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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.6

it leaves me cold

Chapter Five

This is the sixth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Penelope ambushed Spencer in his apartment, proved herself the best friend ever, and finally got him some psychiatric help.

In This Chapter: Aaron — furiously angry at the team and convinced Spencer wants nothing to do with him — finally has enough and goes to visit him. Even Penelope can't prepare him for what he'll find.

TW: same as usual — except this time the depictions of depression are representative of a major depressive episode. Spencer requires help with bathing/washing/personal care.

Word Count: 4.7k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

I can't exactly describe how I feel, but it's not quite right. And it leaves me cold. — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Love of the Last Tycoon

Aaron has spent the last three weeks in shock, floating through the days absently as he goes through the motions of his daily routines. Guilt has been throbbing through his veins with each painful heartbeat, only exacerbated when every one of his attempts to reach out to Spencer is rebuffed. He can’t exactly blame him, though: he hasn’t let anyone down this badly since Haley’s death, the least he deserves is the silent treatment.

It doesn’t matter that objectively he knows his life has been far too hectic to notice something Spencer was trying so hard to conceal, because when he runs over every interaction they’d had in his head, he can’t believe he missed it. Spencer’s misery was staring him right in the face and he was too blinded, too self-absorbed in his own problems to help the man his heart won’t shut up about, no matter how hard he tries to convince himself of its impropriety.

Penelope had taken yesterday off to help Spencer with a few things, and Aaron couldn’t have been quicker to grant her the leave. If Spencer doesn’t want him around, he can at least rest easy with the knowledge that he was allowing someone to help him. And there isn’t anybody better at caring for other people than Penelope Garcia. That doesn’t help much, though. Not when he spends every moment she’s gone wishing he was the one looking after him, fulfilling his every need and want.

Honestly, he’s just glad they don’t have a case on at the moment. For one, he has a mountain of paperwork he needs to catch up on — including finding Spencer’s replacement, a necessary task no matter how painful — but he also knows he’d not be much use in catching America’s Most Wanted in this mindset.

He looks up from his blurred-over gaze at the paperwork on his desk when Dave taps on the doorframe. “Got a second?” he asks, already making his way into the room.

Aaron sits back in his chair, running a hand across his face as he takes in Dave’s concerned expression. He’s been avoiding him the past few weeks — he’s been avoiding everyone the past few weeks: he works with profilers who are paid to figure out what’s going on in people’s heads and he knows he’ll be read like a book if he lets himself get close enough. Not to mention his desire to lay blame at the feet of his co-workers. As far as he’s concerned, they should all be consumed with guilt even stronger than that which is eating away at him; they all let Spencer down, and emotional turmoil is a small price to pay for such a heinous crime.

“How’s the hunt for a new team member going?” Dave asks, and Aaron resents his easy, honest body language as he sits with his knees apart and shoulders relaxed and open. It’s alright for some, he supposes.

He sighs and reaches for the pile of applications to his right, thumbing through them half-heartedly. “A lot of people want to join the BAU,” he says, after a moment of reaching for something to say.

“Well,” Dave raises an eyebrow as a knowing smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, “have you even started looking through those?”

Aaron looks up at him from under his dark eyebrows, leveling him with a steely gaze. He leans back in his chair again a few seconds later, clasping his hands in front of him. “What do you want, Dave?”

He sighs at that, looking down for a moment before meeting Aaron’s eyes with a determined look of his own. “You’ve been avoiding the entire team since Spencer left,” he says frankly, “and as private as you try to be, Aaron, I know you. I know how you feel about him. You’re torturing yourself.”

“Well, maybe I deserve that torture,” he bites back angrily, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop them. “I failed, Dave, we all did. And sometimes I think I’m the only one who actually cares about that. I know everyone’s sad Spencer’s gone, but how can all of you feel that way and not hate yourself for contributing to the loss of this unit’s best asset, both personally and professionally?”

Dave looks puzzled at that. “Spencer left of his own accord, Aaron. That’s got nothing to do with the rest of this team.”

Rage — furious, agonising rage — sparks in his chest and he closes his eyes for a moment as he pleads with himself to keep his cool. It’s not his place to share with the rest of the team why Spencer left, but he’s also furious that Dave can apparently use his profiling skills to work out he’s half in love with Spencer, but not apply them enough to realise how much pain their youngest team member was in.

“I suggest you think about the last year long and hard,” Aaron murmurs, low and bitter, and he knows he sounds passive-aggressive but he doesn’t care. He’s too blinded with fury at himself and the rest of this team to care about professionalism right now. “Maybe you’ll understand, then.”

He doesn’t watch Dave leave the room.

Penelope comes into his office that evening, dropping off files he had asked for.

“Come and sit down, Garcia.” He’s exhausted and human contact is not what he really wants right now, but Penelope has information about Spencer he longs to hear. Burying himself in his paperwork again can wait a few minutes.

“Sir?” She looks a little puzzled as she obeys and takes a seat across from him, her bright yellow dress bringing a little colour to his day.

“How’s Spencer doing?” he asks, bone-weary tiredness seeping into his voice as he meets her gaze.

She casts her eyes downwards, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she considers how to answer the question. “I took him to the doctor yesterday,” she starts carefully, “but he’s hurt. And miserable. He thinks we all hate him, that we’ve excluded him on purpose… he was telling me how he’s been feeling for the past year and it broke my heart. Sir, I’m only being this honest with you because I know you’re aware of Spencer’s mental state, but the others aren’t. And it’s not our place to say.”

“I agree,” he reassures her, nodding. “I’m glad he has you, Garcia. You’re a good friend.”

She pauses for a moment, but she must see something in his face because she eventually musters the courage to say what’s really on her mind. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but Spencer… he needs you, Hotch. I know that he’s been over to see you and Jack a few times and from what I hear that’s the only thing that kept him going for those last few months working here.”

“Garcia, he’s not answering my calls or texts,” he sighs, wishing with every bone in his body that Spencer really does need him the way Penelope says he does; the way Aaron needs him, but he thinks there’s probably a better chance of the sky falling in. “I’ve got the message. He definitely doesn’t need me, I can promise you that.”

“Sir, I know you’re my boss,” she says evenly, averting her eyes slightly, her tell that she’s trying to stay calm, “but you’re being really stupid right now. Spencer is in a lot of pain, I’ve seen it first hand this last week, and I’m in a much better position to say what he needs than you. Communication is overwhelming and exhausting for him, and he’s feeling guilty about leaving you and me. I feel as guilty about all of this as you do, but you can’t let your emotions dictate how you act right now. You’ll only end up hurting him further. If you turn up at his place, I can promise you he will let you in.”

She takes a breath in before meeting his relaxed, open gaze. “I love you both very much, but you are both being idiots,” she huffs before levelling him with a stern glare and storming back to her own office.

With Penelope vacating the room, Aaron is left alone with his head reeling. He knows how close Penelope and Spencer are and he can’t think of a reason for her to lie, especially with Spencer being in such a fragile state, but he simply can’t wrap his head around the possibility of what she’s saying being the truth. He’s so desperate not to get his hopes up; he isn’t sure he can take another heartbreak so soon after losing Haley.

When he turns his phone over, he sees two messages from Penelope: He took today off to recover from yesterday. He’ll be home. Under the files she’s left in his office is a key and a pretty, pink piece of note paper with the code to Spencer’s building printed in dark purple gel pen.

🌧

Aaron can’t believe he’s doing this. He’d spent most of the drive over convincing himself he wasn’t — he absolutely was not — going to use the key Penelope had slid into his office without him noticing. She wasn’t far from begging him when she walked into his office and that’s the only reason he even considered it in the first place. But that innocuous ‘considering’ had landed him here, standing outside Spencer’s apartment, trying to work the courage up to actually go inside.

God, there are so many reasons not to do this. It feels wrong to even be thinking about someone other than his dead ex-wife, but he also knows she’d want him to be happy, and when he really thinks about it those sparks of emotion he wasn’t able to put his finger on were happening long before Haley passed.

“Spencer is in a lot of pain.” Penelope’s desperate words to him earlier wouldn’t stop rattling around his head. Knowing what his heart is longing for now, and knowing what Haley would have wanted for him and Jack, he was finally launched into action.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. That’s true. But he is also absolutely going to do it. He slides his key into the lock on the front door of Spencer’s apartment and pushes it open gently. The living room is dark but tidy; Penelope had told him she was helping him around the house, and he walks in just enough to close the door behind him, its soft click the only sound to be heard.

Gingerly, he makes his way through the lounge and kitchen, heading towards the bedrooms at the back. Two of the doors are open, one obviously the bathroom, the other seeming to be an office of sorts, but one of them is closed. There isn’t any light coming from under the door despite it only being 7, and if he didn’t know better he’d assume nobody’s home.

He does know better though, and not just because of Penelope’s earlier text. He knows Spencer is fighting depression, and he knows he’ll be exhausted both physically and mentally from his day yesterday. That only leaves two options: Spencer is laying completely silently in the dark, or he’s asleep. Considering the time of day, Aaron isn’t sure which of those is better.

“Spencer?” he calls quietly as he pushes the door to his bedroom open. There’s a Spencer-shaped lump hidden under the blankets, but he isn’t moving, so he flicks the hallway light on before making his way towards the bed. The light casts a pretty shadow across Spencer’s face, but Aaron is more focused on the tear tracks staining his cheekbones. “Hey, Spencer?” He touches his arm gently, rubbing a little when he doesn’t flinch. Relief flashes across his chest as soon as he starts to move.

“Aaron?” he asks sleepily, sounding confused. He doesn’t spring upright though, simply burying deeper under what he suspects are very comfortable, warm blankets.

“How are you feeling?” He tries to keep his voice soft and careful, but he can hear the naked, unadulterated fearful concern he feels for Spencer bleeding into his words.

“Tired,” Spencer sighs, and as soon as he admits it, a fresh tear drops from his eye straight to the pillow. “Sad.” Aaron watches as he blinks to try and stop any more tears from betraying how he feels, but it just makes things worse. His heart aches as he watches Spencer curl further into himself as he tries to fight the emotions welling up inside him.

“Hey,” he says gently, “it’s okay.” He reaches out to tenderly touch Spencer's cheek, fingers so light he barely makes contact. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he honestly doesn’t care. Everything inside of him is screaming to take care of the man lying in bed as he falls apart. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

Surprisingly, that actually seems to work. Spencer relaxes slightly and lets the tears fall, uninhibited. The defeated expression on his face still eats Aaron up inside, but the pain is mixed with relief that Penelope might actually have been right. Maybe Spencer does need him. As much as it kills him that Spencer’s even in this position to begin with, he’d much rather he be going through the darkness with him at his side than alone; he’d much rather actually be able to do something to ease the pain than sit in his office feeling helpless.

“Have you eaten anything today?” He caresses Spencer’s cheek with a bit more confidence, and his heart clenches tightly when he feels the younger man lean into his touch. Emboldened, he reaches his other hand under the duvet and clasps one of Spencer’s cold hands in his own, threading their fingers together. He swears he can hear music when Spencer holds his hand tightly, clutching at it as though it’s the last connection he has to the real world.

“Don’t think so,” Spencer murmurs, letting his eyes droop closed again.

“Do you think you maybe feel like eating something now? If I made it for you?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed at that and clasps at Aaron’s hand even tighter. “No, please don’t go,” he begs, sounding as desperate as Aaron feels.

