well, if she was reading him correctly. All people had their secrets and anxieties. She would likely never see him again, so she felt she could be his peace, even if only for a moment.

“It’s an unpleasant position to be in,” she supplied, twirling him in the direction of a smaller crowd.

“It is. I couldn’t force myself to love anyone else.”

“Oh? Do you have someone in mind?”

A blush crossed the young boy’s face, but he looked eager to tell someone. He was the first of the night not interested in her or her land, so she was more than happy to indulge him.

“A kitchen girl back in my kingdom. She came to deliver breakfast one day when my servant fell ill and spilled tea on me.”

“Ah, a fairytale meeting,” Zelda replied with a small laugh.

“She’s beautiful. But my parents would never hear of it.”

“Stay true to your heart. I was always told that those fated to be together will find each other in time. To those who won’t agree, I say if you aren’t happy, how could you ever be expected to make a kingdom happy?

“They told me you were wise, but you speak as if you know the pain yourself.”

Zelda offered a sad smile. Perhaps one glass had been too many, because she was about to bare her soul to this young prince she’d met only minutes ago.

“I love a boy from my childhood,” she told him, cracking open old scars. “A little boy from the forest who helped me catch a tyrant. He disappeared years ago and no one has seen him since.”

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

“If I may offer advice, Prince Henry, tell your kitchen girl properly that you love her. But take care of your heart. It’s the only one you have.”

She tried to spend as much time around Prince Henry as possible. She found him pleasant company and he could be quite silly, but after an hour, the young prince could no longer keep the other suitors at bay. She was whisked away again, and she was growing very tired.

Her feet were sore in her heels, and her corset felt tighter with every tick closer to midnight. Yet she wasn’t dismissed yet, and she was determined to make it through this. No one could say she hadn’t tried.

Zelda searched the crowd for Nabooru again, longing for another conversation with a competent person, but she’d hardly taken two steps before another voice interrupted her.

“Princess Zelda, might I request a dance?”

She held back a sigh and plastered yet another polite smile on her lips as she turned, but she was not a good enough actor to keep it from slipping away. Her eyes widened and she took a step back, because she was convinced for a moment that she was dreaming.

His eyes were a striking blue, a color she’d accustomed herself with long ago. His smile was charming instead of crooked, but his dimples were just the same. He was taller now and he lacked the forest color he once ran around in, but something about him told her he hadn’t changed that much at all.

“Link..?” she whispered out, then clamped her hands over her mouth like she was afraid of someone hearing her. A breeze slipped past them when a couple whizzed by, but that wasn’t why she was trembling.

“I realize I’m six years late, and I apologize,” he replied, his cheeks reddening with shame. “But I made a promise to you, and I couldn’t bear to break it.”

“You..” For all of her wise words throughout the night, she found it very hard to speak. She took a hesitant step forward, then lifted her hand. Her fingertips brushed over his cheek and once she knew he was solid, she pressed her palm against his skin. He was warm beneath her touch. Warm enough to feel alive. “Is it really you..?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice soft and filled with more emotion than she’d ever heard it before. He placed his hand over her own, making her skin burn under his touch, but she couldn’t pull away.

For a moment, all she could do was look at him. She looked at his eyes, took in his face and his features, and tried to blink the stinging away.

Perhaps the whole ballroom was watching, but Zelda dropped her hand and instead wrapped her arms wordlessly around his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck and squeezed her eyes shut as the first of the sobs escaped her. His arms circled around her waist and held her close, but it did nothing to stop the trembling. He was not the child she hugged all those years ago, but he still felt so familiar.

“Can.. can we go-“ She couldn’t finish her question.

She was aware of the scene she was making, and she didn’t want to embarrass her father any further, so she bit back another sob and kept her head down as Link led her out of the ballroom and onto a nearby balcony. The fresh air was icy on her skin and wet cheeks, but he took her face so gently into his hands that she felt like she would melt.

“I missed you,” he spoke. It was no louder than a whisper, but it reached volumes that deafened her to everything else. All she could do was hug him tight and cry harder.

“Goddesses, Link, I— where did you go?” she asked when she caught her breath again.

“Termina,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but they needed help.”

She’d never heard of it before, but she didn’t care because he was here.

“I thought.. I didn’t know if you were even alive.” But her love for adventure hadn’t changed and she sat him on a bench as she demanded, “Tell me everything.”

And so he did. He told her of the troublesome Skullkid and the malevolent mask. He told her of the overhanging moon that threatened to fall, and of the trials he had to overcome. He told her of the masks he collected and of the god he had to fight. And Zelda’s heart ached for her hero who could not catch a break. Trauma followed him everywhere he went, and he hadn’t even found Navi.

“Link.. I’m so sorry,” she said, gripping his hands tighter. “You’ve gone through so much..”

“It’s over,” he assured her. “Or at least, I hope.”

“I couldn’t imagine. I’m so happy you’re safe. Oh, you’ve grown so much..”

“And you look every bit the princess you were always meant to be.”

Zelda laughed, bubbly and weak, and buried her face in her hands.

“Goddesses, I missed you,” she murmured and wiped at her eyes. How he could still call her beautiful when she looked a mess, she didn’t know.

“I made a pinky promise. Besides, I recall you telling me you’d be very mad at me if I didn’t come back and I don’t think I could live with that.”

She lifted her head and sniffled.

“Well, you certainly took your time,” she joked and brushed some hair from his eyes.

“I hope this can make up for it.” Link pulled a box from his pocket and carefully pried it open. A sparkling blue jewel in the shape of a teardrop hung from a silver chain. It was almost glowing against the black velvet cushion.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed, running her fingers gently over the stone.

“It’s a Moon’s Tear,” he explained as he lifted it from the box.

“From the falling moon?” she asked. Link gestured for her to turn around, so she shifted on the bench and set her back to him.

“Clever girl,” he replied. She could practically hear the smile on his face.

The jewel was cold against her skin, but Link’s fingertips brushing the back of her neck as he clamped the necklace is what made her shiver.

“You’re quite ridiculous, I hope you know that,” she said as she turned to face him again.

“It’s no ring,” he answered and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “But I hope it’ll do.”

Zelda blinked in confusion, fiddling with the Moon’s Tear as she watched him gather his thoughts.

“A ring?” she asked quietly.

“I.. promised to marry you when I got back. You’re perfectly allowed to decline, of course. I wouldn’t— I mean-.. is this weird?”

Her cheeks burned as she burst into a fit of giggles, pressing a hand over her mouth to muffle them. Link looked at her, flushed with embarrassment, and soon he was laughing too. The innocent promise of two children had lasted over years of distance, even if it was more of humor than anything else now that they were older. She leaned into him, holding her stomach as her muscles grew tighter. Goddesses, she missed his laugh so much. Six long years were not enough to change him at all.

When their laughter quieted, Zelda lifted her head and took his face into her hands. He smiled at her, sending her head spinning.

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever return,” she whispered as she ran her thumbs along his cheekbones, relishing in his warmth and presence. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she was being too forward—she just got him back and would rather not lose him again. So she reluctantly pulled her hands back to herself and fiddled with the necklace again.

“There were times I didn’t think I would,” he admitted. With the stories he recounted, she believed him. And she was beginning to understand the Princess’s decision to send him back in time in the first place. But it didn’t seem like he was fated to have an easy existence.

“I’m sorry your search was in vain.” And even that wasn’t enough, but what could she offer him? What words could she say to him that could quell the sadness running deep in his veins, betrayed by his eyes despite how happy he looked to be back. For all the wisdom she held in her blood, she knew no answer.

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Link softly, turning his gaze on her. The more she looked at him, the harder it was to maintain the poise she’d so very recently returned her hold on. So she looked away with a small smile and tilted her head to gaze up at the stars.

“What would you say?” she asked, tracing the constellations painting the sky with her eyes. A thousand stories came with those stars, stories about their past and their future, stories about fate and things beyond their understanding. She always felt that the stars knew and could see everything, and hiding was a naïve comfort they were never really granted. Even when they were children, throwing themselves under a blanket and giggling, the stars could see everything--even the secrets they didn’t truly have. They had known all along what would become of her and of the Hero of Time. She didn’t know if she pitied the stars or envied them.

“I would say anything that leads me back to you is more than worth it.”

Zelda turned her eyes to him, where she found nothing but sincerity and a tired smile. She could remember a childish curiosity whenever he looked at her, but she couldn’t quite name the gaze his eyes held now. Heat blossomed over her cheeks again and with a laugh, she ducked her head.

“Welcome home, Hero,” she said as she shook her head. “I hope you’re able to find the life of peace you deserve.”

“To be honest, Princess, I think a life of peace would drive me to the brink of sanity. I didn’t return with the hopes of finding it. I don’t… I don’t think I’d even want it.”

There was no hiding the mix of confusion and surprise and concern that took over her features upon hearing his words. A life of peace did not interest him? She wondered for a moment whether he was already past the threshold of sanity, or if he’d simply left his mind in Termina.

“Then,” she began, treading lightly over what could possibly be dangerous waters, “what is it that you want?”

“I want a life by your side.” His cheeks were as pink as hers under the moonlight, but it could very well have been just an effect of the bitter cold. “I know we’re not kids anymore and.. and a lot has changed. But if I could be even just in your service, I would be satisfied.”

“You owe nothing more to Hyrule,” Zelda spoke quickly, taking back all sense of personal space as she held his cheek again. “You’ve done more for us than we could ever begin to thank you for. You reap scars and trauma we can’t even begin to imagine. We are happy to have you back, of course, but you needn’t swear your life to any more trouble, Link.”

“Serving you would be of no trouble at all, Princess.” His hands wrapped gently around hers, pulling it from his skin, and he brought her knuckles to his lips instead. His warm breath fanned over her skin and for the first time of the evening, she did not regret the gloveless design of her outfit.

She could hear her own words, hypocritical and laughable, pouring from her lips when she told little Prince Henry to follow his heart and to hell with those who disagreed. It was much harder to take her own advice--like it was a bitter medicine that brought her heart into her throat and made her tremble. But all she could see was the little forest boy giving her one last wave, so much alike with the man who sat before her now. Her heart lurched.

“I love you,” she said, hardly louder than the gentle breeze that circled them. “And I know that I’m not your Zelda--the Zelda you first defended Hyrule for-”

“You are every bit the same Zelda. The only difference is this time, we don’t have to say goodbye. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” she begged, gripping his hands tighter.

“Then let me stay with you.”

He freed a hand and cradled her face. She leaned into his touch, into the warmth that batted away the cold, into the feeling that he really was here. And then he was leaning forwards, his breath fanning over her lips, and she closed the space between them with an eagerness that Impa would refer to as “unladylike”. His lips were soft and their kiss was slow and gentle, fanning a spark so that it blazed into a flame. In the years she had spent imagining how this reunion might go, she never quite got the magic of it right. It felt strong and peaceful, like something old and practiced but new and exciting all at once. And when they parted, Zelda was quick to recall that silly little promise.

“You meant to ask for knighthood,” she stated, a giddy feeling flooding her at the idea. “But how would you feel about prince consort?”

It was Link’s turn to laugh, and she laughed too as she closed a hand around the Moon’s Tear necklace glowing against her skin. Of course, they had a while to catch up on before any official announcement could be made. They were not granted the opportunity to grow into their relationship, and now was a better time than any to get started.

Her Hero had returned, and Zelda quite liked the idea of never having to face any of the men who tried to win her hand ever again. Apparently, it was made evident enough by their return to the ballroom floor.

Link had asked for a dance, after all. Who was she to deny him after so long?

#zelink #oot zelink #ocarina of time #zelink prompts #christmas prompts #hurt/comfort i guess #this is a masterpiece actually i'm proud of it

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thorne93 · 3 years

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The Stars Made Us (Part 23)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2638

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

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Another day of practical training and you were observing in the courtyard on the sidelines. Mordo was instructing everyone but Stephen just wasn’t getting the hang of it. After several minutes, The Ancient One stepped into the area and requested she be alone with Stephen. Mordo obliged and the class followed him inside. You stayed off to the side, watching.

“My hands,” Stephen said in defeat.

“It’s not about your hands,” she countered.

“How is this not about my hands?” he defied.

“Master Hamir?” she requested.

Master Hamir exposed his hand, and then an arm with no hand. He was able to cast the magic and spells, with no hand at all. This clearly dispelled all of Stephens’ preconceived notions of his failings.

“Thank you, Master Hamir. You cannot beat a river into submission. You have to surrender to its current, and use its power as your own,” she advised.

“I… I control it by surrendering control? That doesn’t make any sense,” he said, the frustration clear in his tone. It was the same frustration you heard every night when you tried to teach him, or after every session he had with Mordo and he wasn’t any better than before.

“Not everything does. Not everything has to,” she insisted firmly. “Your intellect has taken you far in life. But it will take you no further. Surrender, Stephen. Silence your ego and your power will rise. Come with me,” she ordered as she formed a portal.

The two of them walked through and you frowned. You went down a few steps to see where they’d gone. It looked snowy.

Suddenly you heard her say, “Surrender, Stephen, and then she returned… by herself and the portal closed.

Your eyes went wide as your heart raced. You ran forward to stand beside her.

“Wha--Where is Stephen?” you asked, panicking.

“On top of Mount Everest.”

“Mount Everest? Oh, okay. Uh, and how is he supposed to get back?” you wondered, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

“On his own. He must surrender to the power, just as you did.”

“That’s different, I just focused really hard.”

“You downplay your intellect and your abilities to everyone you know. It isn’t a nice characteristic, Y/N,” she noted. “You didn’t just focus, you believe in a power bigger than yourself. When you found out you had a mate, you didn’t doubt it for a moment.”

“Well no, why should I?”

“Why Indeed. Stephen needs to gain the same faith and courage you do. That’s all.”

“What if he freezes to death in the meantime?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes trained forward as Mordo came down, asking about the new recruit. You stood between the two, wringing your hands nervously, your chest tightening as you waited. You didn’t have a sling ring on. You couldn’t get to him. Besides, even if you did, maybe this tough love exercise is what he needed.

After another ion seemed to pass, finally, a spark outlined tunnel opened and Stephen fell through. You fell to your knees, your hands going all over him to ensure he was alright. He held onto you, relishing in your body heat. He felt positively ice cold. But he did it.

You were so proud of him, you hugged him tightly.

---------------------

As soon as he got a hot bath, he asked you to help cut his hair. He was ready to move on, and this was a symbol of moving on. He was done with the pity party. You helped cut his hair much shorter to his liking, and quite honestly to yours. Then you worked on shaving him, but when you got to his chin, he stopped you, telling you to leave it. Once you wiped away the cream, he worked some trimmers over the leftover goatee and mustache.