“Hey, hey, okay,” he says soothingly, holding Spencer’s hand tightly in his own as he lays his other palm flat against his cheek, noticing how the firm touch seems to relax him. “How about if we ordered something? Then I don’t have to leave.”

He waits patiently for Spencer’s hesitant nod of consent before pulling his phone out and quickly ordering from the curry house he knows is his favourite. Later, he’ll stop to think about all the little pieces of information he’s stored up on Spencer over the years; he’ll consider why his brain thought small things like his favourite foods and the way he smiles every time a Sarah MacLachlan song comes on were important enough to store away for moments like these.

Right now, though, all his focus is on the man in front of him.

“Can you…” Spencer starts hesitantly, voice cracking, “can you come up here?” He refuses to meet Aaron’s eyes as if sure he’s going to refuse, and he doesn’t know how to tell him just how unfounded his fear is. He’d lasso the moon and wrap it in ribbon if Spencer asked for it.

He climbs onto the bed carefully, surprised when Spencer immediately moves to lean his head against his chest, burying into his warmth. Aaron can hear his pounding heart in his ears and he knows there’s no way to conceal its fast-paced rhythm from a man with his ear to his chest, so he simply forces himself to relax into the bizarre position he’s somehow found himself in, and it slowly starts to calm down.

“Aaron?”

God, he loves it when Spencer uses his first name. It’s so personal, so intimate, and it fills his chest with something akin to euphoria every time it graces his ears. “Yes?”

“Why did you come?”

Well. Isn’t that a question. Truthfully, it’s because it feels like there’s some magnetic pull between Aaron’s heart and Spencer’s; like anywhere Spencer is, Aaron needs to be. The feelings he’s been confused by — the ones he’s been trying to ignore, the ones he’s pretending not to understand despite his subconscious longing for Spencer’s company, his touch, his love — are more prominent and undeniable than ever before. But above all, he came because Spencer needed him. And he’d do that no matter what his brain was screaming at him, or what his heart longed for.

This isn’t exactly the time for a bold, terrifying declaration of love, though, is it?

“You needed me,” he says simply, after a long, telling pause. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.

Spencer nods, pressing impossibly closer to Aaron. Tears are still making their way down his cheeks, wetting the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, but he doesn’t care. He’ll be anything Spencer needs, and if that’s a hug and a good cry, then that’s perfectly fine. He wraps his hand around Spencer’s waist, hugging him closely and he feels him relax even further. The feeling of his small frame pressed against his own is unparalleled, and he has to breathe deeply to keep himself calm. He’s so far gone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks when he feels another sob wrack Spencer’s shoulders.

“I’m exhausted, Aaron,” he replies, voice thick and eyes droopy. “I’m mentally and physically exhausted and I’m lonely. I’m afraid… I’m afraid I’ll never be happy again. I’m tired like I’ve never been tired before, and I just— I can’t keep going like this, you know? I’m never going to get the things I want.”

He presses closer as he says his last sentence and, distantly, Aaron wonders what it is that he wants exactly. A small voice in his head suggests something so preposterous he has to push it aside violently. He might have these feelings for Spencer, but expecting any kind of reciprocation is only going to end in heartbreak; getting his hopes up is simply irresponsible no matter how many stupid, reckless, hope-ridden inklings he might have.

“Spencer,” he starts, but his voice catches and he has to take a moment to compose himself. “Why didn’t you say something? You could have told me, I— I would have helped you.”

“Aaron, you had — still have — so much on your plate, I couldn’t burden you with my… feelings.”

At that ridiculous notion, he reaches for Spencer’s hand and takes it, holding it gently in his own. “You, Spencer Reid, are never a burden to me,” he insists, moving his hand from Spencer’s waist to his short hair, caressing his head soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You are so incredibly important to me, I’m so unbelievably sorry that I ever let you forget that. That we — that this little family ever let you believe you were anything less than crucial and adored. I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing how much pain you were in sooner.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do,” Aaron interrupts him. “We let you down, Spencer. There are no two ways about it. I will spend the rest of my days apologising to you for not seeing how much agony you were in, no matter how well you were concealing it. You work with profilers, and not one person spotted the burden you were carrying. I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt.”

Just like that, the quiet, steady flow of tears Spencer had been crying since Aaron woke him up turn into loud, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs. He turns his face to bury it flat into Aaron’s shirt, rolling so he’s almost on top of him as he searches desperately for purchase in his imploding, grieving state. He holds Spencer as tight as possible, letting him scramble and grip at whatever he can as he completely falls apart, sending little pieces of himself into the atmosphere until he’s nothing but a shell of himself, a broken skeleton with nothing left to give.

It takes almost ten minutes for his violent sobbing to subside, and by the time it does Aaron’s crying too, heart breaking clean down the middle as he tries to hold a broken man together with just his hands. The raw, hopeless, unrestrained emotion in Spencer’s sobs cuts straight through his soul, as if every one of this godforsaken earth’s weighty, miserable grievances have been spilled by one man’s tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs again as Spencer collapses against him, exhaustion palpable as he allows his boneless body to be cradled by Aaron. He has to push aside his self-hatred in order to comfort the younger man — the wrath at himself and the rest of his team can only be unhelpful right now — but he can’t help it from swelling in his chest.

Their food arrives minutes later, and Aaron carries Spencer to the sofa in the living room, internally cringing at how ridiculously easy it is to pick him up, even with his own, albeit mostly healed, injuries still flaring up from time to time. He flicks on the lamp and tucks him in a blanket before running out to get their food. When he returns, Spencer’s staring at nothing as he lays on the sofa, looking so utterly defeated Aaron feels it himself.

“Hey, how do you feel about some food?” he asks softly, perching next to him on the sofa. “Maybe just a little naan? Or some poppadoms?”

Spencer stares at the food Aaron’s laid on the coffee table, a stray tear running down his cheek. He doesn’t even think he’s even crying anymore, it’s just his body doing what it’s used to. Aaron recognises pretty quickly that he’s not up to making any sort of decision, so he plates up a small serving of food: a little naan, half a poppadom, some pilau rice, and some onion bhajis. “Try this.”

Spencer takes the plate obediently and brings a bite of naan to his lips. Aaron gives him some space and serves up his own food before checking the kitchen for some drinks. The naan and some of the rice have disappeared from the plate by the time he gets back with two glasses of water, and he doesn’t even fight the small smile that makes it onto his face at the sight. He’d prepared himself for a hunger strike.

“Let’s watch a documentary,” he suggests, reaching for the remote and flicking the TV on. “How does that sound?”

Spencer actually brightens a little at the suggestion, breaking off a piece of bhaji and sitting up a bit taller. He takes the win and sets the TV to the history channel, catching the beginning of a documentary on European castles.

“Did you know that Wales has more castles than any other European country?” Spencer offers quietly, and Aaron’s heart flip flops happily in his chest — hearing Spencer talk about something he’s interested in, hearing a fact fall from his lips feels like some sort of progress. It’s like seeing a little piece of the real Spencer through the cloak of sadness he’s been shrouded in for so long now.

“Really? Why?” He tries to sound as casual as possible, but he knows his eagerness to keep him talking is showing. “Isn’t it a tiny country?”

“It’s one of the smallest in Europe, but it was a contested territory for centuries, especially in the Medieval era, so countries would set up fortresses and castles to stake their claim,” he explains despite his weariness, before picking another bit of bhaji off. His face isn’t lighting up with quite the same level of enthusiasm as it used to, but just explaining a bit about his knowledge on some obscure topic is enough for Aaron.

When he doesn’t explain beyond that, Aaron simply smiles and reaches for the food on the coffee table. “Do you want any more?”

“Uhm— some more naan?” Spencer sounds almost shy, and it takes him back to when he first joined the bureau, so shy and unsure of his role in the FBI and the world in general. Aaron had felt that flare of protectiveness from his first day in the department, and it’s only grown stronger over time.

“Sure.” He breaks off another piece of naan and hands it over, and the thankful smile he receives in return feels more gratifying than solving any case ever has. The circumstances might not be ideal, but in that moment it strikes him that he wants to spend every evening for the rest of his life like this, watching something that interests and inspires Spencer while they share a take-away on the couch.

Just days ago the thought would have terrified him. Tonight it’s oddly comforting.

As soon as they’ve finished eating and the documentary’s finished, he leads Spencer into the bathroom and makes sure he’s brushed his teeth and washed his face. “Do you want me to help you with the shower?” he asks tentatively, but Spencer shakes his head. “I’ll wait outside, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

He leans against the hallway wall while he waits, but after ten minutes goes by, he knocks on the door. “Everything okay, Spencer?” He calls out a few more times but left with no reply he pushes the door open and finds Spencer sitting on the floor of the shower, staring motionless at the wall as tears stream down his face. “Oh, sweetheart.” The nickname falls from his lips before he can stop it, but that’s the least of his worries.

As he grabs the clean, fluffy towel from the hook on the back of the bathroom door he finds himself, not for the first time, thanking the heavens for Penelope Garcia. He steps forward and turns the water off, grabbing Spencer’s attention, hushing him as he wraps him gently in the towel and lifts him out of the shower. He sits him on the closed toilet seat and dries him the best he can. It’s not like he’s a trained carer, but he does his best. Only his absolute best for Spencer Reid.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says through his tears, “I can’t stop crying. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s no need to apologise. Let’s focus on getting you ready for bed, okay?” He brushes the tears from Spencer’s cheeks before continuing to dry him off.

When he’s dried and dressed in a clean t-shirt and boxers, he carries him — at Spencer’s very adorable insistence — back to the bedroom, tucking him under the duvet and making sure he’s warm and comfortable before he stands upright.

“Stay,” Spencer whispers, grabbing Aaron’s wrist.

Conflicting emotions wage war with one another in Aaron’s mind as he considers such a request. On one hand, it feels majorly inappropriate, even though he’s not Spencer’s boss anymore. He doesn’t want to take advantage of his vulnerable emotional state and they haven’t had a proper conversation about how they feel. But on the other hand, Spencer’s miserable, and if having someone close to reassure him he’s okay is going to make him feel even the tiniest bit better, then he doesn’t know how to say no.

After all, he promised himself that tonight, he would be whatever Spencer needed.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.” His expression is so sincere and earnest that he can’t help it when he slides under the duvet next to him, a warm body immediately cuddling up next to his own.

9.30 is far too early for him to go to sleep usually, but he finds his eyelids drooping only minutes after Spencer’s breathing evens out. The subtle magic, the heady cocktail of desperation and anticipation mingles deep in his heart as he feels himself drop off to sleep, and it’s far too easy to ignore the screaming voice in his head telling him all the awful ways this could go so terribly wrong. Because maybe, his heart whispers, this could go so gloriously right.

Chapter Seven

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban–gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @thataveragenerd (add yourself to my taglist here)

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25 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for mermay, 9 indruck nsfw?

Here you go! #9 was folklore, Indrid’s design is based on a blue-ring Octopus, and I borrowed from one of the Discord convos we had about mer Indrid recently.

Content note: there is implied transphobia/misgendering in the reason Duck ends up in the water.

Duck goes to the depths still protesting, hands and ankles bound in rope and dark water closing over his head.

No amount of insisting he was the man he said he was or appealing to logic was enough; a woman aboard, even when he isn’t a woman, is bad luck and must be gotten rid off. So here he is, drowning for the sake of superstition, folklore and nonsense the reason his lungs scream in protest, denied air.