“Damn, Strange, you clean up nicely.”

He smirked.

“Is this how you looked at the hospital?”

“No facial hair,” he noted, “but for the most part, yes.”

“I like it,” you said sincerely, with no hint of jest. You nodded as you admired him from the side. “It suits you, very well.”

--------------------

After a while, he wanted to progress in the program much more quickly. He requested books on astral projection from Wong, but he refused. Being a tempestuous, he broke into the library via portals and took the books he wanted.

As Wong had said, no knowledge is forbidden.

Before long, Stephen was starting to read in his sleep. He used his astral form to take up the knowledge while he rested, giving him 24 hour access to literature he needed.

Things progress quickly for him regarding his sorcery. Meanwhile, you read from the library, took notes leisurely, shopped in the nearby markets, and watched Stephen. Watching him learn was like watching Mozart write concerto. Once or twice he caught you staring at him.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it wasn’t polite to stare?” he deadpanned.

You smirked and laughed, turning back to your laptop to write another email to Charles. When you weren’t looking, Stephen smiled to himself as well.

One day, you were in the library, getting Stephen’s next round of books, but he was busy training for the day, so you thought you’d get a jump start on them. He ended up training well into the evening and you fell asleep at the table in the library.

When he couldn’t find you, he got concerned, only for one of the other students to call to his attention that you were in the library. The two of them walked over and she pointed at you. Stephen was relieved to see you. He walked up and admired you for a moment.

Not just how peaceful you looked but what you meant to him. You had once said that out of everyone he knew, colleagues, friends, everyone, you were the only one to stay. Even Christine up and left after one too many Strange Tantrums. Not only did you stay, but you fulfilled every role he needed in his life at the drop of a hat. Maid, cook, nurse, friend, confidant. You convinced him to come here, you trained with him every night, and you didn’t have to. You could’ve let him come on his own, face it by himself. You could’ve left once he got settled in. You could’ve done your own business while he trained.

But you were with him every step of the way. And while Christine was nice, and bent over backward for him, she wasn’t you. She didn’t risk a relationship with another soulmate, just to save someone else. You did though. You were wholesome, good, and kind. You were tender, but firm. Fierce, but soft. Loving, but

And he was in love with you.

He picked you up and you groaned, your head lolling back as he carried you bridal style across the courtyard to your bedroom. He got you undressed and crawled in bed beside you. He wrapped his arm around you, feeling the love and freedom wash over him.

Now, he just hoped you felt the same.

-----------------

He informed you that the Ancient One said that if she told him any more than he didn’t already know, that he’d run from the temple in terror. You said that was an odd thing to say, but perhaps they guarded many secrets of the world. But it did make you wonder what exactly was going on.

Stephen had moved into the more physical part of his training - learning to fight.

You , as always, sat in the corner of the courtyard sipping tea, reading, and observing Stephen as he trained. This never made him feel put on the spot or insecure. Quite the opposite, as a lover of all things that stroked his ego, he quite liked having an audience.

You studied him, his movements, what Mordo had taught him and other masters. And just like with the magic, you trained every night with him. Sometimes Mordo even allowed you to train with the other students because he felt self-defense is good general knowledge.

One morning, you were getting ready to go to the kitchen to grab lunch with Stephen. As you started to walk out, Stephen said, “Uh, hold on, one sec.”

“Why? Something wrong?” you asked, your brows furrowing.

“No, no. Uh, how would you feel about going out to eat?” he asked.

“Sure, where were you thinking?” you wondered.

“How about dinner on the beaches of Bora Bora?” he inquired as he opened a portal and before you was the most magnificent sight you’d ever seen. Pinks and blues paint the sky as a warm, inviting beach had gentle waves lapping on the beach. The salty mist of the ocean wafted in at you through the open portal.

A table with two chairs and candles were directly in focus of you.

You turned to him in awe. “I--Are we allowed?” you wondered.

‘Yes, I actually asked permission,” he informed.

“You? Asking permission? I’m in disbelief.”

He rolled his eyes while smiling. “Would you like to join me or not?” he questioned, knowing full well you did.

“Yes,” you quietly answered.

The two of you walked through the gateway, and the smell of the ocean hit you, making you feel relaxed instantly. Stephen walked you over to the table, pulled a chair out for you, then took a seat himself.

“How exactly did you manage to pull all of this off?” you wondered.

“I called down here, after getting permission from the Ancient One, and informed them we’d like a beach side reservation for two at this time.”

“How did you know I’d say yes?”

“You’re a hopeless romantic, that’s how,” he informed with a smirk that made his eyes light up and you couldn’t argue with him.

“What did you say to the Ancient One?” you asked as a waiter came by to fill your glasses with lemon water. “How did you convince her to let us come here?”

He bobbed his head. “I promised to stop opening gateways in the library to steal from Wong. And, Kamar-Taj isn’t a prison, Y/N, we can leave anytime we like. Or you, should you desire to leave at any point. We’re allowed to leave the temple.”

“Well yes, but using your sorcery for frivolous trips like this …”

“I may have also mentioned how… trying I’ve been to you. How awful I was when you first arrived at my apartment and how I have yet to make up for all the things you’ve done for me. Knowing that we’re soulmates and that you and I haven't done anything else to upset the balance at Kamar-Taj--”

“Other than you stealing library books. I told you not to do that. I order you to give those back,” you reminded sternly.

“Right, other than my petty borrowing, we have been perfect students. She didn’t see any reason why we couldn’t steal away for an hour or two.”

“That was very kind of her, and thoughtful of you. Thank you for this.”

He made a face of dismissiveness. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Is it nothing because you’ve been here with another girl, perhaps? A repeat offender?”

“Are you trying to see if I’ve taken Christine here?” he asked, eyeing the menu.

“Her, or any one else.”

“To assuage your jealousy, no. I’ve never taken anyone here. Christine and I never left New York together, let alone go anywhere exotic. No, I’ve actually been here by myself. A little graduation present from my family.”

“Oh, that must’ve been nice. A family vacation out here.”

“Wasn’t a family vacation. They sent me alone.”

“Oh,” you said, sounding sorrowful and embarrassed.

He put down his menu. “It’s okay, Y/N. You had no way of knowing. But yes, my family and I are not close. They’re rich and after the passing of my sister, we all grew rather distant.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, it’s been many years now. Let’s not dwell on it,” he encouraged with a smile. “So, what looks good to you?”

“Uh, a lot, actually,” you said, picking up the menu.

“Same. Typically, the only tough choices I ever have are ordering from a menu,” he mused.

“Really? What about letting me stay? Was that a tough choice?”

“I didn’t choose that, you barged it,” he retorted with a bit of whimsy.

“Oh, like you couldn’t stop me or call the cops. You wanted me to stay. Why I’m not sure. I mean, I know now why you were so upset, but back then… why did you let me stay?”

He let out a small sigh, setting his menu down. “Because, for some inexplicable reason, the moment I saw you, I felt… better… whole.. I’m not entirely sure. When I was with Christine or any other woman for that matter, I never felt as if… I wanted to let them in. I never wanted them to see me weak, fail, hear about my past, my family. Any of it. When Christine tried to care for me, I resented her for it. I didn’t want her or anyone else to know how broken I was, inside and out. But for some reason, when you saw me, I looked in your eyes and sort of thought ‘everything’s going to be okay’.”

Somehow, you’d leaned close into him at the table, getting enraptured in him.

“I knew you weren’t going to think less of me, and since I was at rock bottom when you met me, I thought the only place I could go is up. For some reason, I took a leap of faith with you that I’d never done with anyone else. You seem to make me do that. Do things I wouldn’t normally do, take risks I wouldn’t normally take. Believe in things I never thought possible.”

“I had no idea I had that effect on you. I thought it was only me,” you noted in amazement.

“Well you do, and while I haven’t said officially, I do want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I hope I can return the favor one day.”

“I hope you return the favor for many days,” you breathed. The second it was out of your mouth you realized what you had said, and the implications behind it.

The more time you spent with Stephen, the more complicated things were with you and Charles. You loved both of these men, equally. Both were set to complete your soul. But you knew one day, you’d have to choose. One man for one lifetime, that’s how it worked, right?

One day, you would have to pick a man to live with, marry, spend the rest of your life with.

How do you do that when one half of your heart loves one, and the other half loves the other?

“I do too,” he said with a bit of a grin.

The two of you ordered and chit-chatted about his training. Eventually conversation flowed into your younger years of college and friends. You had told him about Jenny, a topic that really hadn’t surfaced much. You couldn’t imagine what Jenny would think of your life right now. You made a note to reach out to her to see what she was up to. She was giddy with excitement when she found out you had one soulmate, when she found out you had two, she would absolutely flip.

He told you funny stories about the OR, you told him some wild stories about your patients. The two of you seemed to be in stitches all night before returning to the temple to go back to the daily grind of training, but the rest of the day, you spent it as if you were in a honeymoon phase.

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

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#the stars made us #charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #charles xavier fic

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capricornsims · 3 years

Text

Strangetown Mystery 13: Trapped

Days turned into weeks and the imprisonment of the Smith family became known throughout Strangetown, much to their dismay. Lola and Chloe rallied alongside other townies to free Pollination Technician 9, waving picket signs about uniting the world. “ He did nothing wrong, he’s just raising his family!” Lola shouted out, and the crowd agreed, remembering PT9 as a friendly family man, and not the evil invader General Buzz Grunt was making him out to be. Despite the protests outside of the bunker, the Smith Family would continue to be entrapped in the concrete underground, unable to hear the rallying cries of their family members. Restlessness and fear hung over everyone as their fate was left to the unknown as the syndrome got worse. Johnny, especially, couldn’t stand the extended stay in the bunker, knowing the untrustworthy intentions of Buzz Grunt...but he couldn’t do anything if he was stuck under Tank’s surveillance.

To add to Johnny’s misery, his other physical alien traits began to appear, clouding his emerald green eyes over with an inky black shade. He was appalled by his appearance, unable to comprehend why his eyes decided to change at a moment like this! He knew his skin was going to get greener as he grew older, but his eyes were the only thing that made him feel human enough to live amongst his friends. Now he was considered more of a freak compared to before, vulnerable to the same prejudice his father and sisters faced. His emotions ran rampant through his brain, staring off into grimy mirrors, picturing his horrible future.

Johnny: Why does this have to happen to me now, why couldn’t I have changed after this. What if I get experimented on by mad scientists? Bullied more by Tank? What if Ripp and Ophelia run away because I’m such a freak... A freak of nature…

His insecurities manifested as the day wore on, it didn’t help that Tank commented on his changed appearance or that his family looked at him differently.

He split apart from his parents, escaping to the furthest point of the compound to hide away from the world. Unfortunately, his effort to conceal his condition was useless as footprints approached him

PT9: Son, your mother told me what happened,

Johnny: …

PT9: Why don’t you want to talk to your old man about it?

Johnny: I don’t want to talk right now!

PT9: I understand that you teenagers are going through a lot of emotions, but I’m here for you. I watched you grow up on Earth, and I know how hard it’s been for you, Johnny.

Johnny: I don’t think you understand, dad. You grew up with other aliens...but here I had to grow up with other humans and they just suck!

PT9: I know, son, but compared to them, you are stronger. Your eyes may have changed to look like mine, but you are the same young man everyone loves. Once we get out of here, you’ll be able to show the world how great you are.

Johnny: IF we get out of here! We’re stuck here because *you* think Buzz Grunt is trying to protect us! Can’t you read minds !? We are trapped here and we can’t get out!

PT9: I don’t want to argue about this, Johnny. I love you, and I want to keep all of you safe.

Johnny: We are not safe here, dad, we are prisoners! Look, if you don’t make an effort to find a way out sooner I will!

PT9: I wish you luck on your endeavor, I will keep doing my part if you don’t mind.

Johnny stormed away from the conversation, an uneasy tension forming between him and his father. His father’s tone about keeping them safe did not sit right with Johnny, his fatherly demeanor stiffened and his face grew cold when he said they were trapped. It was like his father knew what the true evil was and kept it a secret for their sake and it had to be something threatening if he entrusted his life to his enemy. Either way, he did not want to be a part of his father’s secrets and consulted the general store clerk for help.

Ripp: Hey Johnny, I see you escaped my dumb brother. Can I get you anything like a soda or a magazine?

Johnny: Freedom. I’m going to attempt an escape and I need help.

Ripp: It’s going to be hard to stock in my store but I think I can get that for you, Johnny.

Johnny: What really!?

Ripp: Yeah, we just need to make a plan first and figure out how to get past those gates without being chased by Tank.

Johnny: And once I get past Tank I will make a run straight for the nearest town, Deadtree. Ophelia said she was staying at her family’s meeting house so maybe I can hide in there until things blow over.

Johnny: This place is dangerous, I have to get away before I become some alien experiment.

Ripp: It sounds like a plan, dude, I’ll make sure you make it to Ophelia in one piece. I promise...It’s the least I can do since my father locked your family in here.

Johnny: I owe you my life, Ripp. Thanks for helping me.

The Sublevel

The sublevel lay beneath the laboratory of the bunker, shrouded in a dim red light upon entering its dark corridors. The only sound that emitted from this strange area was the whirring of the ventilators and clunking mechanical noises beyond the threshold of the massive vault doors. Every sound that was made echoed eerily off the walls and the hall seemed to grow narrower as it neared the entrance. No one knew what the doors protected, or what it concealed beyond vague notions of science experiments and surgical equipment. Whoever built this bunker had intentions to keep the contents of the vault in secrecy so why was General Buzz Grunt so eager to show PT9 what lay beyond it?

Buzz: Pollination Technician 9, you have helped immensely around the lab with the scientists, but I cannot trust them with this experiment. Therefore, I trust that you will do this experiment perfectly without error, understand?

PT9: I understand, I just hope this experiment won’t take too long. I just want to be with my family.

Buzz: Don’t worry, your family is being taken care of. After all, I am the one protecting them.

They entered the sublevel slowly, PT9 hesitated to pass the open doors but he had no choice but to follow the general into the secret laboratory. At first, he noticed the smell of chemicals, coming from the surgical room, the odd glowing of preservation tanks, and the deafening white noise of the entire area. His heart skipped a beat when he heard the vault doors slam shut, cutting him off from the rest of the bunker. He turned to gaze at Buzz Grunt and noticed the smile on his face which beckoned him closer to the small room he was motioning to. He hobbled into the cubical room and looked around for any lab equipment. There wasn’t any! He whirled around and the door slammed shut in his face, backing him against the glass walls of the cell. Buzz only continued to smile, mocking the alien behind the glass, as he locked the doors shut with the keys in his pocket.