Whoever said drowning was like falling asleep was a damn liar; he’s in agony, reduced to his most basic state of a creature that wants to stay alive and cursed with the knowledge that he won’t. He shuts his eyes, as if that might make it more dreamlike, and circles past him, he feels fingers on his cheek and then, and then....

Then he’s waking up, chest rising and falling with ease. No more than a nightmare, then, he’s still on the ship-

No, wait, his blanket is floating where he kicked it away. He’s alive, he’s in some sort of bedroom, and he’s fucking confused.

Voices float in under the door, a lilting one reaching him first, “...most stubborn set of legs I ever encountered. A kiss is supposed to be enough, yet while his body can survive in our realm, it insists on remaining like itself.”

“Indrid, his majesty is going to be unhappy when he finds out.”

“I am aware, Vincent. And if my brother finds a drowning man, he may rescue him or not as he sees fit. He does not get to dictate my conscious.”

“I mean, I think you did the right thing” A woman’s voice now, “but he’s still pretty angry at you for the whole giving me legs incident.”

“You wanted to see your beloved, and I am almost as fond of Aubrey as I am of you. A charm that allows you to go between worlds is hardly cause for such a fuss.”

“It was the no-voice thing that bothered him.”

A sigh, “Time and again I have reminded him that strong magic comes with a price. In your case it was easily paid, because Aubrey recognized you instantly and kissed you. As if I would send my own niece into a situation where she might be trapped.” The last sentence is muttered, like the speaker knows no one will listen.

“I know that. That’s why you're my favorite uncle.”

“I am your only uncle” the smile is audible, “and I am just glad the two of you will be married soon. Now if you will excuse me, my foresight tells me my guest is awake.”

A door opens and shuts, and a moment later the curtain of kelp at the end of the room parts. Duck’s never believed in mermaids (or mermen), but that’s what swims to him now, human face and torso giving way to eight silvery tentacles dotted with deep blue rings. They’re almost as striking as his face, his features sharp and alien, crowned with silver-white hair.

“Hello” The mer smiles with sharp teeth, “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, not as confused as I could be on account of what I heard, but still tryin to work out why the fuck you saved me at all.”

“Three reasons: for starters, I dislike having corpses floating around the kingdom. I also do not see the point in having the power of foresight if I cannot use it to prevent suffering when possible. And finally I…” The calm smile on his face falters a moment, “I saw the moments that lead to your being thrown into the waves. You were condemned for being something you are not. I, ah, I could not let such an injustice come to pass.” His mask remakes itself, “and so here you are, Duck Newton.”

“And the kiss?” Duck raises his eyebrow.

“Ah, yes. If a mer kisses a dying human, that human will become a mer themselves. Except in your case, you have-”

“-Stubborn legs?”

A light laugh, “And here I thought I would be the one interrupting you. Yes, exactly. I have no idea why. I’m simply glad the magic worked well enough to help you breathe. There is a, ah, an issue however. My visions show that in your current state, you will not be able to survive on land.”

“But you said somethin about a charm to your, uh, niece?”

“That worked because it simply had to take her from mermaid to human; you’re stuck between forms in a way that, were I to apply the same approach to you it would end badly. As in accidentally turn you into a fish badly, at least in most timelines.”

“Huh” Duck worries the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “so I’m stuck here.”

“Indeed. I’m sorry.” Indrid sits on the foot of the bed, tentacles moving this way and that to fidget with the blankets, the bedposts, and the stray shells on the floor, “This has never happened before, and I did not mean to trap you in this way, I only meant to save you, to give you freedom.”

“That’s more than a lot of folks’ve tried to give me lately.” Tentatively, he touches the tentacle tip nearest him. It weaves between his fingers, the pressure from the suckers on the underside oddly pleasant. He rubs his thumb over a blue spot, which draws Indrid’s attention. His face goes pink and he pulls the tentacle back.

“Apologies, they have a mind of their own at times.”

“Don’t bother me. I, uh, I was just tryin to show you I ain’t mad. Feel a little adrift, but that’s a damn sight better then bein’ dead.”

“Adrift--OH, oh I see, you are going to say you do not know what to do now. The answer is heal; even though you are alive, your body and mind suffered before I saved you. You need rest and care, and I promise you shall want for neither. You are my honored guest, Duck Newton. My home is yours. I, ah, I would offer to let you leave the instant you are feeling able, but as you heard there are some issues with you being seen in this state.”

“Used to layin low.” Duck sighs, flopping back on the bed (or trying to, as he floats down onto the mattress instead).

“I gathered. If I had things my way, you would not need to do such things here. Alas, until my brother gets eaten by a shark, we may be dealing with this arrangement for some time” he gestures to the room, bathed in blues and greens as light filters down from the surface and in through the windows. Two tentacles gather the blanket, spreading it back up Duck’s body and smoothing it down.

“Rest now, Duck Newton. In the morning I will have much to show you.”

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Duck wakes up clawing at the water above the bed, heart beating fast enough he fears it might eject itself up his throat.

The nightmares a fewer these last two days, but whenever they want to be done for good is fine by him.

He gathers seaweed green robe Indrid gave him and makes his way out of the bedroom and down the hall. Indrid gave him a bracelet of cowrie shells that’s enchanted to let him walk without floating away. He’s a strong swimmer, but without a tail to aid him he tires quickly against the force of the water.

The merman’s house is huge, an attempt by the king to keep him happy without giving him any useful power. Most rooms are cluttered with etchings and drawings or items salvaged from wrecks or the shoreline. There are spare beds, but after the night where Duck awoke in a panic and could not calm down, where Indrid found him the next morning exhausted and shaking, the mer offered to sleep in the same room with him. Duck pointed out that it was technically Indrid’s bedroom anyway and he could sleep there if he wanted to. The mer dragged a variety of comfy pillows into the corner and declared he would be quite happy there. More than once Duck’s woken up first to see him sprawled out on the cushions, always clinging one against his chest. Duck wonders what would happen if he offered to take it’s place. He suspects he could do so without issue.

He’s no stranger to being admired, though the last time someone eyed him so approvingly he ran off to sea to avoid marrying them. Indrid’s red eyes contain the same desire but none of the entitlement. The merman’s been staring at him since that first day, though it’s only recently that he let’s Duck seem him doing so, after Duck caught his eye and stared right back.

Teasing Indrid is more fun than he expected, because while the mer usually gives as good as he gets, some days he blushes and wiggles his tentacle tips under Ducks attention. Indrid is obviously high status and, in Duck’s view, the most captivating mer in the kingdom; making him go pinker than a virgin at a striptease from a little flirting is gratifying.

His absolute favorite part of his new home, aside from Indrid, are the gardens at the center. Coral glistens and rainbows of fish flit across his path, sea flowers bloom and wave as he passes by. The best place to sit is in a massive clam shell with an excellent view of the grounds and the city beyond. It also happens to be Indrid’s preferred location to draw.

The mer takes one look at him and extends a tentacle, guiding Duck down to nestle close to him. When they’re with arms reach, one hand leaves his drawing to pet Duck’s thigh soothingly. He tilts his head, intending to study the sketch and ask about it, but ends up with his head on Indrid’s shoulder, slipping back into sleep.

“Oh dear.” Indrid murmurs, closing the book as a flurry of voices swim towards them.

“So, the rumors are true; you’ve brought a human into our domain.”

“Good morning to you as well, dear brother.”

The king crosses his arms, glaring at them, “if you cannot provide a decent reason for your having him here, I will make exile him myself. Right now.”

Indrid’s expression and voice remain calm, but one tentacle coils around Duck’s ankle and his hand clings to the loose trousers, “He, ah, he is, ah”

“I thought as much.” The king swims forward.

“Pet!” Indrid grins triumphantly, “he’s my pet. You keep saying you wish I would find a way to occupy my time and stay out of trouble, and here he is.” Indrid pulls Duck into his lap, patting his head with such exaggeration Duck has to stifle a laugh, “I have been so busy with him the last few weeks I’ve had little time for anything else. Isn’t that right, Vincent?”

Their friend nods, “Yes, your highness, the prince has found Du--, uh, the human most diverting.”

The king narrows his eyes, “Very well. The human may stay in that capacity.” With that, he swims from the gardens, trailed by his advisors.

“I gotta start wearing a leash now?” Duck teases, realizing too late that he’d do so in an instant as long as Indrid was holding the other end.

The blue of the rings deepens, “Not at all. Apologies for referring to you as my pet, but the timelines shifted so heavily in the direction of him casting you into the open sea that I panicked.”

“Aw, you lied to the kings face just for me. Must really like me.”

“I do! I, oh dear have I not made that clear?” Indrid gathers Duck’s hands between his own.

“You have, I was just teasin you. I don’t mind playin your spoiled pet to get one over on him, provided you keep spoilin me.”

Indrid’s grin returns, “I’m certain I can manage that.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“I hate it when he calls my bluffs.” Indrid glowers into the jeweled box just delivered to their doorstep. Right before Duck asks what’s wrong, the merman hands him a small piece of parchment.

Prince Indrid,

Included is a gift for your ‘pet,’ as you are apparently in need of it. It would be a shame for him to get lost, after all.

The note ends with the kings seal. Duck looks up as Indrid turns the box his way, revealing a collar studded with abalone shells and a leash woven from dark, sturdy seaweed. So many obscene images flood his mind it takes two tries before he can focus on Indrid’s words.

“...Thought I kept us clear of anyone who would bother to report us. I’m sure there’s a way around it, ruse aside you are my friend and equal and I will not ask you to humiliate yourself. Hmm, oh goodness, we will need to send word to Dani and Barclay that we cannot come to dinner to tonight, that’s not enough time to draw up a solution, though perhaps we can invite them here instead.” His tentacles trawl the ground as he paces the room.

“‘Drid?”

“Yes?” The mer stops, then his eyes widen, “you are serious?”

“Gotta let me offer first.” He replies with fond exasperation, “I fine with wearin it while we’re out. I know how you really feel about me and, uh, it, uh, makes me feel...safe?” It’s right on the border of a lie by omission, but he manages to get it out.

“I see” Indrid swims casually towards him, as if that will distract Duck from the pink creeping up his cheeks, “in that case, may I put this on you, pet?”

“Uh huh.” Duck tilts his chin up, shuts his eyes with a happy sigh as Indrid latches the collar in place. The mer stays chest to chest with him, testing to be certain the collar is comfortable.

“How is that?”

“Woof” Duck deadpans.

Indrid blinks, confused.

“It’s the noise a dog makes.”

Another blink.

“Y’know those things that are like sea lions but on four legs instead of flippers?”

“That’s what those are called. Fascinating.” Indrid loops the leash into place and Duck growls playfully. The mer pats his cheek, fingers lingering on his skin as he purrs, “good boy.”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Are you ready?” Indrid tips to vials of purple powder into a bowl, causing sweet smelling swirls of color to fill the room.

“Yeah. Been ready for years.” Duck stands opposite from him, drumming his fingers nervously on the rim of the bowl.

A week ago, Indrid asked in that blunt way of his if Duck wanted his human form to be different than it was. When he said yes, the mer immediately swam from the table and into the library to pull books from shelves.

“It will take a few days to prepare; I am careful in all my spells but, well...well I suppose when it is you I am inclined to take even more care than usual.”