PT9: Buzz what is this? You can’t do this?

Buzz: You know what this is, alien. I’ve been watching you for years and you managed to convince the entirety of Simnation that you’re nothing but a retiree alien looking to raise a family. Heh, but I’m not stupid, Smith. Oh no, I knew that you were plotting something the minute you stepped foot into Strangetown. I know you planted the first seed of the bizarre plant, I know you and your friends are trying to turn us, humans, into zombies for your experiments!

Buzz: You should be thankful I’m keeping Jenny and your kids away from danger, away from you!

PT9: You’re a madman Buzz! I didn’t plant any seeds or turn anyone into zombies, I’ve spent the last eighteen years of my life providing for my family and trying to fit in with you humans! I’m innocent!

Buzz: IM MAD AND YOU’RE INNOCENT!? Tell that to Glarn Curious and every unfortunate creature that you experimented on PT9! I know your secrets, I know everything you’ve done to this place! And I’m saving Simnation by getting rid of you!

PT9: I haven’t done anything!

Buzz: We are done here Pollination Technician 9. I will take care of Jenny and your dumb kids. At least now they will have a bright future ahead of them. For now, I will hand you over to my colleagues…

PT9: No...not them! You said you would protect me and my family! Buzz please, I have another one on the way at least wait until I can see them!

Dude in Black 1: It’s a pleasure doing business with you, General, we will take this alien off your hands now.

Dude in Black 2: We have already begun preparations to send PT9 to Sixam, Strangetown is safe thanks to you.

Buzz: I am glad that I was able to keep Simnation safe from yet another threat. Thankyou for your work agents.

PT9: Liars! All of you are liars!

#strangetown #strangetown mystery #pt9 smith #johnny smith #Ripp Grunt #buzz grunt

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prrplwtch · 4 years

Note

maybe a hc for an oblivious mc?? the brothers trying to make a pass at her and mc just doesn't get it

Thanks for the ask nonny 💜 Sorry it took me a while to reply.

So here we go - each of the brothers x oblivious MC. Also, apologies, I got carried away with Satan and Asmo’s stories.

Lucifer

Lucifer has always considered himself to be quite sleek when it came to romantic endeavors, but, somehow, when it came to MC it seemed that either his charm did not quite work or that she was the densest being to ever walk all the realms.

When Lucifer had try asking her to go to one of Diablo’s balls with him, she simply replied, “But aren’t we already all going together?”

When he took her out to resturante six for, what in his mind was a nice romantic evening, she said, “It’s so nice to be able to have evenings like this with a friend”.

And, to add insult to injury, one day he had Simeon approach him and say, with that know-it-all smile of his, that MC was quite upset. As it turned out she confessed to the angel that she really liked Lucifer, but she did not think that he felt the same.

After that conversation Lucifer sought out MC and made it abundantly clear to her that he liked her.

“Whoa,” MC said, when he broke off their kiss, “I had no idea you felt this way about me”.

Lucifer had to physically restrain himself from facepalming. How did I end up falling in love with this human, of all beings?

Mammon

Deep down Mammon knows that he is not very good at showing that he is into someone, so he understands that he does not really have any grounds to be particularly upset that MC does not seem to pick up on his affections.

Still, it hurts when he finally works up the courage to put his arm around MC’s shoulders as they are watching a movie, and she gets up to go get a glass of water.

And it hurts even more when he tells her one day that being around her feels better than having money to buy all the things he wants, and she responds with, “I’m glad we are such great friends”.

Mammon gets sulky - it’s hard for him to work up the courage to show his true feelings and, also, a large part of him feels that he does not deserve her. Maybe I am actually the scum my brothers say that I am.

However, when one day MC asks him why he is so sad, he does not want to admit to anything. Then, a moment later, a part of him wants to kill Beel - and another part wants to hug him - when his brother tells MC, “Mammon is sad because he likes you.”

He completely forgets that Beel is even in the room when MC turns to him and says, “I also really like you. I wish you had told me sooner”. Mammon does not think he’s ever been so happy.

Leviathan

Levi is rather shy when it comes to communicating his feelings, but that does not mean he does not try. Indirectly.

I mean, how could MC not pick up on the fact that he is very much in love with her when he suggests that the two of them play a dating simulator game, where the people playing will remain inside the game until they confess their love to each other for real. He feels kind of hurt, when MC refuses the game by saying, “Sounds cool, but I’m more of a fantasy RPG kinda girl. Maybe some other time”.

He gets even sadder when, just a few days after he and MC watch a certain anime where the main character confesses his love for the girl by making her do a scavenger hunt in a video game, he sets up a similar one in one of his video games, but MC refuses to play it, saying that she has a lot of work to do for the next school day.

Levi feels quite sad about the situation, although he is not surprised. He knows he should not have gotten his hopes up - after all who would ever love an otaku like him? Definitely not someone as precious as MC.

He is all the more surprised when one day MC comes to his room and says that she wants to talk. “I just needed to get this off my chest,” she tells him, “I just want you to know that I really like you...even if you don’t feel the same.”

Levi is incredulous and at first thinks that one of her brothers put her up to it - but when she assures him that she is being honest, he cannot help, but smile like a fool. Turns out life can be even better than anime, sometimes.

Satan

Satan does not really has much experience in romantic affairs - and to an extent he begins to regret it when he realizes just how difficult it is to communicate his true feelings to MC.

In order to properly prepare, he reads a lot of books about love and also watches quite a bit of dramas. From them, he seems to be able to come up with a perfect date. He decides to invite MC to an amazing bakery in the Devildom, and then take her on a scenic walk to a beautiful garden. MC agrees, and everything seems to be going according to plan until, as they are sitting together in the garden and Satan is about to make his feelings known, MC turns to him and says, “I am so lucky to be able to enjoy such an amazing afternoon with my dear friend”.

Though sad, he did not give up then - and dived further into researching ways in which he could make his feelings known. As he was watching one of the love dramas he heard one character tell their love interest that without them, their life would be as cold and dark as winter night without stars. He thought that was the perfect way to confess his feelings, so on one occasion, when he and MC were spending time together he told her just that. “Ah, I feel that same. What is life without friends, after all?” was her response.

Satan was getting frustrated and sad - he was convinced now that MC must have not liked him back - there was no way anyone would be so oblivious. Apparently, his foul mood showed at dinner, as MC turned to him and said, “Satan, you look quite unhappy - is everything ok?”

“Satan is sad because he’d much rather be flipping something - or dare I say someone - else around rather than the pages of his book tonight,” Asmo interferes before Satan has a chance to answer. He feels hot blush on his cheeks, and he wants to strangle Asmo.

“Oh...” MC says, “Do you like someone?”

“Of course he does,” Asmo says, somehow managing to avoid the plate that Satan threw at him, “I’ll even give you three hints - it’s someone cute, someone human, and someone who lives in our house.”

The blush that spreads across MC’s cheeks is red hot, and Satan freezes, not knowing what to do.

“Now then, lovebirds, why don’t I give you some privacy?” Asmo says as he leaves the room.

Satan cannot bring himself to look at MC, but she comes up to him and stands right in front of him, and there is nowhere else to look. “Was it true what Asmo said?” she says.

“Yes,” Satan breathes out and feels so at ease having finally parted with the secret. That is until he remembers the “flip around” part, and hastily says, “No. Ah wait...Yes, actually, I do really like you.”

The way MC beams at him warms his heart. “I like you too,” she says, then suddenly there is a shy look on her face. “Although would you mind if we take the whole entire “flip around thing” slower,” she whispers, “I don’t think I am quite ready yet.”

Satan does not know if he wants to kill or thank Asmo.

Asmodeus

Asmo is an expert when it comes to all things related to the matters of love and lust, and that is why he finds himself quite perplexed when it turns out to be a little difficult to get MC to understand his feelings.

First, Asmo decides to try his trusted and true seduction method. So he invites MC to his room, and when she arrives, all he is wearing is a quite revealing lingerie. MC stops in the doorway when she sees him, and Asmo is glad - looks like it is having a desired effect. “Oh, is that the cute nightgown you wanted to show me?” MC asks him as she proceeds into the room, “That’s so cool - I don’t think I’ve ever seen material like that in the human world. You simply must show me where you bought it.” Somehow instead of having night of passion, Asmo finds himself having a night full of fashion advice and discussions.

Deciding that his more subtle moves probably won’t work, Asmo thinks that he needs to be direct and confess his feelings to MC. So, when they are spending time together, he tells her, “I love you”. His heart sings when MC seems to reciprocate his feelings and replies, “I love you too,” and sinks when she adds, “I’m so glad that I had a chance to meet a friend like you”.

Asmo finds himself very sad - it’s the first time he feels this way about someone, and she does not seem to love him back. A part of him knows why - being am avatar of lust, he is, no doubt, hard to love. Why did I ever think I deserve to be loved by someone like her? Sadness makes Asmo do the thing that he usually does when he is upset - try to see how many one-night stands can cure his broken heart.

One night, when he is stumbling back from the club, feeling surprisingly tired and empty, he stumbles upon MC in the kitchen of House of Lamentation. He notices that she looks at him sadly as he greets her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks her, “Did someone hurt you?”

“It’s nothing,” MC says, but he comes closer to her, and takes her face in his hands. She takes a deep breath, “It may be unfair of me to lay all of this on you, but I like you - like really really like you. And it’s hard for me to see you with others...” Her voice is no louder than a whisper.

Asmo’s heart fills with warmth that slowly spreads through his body.

“I understand that was not fair of me to say,” MC continues not looking at him, “Please forgive me for ever bringing this up.”

Asmo gently lifts her chin, then looks into her eyes. There is hurt there - but also love, and his whole body feels light - no one had ever looked at him like that.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he says, “I love you - I just did not know you felt the same way.”

MC’s eyes are wide, and Asmo could not help himself, but smile - humans can be so silly some times.

“And if you want to be with me,” he says, as he draws her in for an embrace, “I will only be with you”.

When MC buries her face in his chest, Asmo feels as though he died and went to Celestial realm.

Beelzebub

Beel is not very good when it comes to communicating his feelings so he seeks advice of his brothers on what to do. Somehow his brothers end up being slip into two camps, giving him the opposite kinds of advice - the first one is to be direct and tell MC about his feelings, and the second one is to be suggestive without expressly stating his feelings.

So Beel, being himself, decides to try the direct approach first. During one of the times that he and MC are cooking in the kitchen together he simply turns to her and says, “I love you”. He is happy at how easy it was and even happier when MC smiles brightly at him. However, his happiness quickly dies, when she responds, “You are my best friend, Beel, I love you too”.

After the direct approach fails, he has to resort to the second one. Beel is not quite sure about how to be “suggestive without being direct,” so Asmo coaches him on what to say. Beel is not sure if Asmo’s suggestion is the best way to go, but his brother insists that he is an avatar of lust - and that thus Beel should trust him.

So Beel cooks a romantic dinner for MC, which they end up eating in his room. Feeling blush rise in his cheeks, as the time approaches for him to try those “sleek lines”, Beel is slightly panicked. But they have already finished eating, and now is the time!

“You-you know,” Beel says, trying to get himself to stop blushing, “There is something else I wanted to taste tonight - that is if you don’t mind?”

“Oh,” MC asks “Do you have some sweets hidden in the room, Beel? Is it those chocolates you gave me the other day. Ah, I really hope it’s those chocolates”.

Needless to say, Beel had no heart to tell her that it was not sweets he was talking about. He was feeling quite sad - he really liked MC, but it was so hard to let his feelings known. He was all out of approaches, and seeing how his brothers did not seem to have anything else useful to say, he considered asking advice from Simeon.

However, before he was able to leave the room, Belphie walked through the door. “She likes you too,” Belphie told him, as he handed him a piece of paper “Thank me later”.

The note was in Beel’s handwriting, which Belphie had gotten really good at imitating through the years, and laid out Beel’s feelings for MC. The note ended with asking MC to go on a date with him if she felt the same way.

“Flip it,” Belphie told him, and when Beel did he saw a few words, scribbled in MC’s handwriting, accepting the invitation.

Beel could feel his heart fill with joy and happiness - and even the ever persistent feeling of hunger was gone, at least for now. She liked him back.

Belphegor

Belphie has never been good when it came to communicating his feelings, so it was little surprise when it was clear that MC did not understand that he was falling for her.

When he had learned about the human world’s Valentine’s day, he decided to ask her to spend the whole day with him. Surely, she will know what I mean. To his surprise, MC agreed quite easily. As they were spending time together on Valentine’s day mostly lounging around and eating candies, Belphie thought that it was a good time to make the next move. But, before he was able to do so, MC said, “I’m so grateful to be able to spend the day with my best friend”. Needless to say, Belphie did not confess to her that day.

He decided that maybe he needed to be more bold, and next time they were spending time in the attic room asked MC to come to the bed with him. To his surprise, she agreed. “I could use a nap”.

When they settled into the bed with MC being the little spoon, Belphie thought about what he was going to say - how to make it abundantly clear to her that he liked her, when MC said, “Napping with friends is the best - it’s too bad I have never done that before”.

Belphie felt frustrated - but at the same time seeing MC cuddling sleepily in his arms, he could not feel too mad. After all, does he really need her to understand his feelings right away if she is so soft, and warm, and smiling, and sleeping peacefully in his arms?

Just Belphie was drifting off to sleep, he whispered quietly, “I love you.” To his greatest surprise he heard MC’s respond, “I love you too”. Maybe she did understand more than she let on.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Ghosts’ Journey: (Part 4) Wedding Preparations

Thank you for Reading.

You shake the rain out of your long dark hair and step back inside the Takamagahara NightClub. Despite the dire circumstances outside, your heart is light. That army outside looked like every single Executive board member of Hydra coming out to greet your new betrothed Chime Gen even though they didn’t realize you were engaged yet. Divine confirmation of the rightness of your choices had come down like a shower of balloons and confetti.

The King General would show up to a glorious wedding, expecting to witness a beautiful slaughter of a virgin bride in white. Only to be met by the entire force of Hydra, the Ace Commissioners of Cassell. He would bang the woodblock to summon Ruri Kazama only to experience the unexpected twist of the groom turning on him. Even though the woodblock sound was strong, Chime confirmed something with his story.

The call from his brother Chisei could break its spell. When Chisei called Chime’s name, it woke him up. Now it was up to you to spend every waking moment to worm your way as deep into his heart as you could. When the woodblock sound came, he would look at you or hear your voice and wake. Then he would turn on King General.