It’s not the spell that’s making his nerves bubble up his chest; it’s the component of it he has to contribute. A secret, a precious one, because powerful magic will not give something for nothing.

“Whisper it into the foam.” Indrid gestures to the golden bubbles on the surface of the bowl.

Duck keeps it short and sweet. Then blinding light surrounds him, pure white spiked through with pink and blue, and he collapses to the ground, unable to do anything but hold himself as the spell courses through him. When the colors fade and the room returns to view, it’s all he can do to make his legs stand.

“How, ah, how do you feel?” Indrid taps his fingers together nervously, four of his tentacles following suite.

“Like I got trampled by a horse and came out a new man.”

“Oh. Good.” The fidgeting intensifies. Duck can only think of one reason for that.

“‘Drid? Did, uh, did the spell mean you learned the secret?”

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you? What I said, I mean.”

“No.”

A pulse of water, flourish of blue and silver, and Indrid’s lips find his. Arms and tentacles lift and hold him as they spin slowly across the room, the mer moaning when Duck drags his hands up his chest. He keeps kissing him as he speaks, mouth growing needier after every pause, “I, there were only a few timelines where you confessed your feelings for me and I, I wanted them so badly but I swore I would only act on your feelings if you used them in the spell, not simply because I saw futures where you might.” Tentacles slide under his shirt and up his pant-leg, “ohhhh, touching you in visions is nothing compared to feeling you for real.”

“Can feel me as much as you want, darlin. Got some things I wanna get my hands on too.” He tangles his fingers in Indrid’s hair, glides his mouth down to kiss his collarbone and tease a nipple with his tongue.

“Oh my sweet little human, the things I am going to do to yo-”

The doorbell times and Indrid nearly drops him.

“Damn it all, I forgot we were hosting game night.”

“Don’t worry ’Drid,” Duck pinches the base on one tentacle, “I ain’t goin anywhere, we can pick this up another time.”

----------------------------------------------------------

“I call that a success.” Indrid ushers Duck into the house. They’re returning from Aubrey and Dani’s engagement party (Indrid having provided Aubrey with a mer-charm of her own. As much as he loathes the idea, King Woodbridge has had to give the marriage his blessing; Dani is his only heir. If he disowns her, his throne passes to Indrid, a scenario he hates even more than a human/mer wedding.

Duck wore his collar all evening in case one of the king’s toadies got it into their heads to tell on him. It also matches the clothing Indrid bought him exceedingly well, and he’s not ashamed he admired himself while passing the mirror.

Indrid doffs his cloak as Duck closes the bedroom door, “You can remove that now my sweet.”

He leans against the carved driftwood, “And, uh, what if I don’t wanna?”

The mers hand pauses where it’s setting the leash on a table, “then I suggest you come here at once, pet.”

Not for the first time, Duck longs for a tail so he could speed through the water into Indrid’s arms. The mer is impatient as well, gives a wickedly charming grin as the lease whips out on it’s on to connect with the collar so he can yank Duck flush against him.

“Better, but you are still not as I need you.” Keeping the leash wrapped around one hand, the other starts on the buttons of Duck’s shirt. The human tries to help, only for tentacles to trap his wrists together, “thoughtful, pet, but I do so enjoy unwrapping you myself.”

“‘Drid, pleaseplease hurry.”

“Manners, pet” A tentacle thwacks his ass just as two others pull his pants to the ground.

“I said please” Duck laughs as Indrid nibbles his neck.

“Is that sufficient for someone who spoils you as much as I?” Indrid flutters his eyelashes.

Duck bumps their noses together, “Please, ‘Drid, want you to fuck me, you take such good care of me, wanna take care of you right back, I’ll make you feel so good darlin please.”

“Much better”

His remaining clothing falls away. Out of habit, he moves to cover himself, only for his arms and legs to be pulled outwards, leaving him spread-eagle in Indrid’s hold.

“Do not so much as think about hiding this perfect form from me, pet.” In the front folds between his tentacles, Indrid’s dick begins to emerge.

“Someone get off on admirin his handiwork?”

The smile softens, “I am admiring you, sweet one. You have the finest body I have ever laid eyes on; you did when we met, and you do now. I delight in holding it, touching it, these days I delight in seeing your comfort in your own skin.” A predatory glint returns to his eyes, “and of course, I like fucking you in it. In fact, that gives me an idea.”

Tentacles spin Duck in a half circle as Indrid swims to the mirror, meaning the human sees their reflections as the mer purrs in his ear, “I want you to see just how perfect you look on my cock, pet.”

“Jesusfuck, ‘Drid, yes” His own cock is hardening between his legs as small tendrils part and prod his ass; Indrid’s cock resembles a human one until it reaches it’s base, where the tendrils wait to push his partner further open or coax them to climax. They took some getting used to at first, cool and slick as the teased into Duck’s ass. Now he welcomes them, savors the tenderness with which they ready him.

Indrid coos and purrs in his ear, chirping whenever his cock grinds between Duck’s cheeks. The hand not holding the leash caresses his face while the tentacles see to everything else. And he means everything

“Fuck!” One coils around his dick as another rubs gently at his balls. The first time they tried this they were cautious, unsure how human anatomy would respond to the pressure and suckers. In Duck’s case, the answer was “cum so hard and fast it takes them both by surprise.” Indrid had taken one look at the cock with cum still beading at the head and swallowed it to the root, not relenting until Duck came a second time.

“Ohhhnnnyes” The head of Indrid’s cock presses into him, “oh I never tire of how you feel, pet. So warm and welcoming for you, ah” he whispers in Duck’s ear, “master”

“‘Drid you, you keep that up I’m gonna cum any second.”

“Not before I show you something important. Look” Indrid forces his head forward with the collar. His reflection writhes and bounces eagerly on a cock he can’t see but can definitely feel, lips parted in a prolonged moan as Indrid lays claim to every inch of him.

“My perfect, handsome pet, letting me play with him as I see fit.”

“Damn rightAHfuck, I’m close, if you twist like that again I’m gonna-”

“Cum” Indrid orders. Duck obeys, spilling into the water with a groan of thanks. The mer waists no time, traps him in place with his tentacles so can fuck him hard and fast, one hand tugging the collar and the other fisted in his hair, “oh yes, yes pet, just a little more, you can take a little more, you must, because you are my spoiled little treasure and I can cum in you whenever I please.”

“Fuuck” Duck turns his head for a messy kiss as the mer empties into him with a muffled trill.

One by one, the tentacles relax, Duck’s feet gradually meeting the floor as Indrid trails kisses down his spine.

“Goodness, whatever did I do to deserve you, Duck Newton?”

“Save my life?” Duck turns, gathering the mer into a hug.

“I did that because it was the right thing.”

“You’re right. Hmmmm” he peppers Indrid’s face with kisses, “must be because you’re so damn perfect.”

Indrid hums happily as Duck maneuvers them into bed, “I doubt that’s it, but I am too tired to argue.”

Duck lays down beside him, looping his leg over Indrid’s waist as tentacle twines around his ankle. Maybe one day it will cling to his fins instead, but he’s not all that worried about that now. However he ends up, as long as he’s with Indrid, he knows life will be perfect.

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay #mermay fills

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thecandywrites · 3 years

Text

Blood For Gold Chapter 22

Woo, let the healing begin matters to be set right!

Thanks to @kriskukko for again, letting me borrow her regency era orc art and her regency era troll art too! Let’s bring Count Javyn Jabire back in shall we? And see what he thinks about all of these changes and let Sierge reflect on his own behavior and not let him get off the hook so easily.

@punkhorse96 you’re gonna love it!

Blood For Gold

Chapter 22

“So what kind of wedding did you have in mind?” You asked Demsey at dinner.

“Whatever kind of wedding you want, if you want to go full Dorierran, I will happily comply and pay for whatever you want. I want you to be happy and satisfied with everything. I know the Morrigans tried to make you as “English” as possible. So especially since your family is here and your friends are here and even more are coming in, you make it however you want it to be. I’ll happily submit and concede to anything you want, as long as we get married, the when and how and other details don’t really matter to me. Your marriage to Edward was all about him, This is your wedding, it should please you above all else. To hell with everyone else and their expectations, if they don’t like any particular thing, they don’t need to come.” Demsey reassured you.

“Really?” You asked as your tears glassed over your eyes.

“You mean that? You’re not just saying that to…” You began, almost afraid to believe him.

“No I absolutely mean it, this is your wedding and you’re marrying me for love, it should be exactly how you want to be.” He insisted.

“Thank you.” You thanked him before you announced to the table of what Demsey just told you and how you wanted it to be as Dorierran as possible before you changed your plans, how you were going to use the moura temple in London, instead of the church of the Voyambi’s choice as Demsey had no qualms about informing and insisting to his parents that because your marriage to Edward had been “his way” how it was only right that your wedding to him be all yours and that it should embrace you and your family and heritage and asking you to sacrifice anything was completely out of the question which his mother took as a surprise but the more she thought about it, the more “right” that became.

“Oh Zax and Axal, invite the Raymonds, Axal, I want you to enjoy my wedding with Ramsey, Octavia and Drina by your side. Yalin and Charlotte have always been genuine and I know that Zax will want Charlotte to be there too. I think since they were generous and hospitable with us, that we should be the same with them.” You told Axal and Zax who both teared up but their smiles were beaming.

“Thank you, I didn’t know how you felt so I wasn’t even going to ask.” Axal admitted.

“Me either.” Zax added.

“Well they’re kind of like family at this point and I want this to be a small, private, family and very close friends kind of affair, so of course they should be invited. But that also goes for you Demesy, you should invite your friends too.” You urged him.

“I will, I plan on having Javyn Jabire be my best man, he’s been my closest friend since we were boys.” Demesy smiled.

“Well in that case, will any of you be willing to help Demsey with his wedding suit? It needs to be gold because my wedding dress is gold because in the Hanging Garden Quarter which used to include the Sultanate Quarter and the Shiek and Shah Quarter, the bride and groom wear matching color schemes, I got some fabrics in from Dorierra that should help because I don’t know if the unstitched suit that was already made to go with it will be big enough for him.” You asked hopefully.

“Oh absolutely, after dinner, we can go back to your house to get it all and then we can spend all day tomorrow making him a suit, no worries.” Leumeni reassured you as the other male members of your family eagerly agreed to help as well which made you practically glow with gratitude.

“Thank you.” You thanked them gratefully.

After dinner though you made a stop at the moura Masai Temple and inquired about using it for your wedding as you were happy to see the same people who had been at the Kamoba battle as the band and orchestra also played music here at Masai Temple as they were all happy to see you marry the man who had the balls to kiss you in front of not just Royalty but all of gentry as you immediately made plans and orders for a “Sirerinna Wedding” later in the week for when they had the availability which would be in only five days which they assured you was more than enough time to put that kind of wedding together, because sometimes they usually only had a few hours notice but they were impressed that you had enough self control to wait a whole five days for it which made you and your family laugh.

They assured and reassured you that a lot could get done in a matter of days and that they would take it as a privilege that you, the Violet Viper would be married from Masai Temple as they asked you what colors you would like as you happily told them gold, turquoise and purple which for them made a lot of sense as Demsey happily paid them their asking price for it all and then some to make it ‘extra special’ which they happily accepted as Demsey, just by the looks of the entryway of the temple, he was in awe of it’s splendor and he didn’t need to see the rest of it to know that he was in for a treat to be married from here and after that, you took note of the moura dress shop- Corasura, that had a whole back room full of moura wedding attire that could either be bought or rented but because it was so late, it was decided that if the party needed anything, they would come in the next day to pick what they wanted or needed from there.