Part of you scolded yourself, saying this was a bit manipulative. But Chime was already manipulated and you had no intention of leaving him to die or leaving him at all. This was not the most romantic of tales. It was dark, gruesome, and bloody. You had some feelings for each other but your marriage was arranged. And the arrangement was for the express purpose to kill a man. The pink and dreamy days would come later. You just had to make it through the wedding day.

As you made your way across the empty dance floor, you were approached by Whale in his typical glorious Aquamarine and one of his clients. You immediately approach him and bow deeply. “Mr. Whale!”

Mr. Whale looked at you over his round glasses. He looked nervous. Of course, he was. The full force of the Yakuza was right at his doorstep!

“I know this is a bad time, but this cannot wait! I need to rent the entire club as soon as possible!” You feel like you have stopped by to ask for the crown of the Queen of England. It was a stupid impossible request but it was what you needed. You were fully prepared to try to convince him. After all, you were the Main Character.

The whites of Whale’s eyes shook in his face. “This is the worst possible time!” His voice trembled. His whale tattoo on his bald head seemed like it was swimming in an ocean of sweat. “I don’t have time to talk about business!”

“I do.” The client walked up and immediately you see Whale cringe. This was no client. She was wearing a gray suit and black high heels, and the diamond pendant in her right ear danced in the light.

The store manager Whale stood respectfully behind her, holding her kunai bag, trench coat and rain gear. She looked over at you impatiently. “Speak up honey, I don’t have all day.”

You clear your throat. “Okay… I’m getting married and I need to rent the whole club as soon as possible.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised. “The whole club…?”

“Yes, I'm not worried about the cost. I’m only worried about the time. When is your soonest opening?” Your heart is beating. A popular and expensive club like this had to be millions of dollars to rent out for a wedding. Not to mention the fact that it was packed every single night.

“How does 24 hours sound?” The woman smiled.

“I…” She didn’t ask you any questions. There was no mention of a deposit or a cover charge. “Well, yes that would be…” You laugh breathlessly. “That would be fantastic! I should get you the preparations…”

“We have packages. In 24 hours, I’ll let you have the most luxurious royalty package. It will be a good advertisement for the business. Don’t worry about anything! Just show up with a smile!”

She leaves you speechless. “You have wedding packages? I… why wou- But-...” You scratch your head. “Okay… Are they just going to do everything?”

“Well…” She looks you up and down. “You don't look like you have any money or any connections. So… we’ll just handle everything. We already have all the contacts for the necessary vendors and your measurements.”

“We?”

“Yes, I own the place. Do you have any more questions? I kind of need to handle the situation outside.”

“Oh! You own it! I thought Whale…” You trail off as you try to look at Whale who is trying his hardest to be inconspicuous. “Very well… I’ll… leave it to you!” You give a mock salute but you’re shaking. How could it be this easy? They would handle everything?!

Without another word, she steps around you, walking quickly outside. This woman must have Yakuza ties. She was so confident going out to meet that army of violent hooligans!

You dash off to find Chime Gen, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. You open the room but he’s not inside. “Chime?!”

“Give me a few minutes.” His soft shy voice comes from the bath house.

“Oh… take your time.” You walk over to the sliding door. His shadow was behind it. He seemed to be getting dressed. He had a supple figure. Like a dancer.

“I thought maybe I should clean myself up a little before going upstairs.” His words sounded like a little ghost behind a curtain.

“Ok… There’s some trouble outside.”

“I’m sorry. This… is trouble for you.”

You lean your hands against the door. “Trouble?”

“You’re marrying me to get back at the King General. Because I was unable to kill him.”

“If you killed him, I would have married you.”

“You would have married Ruri Kazama.” came the weary voice.

“That’s true. If you had killed him, he wouldn’t have used the wood block on you.” You say sadly. “Do you think I’m a stupid girl?”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. I just don’t understand your feelings.”

“Do you think I’m stupid for choosing to marry you?”

The door opens. He was wearing a pair of suit pants and a shirt that wasn’t buttoned yet, likely one of the waiter’s shirts. Even though he said he was weaker, and he was no Caesar Gattuso in the musculature department, he was light on your eyes. He presented a soft, non-threatening figure. Like a friend. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” He said.

You smile again. “Life is full of choices. And the one I’m facing now is… Which is better? Chime with his hair up? Or down? Can you show me?”

Chime’s face grew a bit redder.

“Go on. This is important.” You try to be as serious and sincere as possible.

Chime gathered up his hair in one hand and raised it in a ponytail while you watched. You liked the slope of his shoulders. While it wasn’t the square shape of Caesar or Chance, it wasn’t bad either. “I think I like hair up.” With his hands in his hair, he wouldn’t be able to stop you from stealing a kiss, but you hold back even though his lips called you. Instead, you run your fingers up his ribs!

“Ah!” He flinches away from you, covering himself with his arms.

You burst out laughing. “You fell for that one easy.”

He laughs, a single shy breath.

“Anyway, I came down here to let you know that the wedding is tomorrow night. We have 24 hours to be loving idiots. So let’s not blow our cover with apologies for our situation, okay?” You help him button his shirt. “We’re in love. We’re excited!” You pat his cheek. “You’re really cute when you smile.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes!” You tell him with wide eyes. “Anyway, we have to inform everyone of our decision. Wait for me while I get dolled up too.”

You meet him next to the elevator. He looked like a normal waiter. He looked so exhausted. You couldn’t blame him. There really was nothing remarkable about him. It was amazing what a little makeup and pure swagger could do to a man’s appearance. But still you look him up and down and give him an okay sign with a wink. Just because he wasn’t Ruri Kazama doesn’t mean confidence couldn’t be built, right?

“So should we hold hands or not? What do you think?” You ask.

Again, that slight splash of color on his face.

“Yes or no. Either way it has to be consistent.”

“Let’s not. Since we’re not used to it.” He said.

You take out a clamshell mirror from your purse and check your face one more time. “Fair enough.” You smile up at him, snapping it shut. “Alright. Let’s do this. Screw King General. We’re in love!”

When you stepped out of the elevator on the first floor, the boys were in a discussion about the night's events. Your cover was blown. You wouldn’t be able to hide any more. You were about to approach but Chime catches your arm and shakes his head. He wants to listen quietly.

Caesar played with a ring of car keys: "Is this her way of suggesting that we should run away?"

"I think she's asking us to choose for ourselves. Either to leave here or stay and face Gen Chisei tomorrow night." Chu Zihang said, "Whoever her boss is, her job seems to be limited to sheltering us, and the decision of how to act is up to us."

Chisei is coming tomorrow? Did the invitations already go out? How did she know you were even getting married to Chime? This questions pop up in your head like bubbles but you stay quiet.

"It took tens of billions of euros of debt credit to get a 24-hour buffer, and she's leaving it up to us to decide?" Caesar said.

"Until now, what she has done has been beneficial to us, although it is not clear what her ultimate goal is." Chu Zihang said.

They must be talking about the Club owner. Chu Zihang’s question was wise. She was going to be throwing a wedding worth millions of dollars for you for free and you didn’t have to do anything. So what was she getting out of it?

"What will happen if we stay and face Chisei Gen? We don't have any conflict with him. We can forgive him for leaving us inside the Japanese Trench. Is he going to drive us to extinction?" Caesar said, "At most, he will force us to leave Japan."

"Neither of us wants the White King to be resurrected, so we are not fundamentally hostile. But in the matter of Chime Gen, we are again in conflict." Chu Zihang said, "Until now Chime Gen has been our ally, and only through him can we find the King General and figure out what he is planning. If we hand over Chime to the Hydra Clan, first of all, we can't guarantee his life, and secondly it means we lose our last bargaining chip in Japan and we are out of this war."

"Until today no one has been able to get me out, no matter which bureau." Caesar said, lifting his chin.

“If we don't want to escape and we don't want to get out, then the only way left is to convince Chisei and convince him to work with his brother against the King General. I have a feeling that the King will be even more terrifying than the White King in the Well of Bones."

"There is absolutely no trust between the brothers, and in Chime Gen’s state, he is almost like a puppet. He has been in his bedroom for almost 20 hours without eating or drinking. His fighting spirit collapsed and his whole being collapsed with it. I really don't know how do deal with the King and his clapper noise." Caesar said, "To give such a Chime to the Hydra is the same as sending him to the gallows. The Hydra will not believe that it was the King General who channeled the evil spirits in his body, and even if they did, they would kill the guy with the evil spirits hidden in his body."

"We can't hand over Chime to Hydra." Lu Mingfei suddenly said.

"What is your reason?" Chu Zihang asked.

"I always have a feeling. I can’t put my finger on it, that everything we see now is the surface, and that the real danger is still hidden behind the curtain. The King will be far more complicated than we thought, but the only one who can deal with the King will be Chime Gen. Compared to his brother, the Tortoise is a fool." Lu Mingfei hesitantly said, "He is indeed very strong, but very stupid.”

Chu Zihang pondered for a moment and nodded, "It's strange, I thought so too. I also think that King General is planning something far more than we can imagine. There is something extremely scary in it, but I can't think what that something is."

"Then it's better for me to convince my brother." Chime finally spoke up next to you. He was holding your arm but it was hard to say who was supporting whom. Chime was shaking underneath your hand and you tighten your grip slightly in case he might faint.

“Did you hear everything we said?" Caesar raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t wanted to hide anything from Chime. His eyes lower to you and you just smile and nod. He had the floor!

"With all the commotion outside, how could I not hear it?" Chime smiled without saying more, "Although I'm no different from a cripple now, I think I can still do you guys a favor. Let me go convince my brother."

"You also think that the King will have a bigger plot that has not been revealed?"

"I'm sure. The King General is the kind of man who is like an iceberg. The volume of the iceberg exposed above the water is only one tenth. The vast majority of it is hidden underwater, and so the King will be. To kill the King we will have to be ten times more prepared, taking all the possibilities into account. I did not tell you that I planned to kill the King in the air at Tokyo Tower. Not that I suspected any of you. I was just afraid of leaks. This plan only ever existed in my head, I didn’t even write it down. I don't think the King can always pry into my head." Chime said softly, peering down at you. His smile held a deep affectionate maturity for a moment before it disappeared. "But I still failed, I thought I knew the King General well enough, but I still knew only the parts of him that were exposed to the outside world."

"With a simple brain like your brother's, it's true that he's no match for the King General." Caesar massaged his forehead.

"I have a vague feeling that something dangerous is coming." Chime’s eyes were filled with trepidation, as if the evil spirits had seen him and left their mark on his body, "The whole thing is different from what my brother thought. The King will never aim for the perfect evolutionary medicine, nor is he a god. He is the kind of person who wants to eat everything, no matter how many people compete with him, no matter how many people are his enemies. He wants to become the highest level of the food chain. How does evolving into a pure-blooded dragon type make him the highest level of the food chain? You can kill a Dragon King, and you have an opportunity to kill the evolved King General."

A voice cuts through the chatter, clear and cold like a winter wind. It bites at the nape of your neck and makes you shiver and you immediately turn. "But the Hydra will not believe that. You simply have no evidence to support such speculation." The speaker was standing next to the bar, leaning on it with a bottle of vodka. The light played off her clear golden hair and sparkled in her emotionless blue eyes. But her fairy-like figure, those curves. It was like staring at a ghost from your past. Your mind rejects her appearance. It can’t be her. It just looked like her. "Just this night, they cut open the Well of Bones, and all the dragon subspecies inside entered the artificial underground lake full of a mixture of five thousand tons of mercury and water. If the embryo of the White King really hatched in the Well of Bones, then it would also have also been fatally damaged. I think by this time your brother is already celebrating for foiling the King General's plot."

The more she spoke the more she sounded like her. Your heart was starting to pound. But this person wasn’t reacting to you at all. It looked like her. Sounded like her. But she acted like she didn’t know you.

"How do you know?" Caesar was taken aback.

"I just came from over there. The so-called Well of Bones is actually an underground river called the Red Devil River, which is directly connected to the volcanic lava belt, where water and fire mix to form a crimson river of hot water." This woman said, "Izanagi blocked the sacred skeleton in that place, in fact, to provide it with enough nutrients to keep it alive. The history recorded by the eight Hydra families glorified Izanagi, and from the beginning he could not afford to destroy the sacred skeleton that claimed to help humans evolve into pure-blooded dragons, and the White King used human greed to protect itself. In the end, The Well of Bones not only did not become a prison to imprison the sacred skeleton, but also became a hotbed for the gods to hatch."

“This is the real purpose of your visit to Japan, right?" Chu Zihang asked, "Did the principal arrange it?"

"Yes, Fingel and I entered Japan in the same group. A long time ago the principal had already started to worry about Japan, and exploring the Japanese Trench also stemmed from this worry. But we didn't guess that the change would happen so quickly, so originally my job was just to collect information and count it as my internship."

"The information you gathered was top secret, wasn't it?" Caesar was dumbfounded.

"I have used various means; I have infiltrated the homes of Genji Heavy Industries, shrines, and various family heads, and sometimes I have used threats and bribes. One of the shrine's priests seems to have an extraordinary preference for young-looking women. Thanks to his twisted mind, I could use my strengths in this area to obtain a lot of information from him."

You let go of Chime’s arm and take a step forward. It wasn’t until you heard this last part that the last piece clicked in place. When you took that single step toward her, however, she turned to you and her gaze was like a sharp crack of lightning that had struck between you and her and you halt. She gives a slight shake of her head.

It was her! It was Renata! She was acting like she didn’t know you. She was acting like she was some other person on purpose. But she was Renata. It was Renata! You hold your hands behind your back to hide the fact that you were pinching your bones again to stem the white water rush of emotions.

“Oh… Zero, this is MC. MC, Zero.” Caesar’s eyes were flicking between you two.

“I… um… Nice to meet you.” You say. The thoughts pile up behind your lips. Oh God. Renata. Where were you? Why didn’t you call me? Are you alright? How did you survive? I missed you so much. There’s so much I want to tell you.

“We can save the introductions for later.” Renata was cool. You remember your training at Black Swan. Such emotional responses were serious infractions there and, for some reason, they were not right here. Renata was always so smart. She was the number two in the orphanage, surpassed only by Z. You admired her a lot. She was one of the few people who could pull the wool over your eyes thoroughly.

It took a second to go back to that old place. Let the light fade from your eyes. Lose all feelings in your mind and do not react to anything. But you do find that old track and fall into it. Without a word you take that step back to Chime.

But your hand still ached.

#Dragon Raja

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