Then you brought everyone back to your house and went through all your trunks and got all the supplies you wanted and all the other items had been put with your wedding things for your future groom, whoever he might be as you noticed that there was already so much in these trunks that your family had put in here when you had left home two years prior, they were basically a wedding in a box, or in this case, three boxes or trunks in total, one of items for the groom, one for the bride and the last for the couple and the ceremony. Even the powder for all the white and gold henna was in there, only needing a special water and oil mix to mix it up and set it up to paint you head to toe with it along with other members of your family along with a copy of a henna design book, the most illustrious and amazing copy of the book available.

But Demsey of course refused to actually see your wedding dress because he wanted to at least honor that tradition and not tempt fate and superstition by seeing the bride’s dress before the wedding itself and wanted to wait until he saw you in it walking down the aisle. Which you couldn’t blame him for, even though he was informed that you weren’t going to be walking, you were going to be dancing down the aisle, your whole bridal party would be because that was traditional for a Sirerinna Wedding.

But Leumeni, Coravien, Storren, Brima, Zax, Axal and Rian as well as your hier father’s sons all took notes about the shade of gold and the more intricate details of the dress so that when they helped make Demsey’s wedding suit as well as their own since you had dozens of bolts of yards and yards and yards of fabrics of all kinds, enough to make all the men in your family as well as Demsey’s proper Dorierran wedding suits. Your brothers wanted to make especially sure they would have the same details on Demsey’s clothes as well as their own so that he would match you in an exquisite manner as they took all they could and asked you about what traditions you wanted to keep as you repeated that you wanted the quintessential “Sirerinna Wedding” which in marinai and in Dorierran culture meant ‘true love match wedding’.

The Sirerinna Wedding was reserved for when a bride would settle down for good and it would hopefully be the last wedding of her life and it wasn’t just because you were already pregnant, but that you felt it in your bones that this is what it should be and you were so happy and relieved and thrilled that Demsey was ok with all of this and was essentially, just along for the ride of it all and was embracing all of you, including your family, your home and your traditional culture before all the men in your family and friends departed so they could get to work tonight at the Voyambi’s house which the whole Voyambi family were more than happy to have them although they did insist that all of the gentlemen uphold the rules of decorum and decency which they were all happy to agree to.

The next day the Bellafonts, the Raymonds and the Voyambis met your family back at the moura dress shop, Corasura as all the Bellafont, Voyambi and Raymond women along with Jane, were fitted with traditional Dorierran Hanging Garden wedding celebration dresses as they marveled at them and happily traded them for the bolts of fabrics from Dorierra and charged only a small fee for the actual seamstresses to sew them together and to tailor the other dresses to the ladies and especially once they saw the unstitched wedding suit and actually pinned it to Demsey, found that only needed just a few more inches on the sides as your brothers showed what notes they had taken of your wedding dress and repeated that the two match together before Count Javyn Jabire came into the shop at Demsey’s instructions in the letter Demsey had penned and sent to him the night before.

“Count.” You greeted happily, seeing him again, he had been there for the Kamoba battle and had of course bet on his friend and when Demsey had caught sight of him had talked with him during lunch while you and your family were talking with the Royal Family.

“You still sure about this?” Javyn questioned as he stood on the pedestal and got fitted for his own wedding suit.

“Absolutely, there is no doubt in my mind.” Demsey grinned.

“And this doesn’t seem too sudden for you?” Javyn questioned as the tailor made his measurements and walked away to write them down. .

“Nope, actually,” Demsey began as he gestured for Javyn to lean his way.

“She’s already with child, my child, time is of the essence.” Demsey revealed in a low whisper before putting his finger to his lips to keep that revelation a secret.

“Ah, I see, you celebrated her victory in style did you?” Javyn couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Something like that, a gentlemen never…” Demsey began.

“Oh I know, I know, I would never say anything anyway. But congratulations on both counts then.” Javyn offered amiably as this suddenly made a lot more sense to him.

“Then I take it that the saying is true that ‘mouras have been bred to be irresistible’.” Javyn teased as Demsey made a series of noises and facial expressions of agreement.

“So this couldn’t be helped then?” Javyn noted.

“No it could not, thankfully.” Demsey beamed happily.

“Well I’m happy for you and I wish you the best.” Javyn offered.

“Oh just wait, Audra invited several of her friends who are flying in and will be here hopefully by tonight, I saw a troll or two that might catch your eye.” Demsey teased back.

“Don’t bring me into temptation, I can barely keep Lady Wollworth and Lady Castana at bay as it is. I take it Lady Whitesale is not taking this news well.” He furthered.

“No, I don’t suppose she is, that’s actually why you do not see Princess Benyana in the mix. Benny tried to betray Audra and myself to the Whitesales by making up the most egregious lies and did Sierge heinously wrong.” Demsey informed him before he told his best friend some of the more nasty particulars.

“So in my experience, Benny was the outlier, the other mouras are perfectly amiable, it’s individuals like her that give the whole lot a bad name. So I wouldn’t take her and her conduct as an indicator on mouras, if anything, take Audra or Calla as your cue onto the true moura’s disposition.” Demsey reassured his friend before a herd of other customers came into the shop, but they were all new faces to everyone except your family as you and they all hugged each other tightly and received them happily.

“Your housekeeper told us where to find you, here, as you asked.” Jenniverre offered you a fig as they were all still in their riding leathers as you started laughing as you hugged them all and thanked them for coming as they all handed you figs of all kinds as you happily took them and eagerly inhaled the figs in between introducing your friends to the Voyambis and Count Javyn Jabire who stared at the moura troll in front of him in awed wonder because she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

Her name was Jenniverre Saphairines, she had the most gorgeous pastel indigo skin which matched with her gold moura marks was a heavenly contrast. Her hair was a gorgeous platinum blonde and the way that leather riding suit hugged her voluptuous body was threatening to send his body into a tizzy because he had never, in his life, looked at a more gorgeous creature in his life.

Meanwhile Sierge was in a similar state, staring at Adrilody. If Benny had been beautiful, Adrilody was exquisite. Where Benny felt like a force like a hurricane, all wild and alluring in her air of danger which had been exciting at first. But she was all together different. Like the calm and beautiful rainbow after the storm. All pleasant and calm and her energy was happy, upbeat and peaceful. She was just...darling and he could tell she was all sweet like honey without the sting of the bees.

“So where’s Benny?” Adrilody asked as she noticed her biggest rival and cousin was not in attendance.

“She left by train to go home last night, she was no longer welcome here.” Your mother informed her.

“Ah, I take it from your tone, she lived up to her reputation.” Adrilody gathered.

“What’s her reputation now?” You asked curiously.

“Oh she’s known as Benny the Bitch now, she’s gone to three different courts to try to court different bachelors just in the last year, and she’s all about the quick fix and the immediate payoff and she’ll burn any bridge if she thinks she can get a better greener pasture at the other end and benefit in any way. She has gotten banned from five different courts in total, she keeps having her grandmother do a purification spell on her so that she can regain her virginity over and over again, she’s lost it, I don’t know how many times now. She only took this invitation because it came with the promise that her rank would not suffer and the super high pay out, because before now, her rank has suffered, does anyone know what rank she has now?” Adrilody explained.

“She tried to manipulate Audra into getting a Dowager status.” Loreiris revealed as all the new comer’s eyes grew wide as they all grimaced.

“She didn’t get it.” You reassured them as they all blew out a breath of relief.

“Does anyone know what she did get?” Adrilody asked.

“Tavnit.” Leumeni revealed with a smug grin.

“Oh thank the gods! Finally!” They all exclaimed as you could only just shake your head.

“What does tavnit mean?” Sierge asked.

“It means “no master” it means that a bride is no longer allowed to be in the bride system because she will do more damage than good and that she is beyond her welcome in it. I know this because I have Tavnit, because of the mourkatili.” You answered as they all gasped, most of them in outrage.

“It’s ok, I’m relieved I have it honestly. It means I’m not a slave to the system. I mean I’m having a Sirerinna Wedding for crying out loud. Don’t feel sorry for me, I’m getting a happily ever after with the love of my life, the system can hang itself for all I care.” You insisted with a laugh.

“Don’t be offended, just be relieved that none of you have to contend with her anymore, but she did leave behind one last victim. Sierge.” You said as you gestured over to him.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” They all offered Sierge.

“Well, like the saying says, ‘when something seems too good to be true, it usually is’.” Sierge commented as he did his best to keep his composure as the others gave him apologetic looks before they went from the dress salon to the moura jewelry shop called Orianna, that was right next door to get jewelry and other accessories for their wedding suits, even though Demsey didn’t need much of anything because your trunk of goodies had already set him up really well for all he needed or even wanted.

“So once we are done here, we have a lot to do, we need to preserve all those figs and then we have henna to do, so much henna.” Your mother suggested once everyone got what they wanted and needed from both stores.

Javyn suddenly, uncharacteristically felt that his business didn’t need much of any attending to as Demsey did all he could from his home office as Javyn did the same, trying to do as much business as quickly as he could from Demsey’s office too, as Javyn asked to come and stay with Demsey for the week since once your henna was done and needed to set, the girls came to apply the henna mixture to the boys and the rest of the Voyambi family after doing Myra Bellafont’s family and Jane and the Raymonds of course.

“So why is it white? I thought henna was usually black or even dark red?” Sierge asked as Adrilody applied it to him as he was more than happy to be in a state of undress, in only his breeches that came down to his knees but was otherwise naked and only hoped she liked what she saw as he had gone through the book and picked the design that appealed to him the most. Of course having to be shaved clean and scrubbed so that the skin was clean and fresh also made a big difference too. He wasn’t wild about losing his chest hair but having Adrilody attend to him, he’d happily go bald head to toe if it meant she’d be the one to do it because having her near was sending him into a tizzy again.

“Because for millenia, purebred mouras could capture light into clouds, long before electricity. Well when mouras would do this in the light of the full moon, they created what’s called “black light clouds” and they’re this most unusual shade of indigo violet purple but more blueish. When all the lights are off but a black light cloud is turned on, everything white glows a light blue and other colors can glow too. The white will make your body glow in the light. Audra is covered from head to toe in it so her whole body will glow, even through her clothes if they are sheer enough. It’s a tradition in many cultures for the women having henna are exempt from any housework or chores or anything for as long as the henna lasts. But the moura twist on this is there’s an aphrodisiac in the henna and it’s a sign of very good fortune if she falls pregnant before it wears off. Like an ink stain on your hand. But since she is already pregnant, she’ll just enjoy all the extra sex regardless.” Adrilody grinned as she focused on her work and did her best to ignore the handsomeness of her subject.

“And why am I being painted in it then?” Sierge asked as he watched her work in awed wonder, she was clearly an artist and it was a great honor to have himself be her canvas.

“Well, that’s another tradition everyone in all the friends and families involved in the wedding party get it done on them, it’s seen as very good luck if a wedding plants seeds of metaphorical love in others who attended the wedding and are wearing the henna get married to others wearing the henna too, we just came from The Palace of Windsor and applied some to the Raymonds and Ramsey, Octavia, Axal and Drina all got matching henna so when the black light turns on, the four of them make up a romantic unit, which here might be untraditional but in Dorierra, it’s not unusual at all, and of course Charlotte got a specific pattern that I also applied to Zax so it’ll show up on them too and even Jane, I did her hands and feet cause that’s all she wanted but Rian got the same so that even they will show up as a couple too. So that part of the tradition is already being played out, so you’re off the hook in that respect, but you are part of the wedding party, closest brother to the groom, so of course you would have a fair amount.” Adrilody explained as she kept looking at the book and then back at her handiwork on his chest to make sure she was still applying this correctly, using the right technique and following the design because if she looked into his eyes too long, she felt like she could get lost in them but she had to bide her time because she had heard from Calla what Benny had put Sierge though and she knew she needed to give him time to heal from the hurt Benny caused and hoped that Sierge wouldn’t be against mouras all together because of Benny.

And Adrilody, believed that the design chosen was indicative of the person and had watched Sierge closely as he went through the book to find a design since Sierge could pick out any design he wanted while Demsey was getting the same exact designs from your mother and grandmother as they painted him with the henna too while also casting specific spells in a chant like song and poem while they did it to ensure that Demsey would never raise a hand to you in anger or say a mean hurtful, cutting remark or let his eyes wander from you and be faithful to you in all things and of course satisfy you in every way he could.

However the design that Sierge picked out was telling to Adrilody. In her experience, men who had been wounded but were trying to tough it out usually got this design. The proud lion’s head showed strength, bravery and regal confidence but betrayed hurt and battle scars.

“So do you want this exactly how it is in the books or do you want any kind of twist with it?” Adrilody asked.

“You know, I really like the design in the book but you’re the artist, take whatever liberties you want, I’m sure it’ll come out better than the book if you do.” Sierge answered as Adrilody smiled happily as she finished the lion’s head and began to work on the mane and no longer needed to look back at the book and went head first in her own unique design.

“So what design do you think you’ll get?” Sierge asked her.

“I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet, I usually do most of mine in a mirror except for my back which I can’t reach but Jenniverre, Calla and Audra are really good at this and Jodhaa and Loreiris are just as much masters at every art including henna as they are the art of wielding the blade. I’m sure Audra especially will give me something awesome, she’s like me, she takes the traditional and gives it a twist and a spin and makes it so much more and so much better than the original. That’s why she’s such a good fighter, she shows great creativity and ingenuity but never at the cost of her own integrity.” Adrilody answered.

“Whereas Benny doesn’t.” Sierge realized.

“Nope. But I hope you won’t use Benny to judge us all and think that because she’s that way, that all of us are, because that’s not true. I mean she’s my cousin for crying out loud and even I am ashamed of her behavior and usually avoid her at home and she may technically be family but she is far from being a friend and much closer to being a foe to me personally, she likes to say that family should stick together but she backstabbed her own brothers in the Kamoba but still demands their loyalty which is wrong. She’s tried to burn me a few times in every sense, that’s why I and everyone else steer clear of her. She’s the exception and nothing like what a good moura bride should be, she takes every bad trait and turns it up to its maximum, thinking she’s being original but sadly she’s just being cliche. She had promise in the beginning but her obsession at being the biggest baddest motherfucker in the room has obviously led to her downfall. Audra was the standard for many good reasons and Benny always resented that she couldn’t reach it and instead wanted to set her own standard. Too bad it was just in the wrong direction. I’m just sorry you got mauled in the process and I wish you were the first and last but sadly, Benny leaves a trail of carnage wherever she goes and I had hoped for Audra’s sake that this place would have been the exception that even Benny would have realized that betraying Audra when she was already being betrayed by everyone around her should have been a step too far, but unfortunately, no. Just be grateful she is now far away and hopefully you’ll never have to see her again, let alone deal with her. Honestly I don’t even want to go back home if she’s going to be there raising all kinds of hell and stirring up family drama and all kinds of trouble trying to put the blame for her own consequences on anyone but herself. Honestly, you dodged a bullet not being bonded to her as did every other guy who she did the same thing to. You deserve better.” Adrilody offered apologetically.

“Thank you.” Sierge thanked her as her words were like a healing balm for his heart that she was painting over.

“Why didn’t you accept the offer to come here?” Sierge asked.

“Because the royal family could only afford for two to come “officially”. Honestly with the communications cut between Audra and the rest of us back home, we didn’t know what to think. First she leaves, then a year later we hear that she’s widowed and has shakan status and then nothing again until only a few weeks ago when only her family was invited to see her but when they called back during the messengerari’s it was the most horrific news until only a couple of days ago when she contacted me directly. A lot can happen in two years. But the chance to come to her Sirerinna Wedding, which in marinai is a true love wedding, like you’re marrying your soulmate, till death do you part, grow old together, kind of wedding because moura brides in the system usually have three to four weddings in their lives and Sirerinna is supposed to be the last, the biggest, most important in her life, it’s the one that counts for everything, none of her real friends would ever turn that down, that’s why so many of us came as fast as we could get packed, we will happily pile onto a bed or sleep in a stall with our griffins for a chance to go to that if it’s for her because we know that she would do the same for us because she has always been the best of friends to all of us and for Benny to do her so wrong just shows how awful Benny is, not Audra. From what she’s been through, it’s the least we can do and to hear what she went through while we were painting her with henna this morning, to hear it directly from her, it was heartbreaking and it’s a miracle she’s alive and she deserves better than she’s gotten so now all of us are just hoping your brother does right by her and treats her lovingly from now on.” Adrilody revealed.

“So are you married?” Sierge asked.

“No, I’ve just entered the system and just got my own classification, I’m actually a few years younger than Benny, I haven’t even gotten any offers yet, let alone get seen by any potentials yet and even right now, my mother is negotiating my proper asking price with the stable masters. But with Benny getting a tavnit status from here and with how badly she did not just you but this whole court because the Raymonds related what she did to the Royal Family who were not pleased at all, they were quite angry actually and from what I heard from Mama Yalin when I was doing this to her this morning, they were talking with the stable masters and when Benny gets home, who knows what kind of punishment she will face. Because you have to understand that every bride who leaves Dorierra, everyone is looking to her to judge her and the whole system by her and her conduct and that’s usually why most brides have to behave in such a way that is above reproach, except for Benny apparently, and because she’s come here and made a muck of it, now any bride who comes through has to be her opposite, they have to be extra good to help overcome and overcorrect the damage she’s done to repair the damage to the moura brides system’s reputation. And those brides, oof, they’re a just a different kind of severe and they’re just on the opposite end of the spectrum and make us out to be perfect, innocent, guileless, nonthreatening saints who would never dream of being clever because clever and conniving are too similar to some and that’s not fair either, because I can tell you right now that if the masters implement that protocol, none of the brides you see now would be welcome back here because all of us are classified as Rissa, which is middle of the road- too clever for the innocents, too soft hearted for intrigue and not sharp enough in wit to survive the most extreme of attacks but too witty for the simple minded and easily offended, like that saying, ‘a jack of all trades is a master of none but better than a master of one’. But my parents have always encouraged me to just be the best version of myself that I can be and at this point I’m just hoping that the right suitor will look at me and just accept me as a I am and not cut off parts of me that are inconvenient or that he doesn’t like, like the way Edward did to Audra, taking a square peg and cutting it to try to force it into a round hole, but Demsey is doing his best to mend the damage and cuts and at least try to glue on all the cut off pieces to try to make it whole again, which helps quite a bit and reassures us a lot.” Adrilody mused as she finished up with the mane of the lion and continued to fill in as she went, letting her hands practically discover the pattern that seemed to bloom in her head as she did it.

Like a writer discovering a story as they write it or an artist or architect discovering a design as they work on it as she scooted closer and let her arm rest on the other half of his chest to help brace herself and her other hand as she seemed to hyperfocus on the task at hand and that was to make Sierge’s chest her own mural as Sierge reveled in the close contact and the feel of her breath on his chest as his imagination was sweetly torturing him of fantasies of either her over him or her under him and bringing her to ecstasy and fantasizing about how much sweeter she would taste.

“Ok, if you’ll excuse me I have to refill, I’m getting low.” She excused herself as she got up to refill her piping bag with more mix.

“So how’s it going?” Jenniverre asked Adrilody in Marinai as she was there at the bowl refilling her bag too.

“It’s going good, he chose the lion, so he’s obviously trying to play it tough, Benny hurt him something deep. To kill his unborn child like it was a weed in a flower garden. That has to hurt something awful, but he’s been giving me free rein so it’s turning out really nicely. I always do my best work when I’m given free rein.” Adrilody answered.

“Mine is half way to falling for me I think, he keeps asking me all these questions about myself and what quarter I’m from and what traditions and culture I’ve been brought up with. He told me I’m his first moura troll he’s ever seen before and I think this mix is a little too heavy on the aphrodisiac powder if he’s like this with just the base work on his skin.” Jenniverre revealed.

“Well if you want him, you better snatch him fast, because with Benny tearing through here and setting this court on fire, I doubt us rissa’s will get a chance to come back, it’ll probably go to the aquiras.” Adrilody reminded her friend.

“Ooh, I didn’t think of that.” Jenniverre realized before she added another spoonful of aphrodisiac powder to the mix both in the bag and in the bowl and another few drops of the liquid pheromones in the carrier oil and another spoonful of glitter and tried to casually stir it in to make it look like she was adding more glitter to the mix before she hastily refilled her piping bag and returned to Javyn as Adrilody had already filled her bag with the mix before Jenniverre “enhanced” it.

“So what do you think you own price will be?” Sierge asked Adrilody curiously as she came back over and settled back into her rhythm of her work.

“Psh, I have no idea. A lot of factors play into the price. But my advice to you is do not try to find another moura bride right now or right after your brother’s wedding, not until you fully heal from the damage of the last. And don’t try to find a better “nicer” version of what you just experienced, because that’s not fair to you or to her.” Adrilody advised him in all seriousness.

“And honestly, look at the service Benny did for you. What Benny excels at is finding someone’s weaknesses and exploiting them and working them like a horse to the plow without any reward of food or shelter or any other necessities but instead their wants in that moment but nothing else which in the grand scheme of things, usually is nothing of real lasting value or consequence. Now that you know your weaknesses as does anyone and everyone else. Work on yourself, build up those weaknesses so that they can never be your downfall again. Because even though your family isn’t saying so, there was still a breach of trust between you and your family. Especially Demsey and even your parents. You’re grown so your father isn’t really permitting your mother from really chastizing or disciplining you for even giving the smallest of half truths to Benny in the first place. You should start by re-earning every bit of trust and respect back from everyone in your friends and family and don’t let everyone put all the blame on Benny and make yourself out to be the biggest victim and shirk any responsibility or any guilt for whatever part you had to play in it. And don’t take your winnings in the Kamoba to do that for you, money can be won or lost as quickly as it rains then shines. And also realize that there was truth in Benny’s criticisms of you too. She wasn’t just saying whatever hurtful thing she could think of. The truth when not paired with tact can hurt someone’s feelings and someone’s sense of self just as much as a lie can. Benny doesn’t mince her words when she doesn’t need to. She can be very direct and brutal in her honesty. So maybe take that to heart too and use that as your stepping stone to rebuild whatever she damaged in you too and then refortify her damage and turn her truths into an inaccuracy. That’s always the best revenge is when a harsh criticism while rooted in the past reality- no longer holds true in the present. Use this to grow yourself and your personality. That would be my advice.” Adrilody suggested as Sierge was awestruck by how profound she was in bestowing such wisdom and realized, she was right, about everything.

He had a lot of work to do on himself to be worthy of a bride like her. If anyone deserved a dowager status, it was the woman in front of him now and while it was true, he was comparing her to Benny, she had a point, that wasn’t fair to her. He really just needed to look at her and see her, not anyone else. Not a fantasy, but the reality and he had a lot to make up for and needed to make this right, because everyone deserved better from him and he shouldn’t have been so caught up in his own sexual pleasure, that he traded in his own family’s trust and respect for it. No wonder Benny went after him first, because he made himself easy prey to her. He practically rolled over and put his own throat in her jaws and had the audacity to be surprised when she bit down.

Once she was done with his chest, she moved onto his back and started humming to herself as she continued to work, pulling elements from many of the designs in the book and blending them together beautifully as Sierge was just happy and content to be her canvas and welcomed the peace that her company brought him before your mother and your grandmother came over to check up on her handiwork.

“Wow, new design Lody?” Your mother appraised as she looked over Lody’s work on Sierge in awe and appreciation.

“Yup, he let me have free rein, so I’m taking advantage, come back here,” Adrilody invited as they came around and they all gasped when they saw the impressive design radiate from the center of his shoulder blades out, like a huge mandela as your mother and grandmother took keen notes of it and looked at each other while giving each other meaningful looks with scheming grins as they each praised Lody for each well executed element of the design as Lody had to refill her piping bag twice now. Although she tried to gather the mix from the outside of the bowl where Jenniverre hadn’t “enhanced” it too much.

“You are blessed to have such an artisan as her to do your henna such as this. It’s a one of a kind work of art.” Loreiris praised Sierge which made both Sierge and Lody smile happily.

“We will have to do the same on her.” Your grandmother whispered to your mother in marinai.

“Don’t you dare.” Lody practically sang out back in marinai, trying to keep her voice and tone pleasant so as not to raise Sierge’s suspicions.

“Why not?” Your mother asked curiously.

“Can you imagine what my mother would think? For me to receive Benny’s damaged leftovers? Benny mauled his heart, mind and soul, I don’t need him thinking I’m a nicer version of Benny and I have enough problems with people thinking that about me as it is. I do not wish to be in her shadow any more than she liked to be in Audra’s. I am my own unique person. And I need my mate, whoever he may be, to see that, not see me as another her or constantly compare me to her either for my elevation or decline. Plus I’m sure Benny was brutal in her truths of criticisms, and they are still truths and I would much rather have an honorable man who would not give his self respect, much less the faith and trust of his family over to an enemy parading around as his lover and confidant for his own sexual release and momentary happiness, I’m sure he had his own motives for doing it and until I know them, I can’t trust him and neither can anyone else, so don’t you dare match my henna with his.” Adrilody repeated with a smile like “fuck you” was written on her teeth and a determined look in her eyes.

“That is true, you’re right, I apologize.” Loreiris offered.

“Thank you.” Adrilody accepted.

“So...I feel like you’re talking about me.” Sierge murmured.

“We are, we are discussing the meaning of the henna you chose and what that means about you as a person. You chose a lion, a male lion specifically. It means regal dignity, power and strength.” Adrilody revealed as Sierge seemed to puff his chest out proudly.

“It also means, that you’ve been hurt and you’re making a show of strength and confidence in trying to remain composed as you conceal your real hurt and that the mane is a defense to keep you from garnering any more battle scars. You have gotten mauled by the wolf so the lion, is an appropriate reaction.” Loreiris deduced.

“Exactly.” Adrilody nodded in agreement.

“Wait, do all of these have meanings like that?” Sierge asked.

“Oh yes, mouras are bred to read into meanings behind preferences which there has been countless years of science and research behind it in Dorrierran custom. Red can mean passion, or rage, lust or danger, it is an extreme color, the color of war and death or carnage or the color of a blush. Depending on the shade or hue. Blue can mean peace, or inaction, even laziness, tranquility or depth. Like the ocean, peaceful one moment but can be caught up in a storm the next. Green can mean life, vibrance, or the other extreme, sickness or decay, like bread mold and gangrene, again, depending on the shade and hue. Black can be mysterious, or deadly, secretive yet seductive because it shows shape but hides intent. White can be lifeless, devoid of life and color just as much as it means innocence and a fresh new start, like a piece of white paper, just waiting to be turned into a piece of art that is the purpose of the white henna, to indicate a fresh new start, it is simply a thick liquid in the bowl, but when used with intent and intelligence, can create works of art, like what is on you right now. Gold can be opulence and all consuming greed. But greater meanings is the symbolism of the patterns and animals chosen as well. A panther is strength true, but lonesome, solitary. A tortoise is slow, but deliberate, and can endure. An elephant is large, with an exceptional memory and strong family ties, but like the tortoise is slower, much more deliberate and cautious but couragous enough to go into war just as much as it is willing to help it’s rider build, moving beams with it’s trunk. An eagle is proud but aloof, a hawk is a keen hunter with great speed, but not soft or comforting. An owl is wise and long living, but detached. A viper is deadly, yet protective and demands respect and will bluff before it bites, trying to warn anything that threatens it. You chose a lion, lions like to hunt in prides, be close to families, they are defensive of their territory and will die defending it. The lion in the artwork is strong, brave, courageous. Who’s strong clean lines invoke respect and admiration. But little creativity or a willingness to bend before they break. But you did not stick to the design in the book but in fact you are open to new designs and change and even now with the softer curves in the lines that Adriolody has given the design, shows she is encouraging you to bend your will and accept that your will has to bend before it’s broken completely. You must yield for now. But will gain your strength back and be stronger than you have ever been before, which is good, you are letting go of some old to embrace new, but you still have a long way to go.” Loreiris sagely explained before she and Jodhaa left to gather the remaining henna for their own designs.

“Holy shit, does she always hand everyone’s ass to them on a platter like that?” Sierge asked Adrilody over his shoulder which got her snicker laugh and nearly snot all over him.

“Yes, be grateful she went easy on you. She has this test, where she hands you a bunch of colored squares painted on thin pieces of wood and asks you to pick your favorites and your least favorites of all the colors. For every color you love yet hate has a meaning and she will outright fuck your mind up with how accurately she hands you your ass and shows you yourself in the most accurate mirror there is- that has nothing to do with your outward appearance. She has taught many this test and what each color means whether that person likes or hates it but once she teaches you the meanings of the colors, she will not read for you again because you’ll of course choose the colors based on their meanings, not on the colors themselves to try to throw the test off, trying to get the best result. She says the best and most honest results are when someone takes it for the first time, thinking it’s just a fun little game.” Adriolody murmured in a low whisper before she finished the design on his back and moved to his arms.

“Would you do the test on me?” Siege asked curiously.

“I didn’t bring it with me, and I doubt anyone else did either. But it’s usually a fun little “game” that is played with the groom before the wedding, and the positive is shared with the groom, but the negatives are shared with the bride so that she is given a heads up so to speak about what kind of man she is marrying and what she should look out for.” Adrilody revealed in a low murmur as his arm was up and she could get a whiff of his pheromones. The henna is supposed to be affecting him, not her. It wasn’t even on her but here she was, thirsting over him. Not only did he look good but smelled heavenly to her too, it was going to be hard for her to fight the attraction once she was painted with the henna too. If only she had met him before Benny mauled him and if only he had met her before Benny. Adrilody reminded herself that once again, it was not her job to heal her cousin’s hurt. And if there was ever going to be any hope for any kind of friendship, let alone a relationship between the two of them, there had to be no confusion, conflict or distraction in his mind or heart, and right now, there was much of all three.

Once she was done she had Sierge stand in front of a messengerari to capture her work, having him slowly turn since her mural in henna stretched all around him and down his arms and was made in such a way so that even when his arms were up or down, they added to it.

“This is your best work yet Lody.” Your mother and grandmother and all the others praised as they looked it over.

“Sometimes when you give a wild horse it’s rein, it’ll show you secret lakes in the mountains.” Jenniverre quoted from one of the holy books.

“So true, she has made you into something extraordinary Sierge. Part of me thinks you shouldn’t be in the bride system Lody, Dorierra needs a talent like you at home to do this to the other brides in the Hanging Garden Quarter if not many more.” Jodhaa complimented.

“Thank you, but now my hands are tired and sore, not to mention the rest of me. I should get back to Mirador with Audra and take a bath and rest. Audra’s henna should be dry and be ready to be washed off by now, I look forward to any art she decides to bestow upon me, Audra also does her best work with free rein.” Adrilody suggested before they left, all the guys trying to stay still while they waited for the henna to dry and to stain their skin and were told to leave it on for at least an hour or two. But Audra’s henna, was supposed to be stay on all day so that when it washed off, she would practically glow.

“That looks amazing Sierge.” Amara and Kiera praised since their henna had been done first upstairs in private and only had it on their hands, feet, legs and chest, so they could still walk around as usual as Callie had wanted practically her whole body done.

“Thanks, hey, can you get Ma’ma?” He requested before they nodded and informed their mother that Sierge wanted to see her.

“Hey, oh wow, Adrilody did an amazing job with this design! I didn’t see it in the book, if I had, I would have requested this one.” His mother Gwendolyn praised.

“Thanks, all I told Adrilody was that I wanted a lion but that she could have free reign on how she gave it to me. And she did a fantastic job. And we got to talk while she put it on me and she made some really good points as she did it. She told me what lions meant in her culture and what they symbolized and she was really accurate. And she made the point that even though I was “mauled” metaphorically speaking by that bitch wolf. It was partially my fault for willingly laying down and offering myself up to be her prey. And I never should have put my own pleasure at the cost of everyone’s confidence and trust in me. I’m sorry. I’ll happily submit to any discipline you see fit.” Sierge offered to his mother who almost burst into tears.

“You should definitely apologize to your brother. And whatever he decides, you should do, since your offense was against him and Audra. You can make it up to her by keeping her condition a secret and make whatever amends she wants.” Gwen advised before Sierge came over to Demsey and did just that, offering a sincere and heart felt apology.

“Honestly, it’s going to take time to learn to trust you with anything again, and the fact that you gave her even as much as you did, means that I now know your price for our brotherly bond, which should have been priceless and it should have been sacred enough for you to never breach it and the moment you had the inkling that she was trying to jeopardize that, you should have backed off and quit her and put as much distance between her and yourself as you could, she had you ignoring the head on your shoulders by squeezing the one between your legs. And now because of your conduct, that put this family’s loyalty and integrity into question, I had Audra’s mother and grandmother literally at my throat, questioning me and my own loyalty and integrity and faithfulness, you saw what happened with Benny’s own brothers, how the moment they knew she was working you, they distanced themselves from her as did Calla and her brothers and Audra. You should have picked up on all of their cues and don’t go running where everyone is fleeing from.” Demesy lectured.

“Yeah, I hear you. I agree. I should have been more careful and read the signs of fire, instead of being enchanted by the glow of the flame.” Sierge answered, quoting from a holy book himself.

“Exactly.” Demsey smiled in relief that Sierge seemed to get it.

“I like the alicorn though.” Sierge complimented, appreciating the art on his brother’s body in turn.

“Thanks, apparently, that’s what Audra got, she’s always been a unicorn in the wild, untamable sense, the Morrigans shot her down and broke her horn, but according to her mother and her grandmother, I helped her up and gave her wings so she can take to the skies and fly right along side me. Which I thought was really sweet.” Demsey grinned as he looked at it all.

“That’s interesting, Adrilody said that all the designs have meanings and Loreiris confirmed it. Loreiris said the lion meant that I’m making a show of strength to conceal my own hurt from the mauling Benny did and, she of course was right.” Sierge revealed.

“Well damn, I wonder what the alicorn means then?” Demsey asked as he looked at it in a handheld mirror since his chest hair and the chest hair of all the guys had to be shaved off and their skin scrubbed to make the skin ready to take on the henna.

“I think Audra will tell you when you see her on your wedding day.” Sierge ventured.

“I know I can’t wait to see Jenniverre, I imagine you’re anxious to see Adrilody too, I wonder if she’ll get anything that matches yours, because Jenniverre said that I picked what she always gets herself, the stingray and that they mean peace and elegance.” Javyn practically giggled excitedly as he appraised his own henna and was delighted that it was such a clean, crisp contrast on his dark midnight blue skin as he just couldn’t stop marveling at it.

“I hope so.” Sierge found himself grinning and quite liking the thought of that.

“So? How was it?” You asked once your family came back.

“Javyn got a stingray, so who wants to put a stingray on me?” Jenniverre squealed excitedly.

“She likes him a lot, she upped the dosage of the isla in the mix,” Lody murmured in your ear in marinai as your eyes grew wide and gave her a meaningful look that she returned.

“Mom, grandma, how about you two do Jenni, I’ll take care of Lody, on my own.” You suggested as you let them take the remainder of the mix to put on Jenniverre so you could mix up fresh henna for Lody.

“So what did Sierge get?” You asked as you mixed it together thoughtfully, making sure it was the correct and was in balance.

“A lion.” Lody answered as she undressed and got into the special henna seat.

“Oooh, yikes,” you sucked in a breath through your teeth with a grimace.

“I mean Benny mauled him bad.” Lody defended.

“True,” you had to admit as you poured the mix into the bag.

“But he did let me have free rein, so I made the most amazing kick ass lion I’ve ever made, I captured it and saved it to the messengerari, here, do you have a hand held one?” She said before you handed what looked like a special hand held mirror as she opened the handle and rolled out the special typer on it and keyed in the code to bring it up.

“Wow! That’s exquisite, I hope you can duplicate it for your book. If that were in the book, everyone would get it, that is amazing!” You marveled.

“Now, please, don’t match it.” Lody requested.

“The shadow?” You guessed cryptically because when reading the meaning of henna designs or colors and their meanings, there was “the light” meaning the positives, and then “the shadows” meaning what was hidden by the light shining upon the object, when one read into the meanings of the designs and one knew the lights as well as the shadows, it helped decipher the meaning and much more importantly the intent of the person you were working with.

“Yup, the shadow.” Lody nodded in confirmation.

“Well do you mind if I still use elements and hints of this? Because this is epic and I want to try to do this justice but I promise I won’t give you a lioness or copy it faithfully, still give you something unique and one of a kind, but can I do a jaguar or a leopard, tiger perhaps?” You asked hopefully.

“Tiger.” She decided.

“Yes! Tiger it is.” You said as you had her keep the picture up to draw from as you worked diligently, trying to copy the style and the details but not the overall design as her own pattern seemed to bloom on her skin as you discovered it just as she had done with Sierge, making her whole body a mural of greater beauty than what she had done, having to refill the piping bag several times over, careful not to make sure the mix was correct and not out of balance.

“So I have a theory.” Lody noted as you were doing her arms.

“I’m all ears.” You answered.

“Because of Benny, I think this court will go to the aquiras, the same way they did in the others she tore through.” Lody murmured quietly.

“And what are you? Did you get your classification?” You asked.

“Rissa,” She answered.

“Did Benny steal the nescia status because of the other maulings in the other courts?” You asked.

“I think so. The stable masters were hoping if the whole family had a disciplinary action, that the whole family would get after her, and we tried, but, like a wolf, she mauled us too and had every excuse in the book and then some to validate her actions. I’ve already seen others come and demand audiences and auditions with my other sisters and cousins, demanding a nicer version of Benny and retribution. Thankfully Mama Chikati saw that they all had revenge and retribution in their hearts and that they meant harm and would not allow us to go to them. She instead happily took the downgrade to keep us from ever being the prey to them, knowing that they were hungry lions, simply looking to devour a poor dog in place of the wolf that mauled them.” Lody confessed.

“Although I’m happy that Sierge chose a lion whose mouth was closed, it showed that he is not actively looking to devour, simply, trying to be stoic while his wounds heal.” Lody noted.

“Now I worry for when the winter comes, I worry he will be frozen in such a state and waste away. Some chill will calm the burn and the rage, but too much will freeze and then burn again. What he needs is the comfort of his familial pride, to heal to recover, but once he is healed, hunt again, but not for the closest, easiest prey. And not to become pray to anyone else. But hunt for a prize of his own. Once he realizes his own distaste for being in the shadows of others, coming into the light, will help, of course seeing you shine in the light, your stripes a sharp contrast to the solid black coat of that bitch wolf, the black will remind him that you are like her in a few ways, a capable hunter, cunning and clever, but never at the downfall of others but purely for the survival of yourself and your den, but that you stand out and don’t wait until dark to do anything, but instead can choose to move in broad daylight and still have stealth, you do as you please, independent from a pride.” You murmured as you continued to use a striped pattern on her skin with gorgeous mini patterns both in and out of the stripes.

“Only you would see the truth of the choice, both in the light and in the shadows.” Lody praised you.

“Well all big cats share similarities, at least you didn’t go full wild dog, or a shark, seagull even.” You laughed, teasing her.

“Oh my god, don’t you dare put any of that on me.” Adrilody cackled.

“People like to say pigeons are rats with wings, nothing compared to seagulls. Those things will bite your hand for the bread and then crap right in your hair.” You barked a deep belly laugh.

“True, although they have no fear, opportunistic as they are.” Lody noted.

“That’s what Benny should be, no black wolf, just a greedy gaul.” You teased which made both of you erupt into deep laughter as you smudged and smeared the henna as you tried to quickly wipe it up and clean it before it stained that way.

But you could see, even in this moment, that Lody was fighting as you couldn’t help but feel some sense of dejavu.

“I remember when I first met Demsey, and there was that first interaction and instant attraction. But being in such a polite society. These English men, they like to think they have such high manners, such polite society. It’s pretty words and a show of civility. But pretty words can hide a silver bladed tongue, it can be the same here as it is in the orientals, where your manners are judged just as harshly. But once you find a gentle man who is gentle in any light or shadow, then you have something special. That’s what Demsey has always been, the same man in every light and shadow, he has the same kindness and affection in his eyes and in his touch in private as he does in a ballroom and never once has his touch ever had any hint of harm. Desperation from passion? Absolutely. Love and tenderness? Always. Respect, admiration and adoration? From that first moment on. First impressions are the hardest to break. Please don’t judge Sierge too harshly. He’s suffered and he is not at his best, but I’d gather close to his worst and the fact that he’s persevering and trying to remain composed, says a lot about his character too and yet you are fighting your attraction because your own pride is incensed on Benny’s behalf. I think if your attraction to him stays with you after the henna wears off and if your attraction to him stays long after the henna because your attraction started before the henna was ever a component. Don’t let Benny put a distaste in your mouth for this place or of him, much less his family because you do not want the same from Benny.” You advised.

“Deal, if he will like me enough to approach me at the stables, and never bring up Benny, I’d consider it.” Lody decided.

“Good.” You grinned.

6 notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 149: A Very Frosty Christmas

It looked like a paper chain explosion in here, there was a garden gnome painted solid gold with a tu-tu on top of the tree, and a very annoying song was blasting from a radio, but they all fought back a sob of relief to find themselves in the Burrow's living room. Nothing had nearly tried to kill Harry here!

Most of them landed on the many available couches and chairs, Regulus had smacked against the frost covered window, Remus had nearly landed in the lit fire. Lily was misfortunate enough to nearly have said tree wobble dangerously and nearly crash down on her until Potter was there, supporting its massive weight and getting many decorations in his face as she fell the rest of the way to the floor in exhaustion.

Madam Pomfrey would normally have them all on half a dozen potions to revitalize their energy and doing hourly check ups to make sure there were no ill side effects as well as feeding three square meals a day and making absolutely sure they were getting their rest with zero strenuous activity; getting flung around the universe was the opposite of what all of them needed right now.

Alice rushed over and helped Lily back to her feet as James finished straightening up the tree, trying to guide her towards the kitchen and up the stairs for the rooms, but Lily stubbornly dug in her heels and looked up. The book was resting near the top, it hadn't fallen out of the branches.

"We need to take a break hun," Alice pleaded just as much for her own sanity as her friends.

"I know," she promised, "I don't want to finish, I do not want to leave here yet. Just down to the last few paragraphs...just in case." She visibly exhaled, breathing really was a luxury she didn't indulge in enough.

"Ah," James nodded in understanding, and no one was going to deny her paranoia right now. He jumped without further ado, snatching the silver spine where the little green six was almost invisible amongst the fir needles, but wobbled as he landed and leaned against the tree for support now.

She watched with a heavy heart, had she not managed to heal the rest of his leg?

Shaking it off like nothing had happened, he flipped over the couch and landed next to Sirius, who was still sprawled from his original landing half off as he watched his little brother shake his hair back into place like looking at a photo of himself doing it, one mum and dad would never dream of taking after what he'd just done...Merlin he'd never respected that kid more than right now.

"A Very Frosty Christmas!" Prongs said with all the cheerfulness in the world for the dreary title.

Alice whispered for anyone, "would someone at least like something to eat then? Helps not to sleep on an empty stomach."

"Darling come sit down," Frank pleaded, especially when Lily visibly grimaced and rubbed at her stomach. She still waited until Lily curled up in the warmest chair by the fire and watched maternally as Regulus stumbled to the nearest couch, barely sitting on the edge before going to Frank's arms and listening as Harry recanted to Ron what he'd heard.

At least nothing too memorable in the following bit happened, just some normal Christmas cheer, the Marauders were even too exhausted to react to the fun idea of throwing knives at each other! Even Lupin making another friendly appearance felt like a pleasant thing, at first.

It didn't remain that way when Remus began defending Snape!

James looked up wearily from the book to his Moony sitting on the hearth, his somber look as he gazed into the flickering embers and twiddling with his wand to lower the music from moments ago replaced with one of pure loathing at all Snivilus had done to Harry and Sirius in this future, even Remus himself to some degree. The explanation, that all it had taken was Dumbledore's word and some potion would have sounded pathetic to him if it came from anyone else in the world but one of his best friends, who no longer had anyone in this future.

"Was that all it took to win you over?" Sirius asked, trying very hard not to frown at Moony but instead put in another joke. "All those Animagus years for nothing, just had to get you a bloody potion!"

"Don't say that Padfoot," was all Remus had in him to whisper, clamping his hands so tight in front of him he looked as if he were trying to stop from strangling something, like himself. Sirius and James had always been there for him when it mattered, he must have gone barmy without them!

Sirius finally sat up proper from his wonky position on the couch and kept watching in greater concern as Harry changed the subject by asking what he'd been out doing this whole time.

The answer made said werewolf jump to his feet and watch the book like his pants had been set on fire. "I'm what!" He'd never even met another of his kind, and he was out there living with them! He'd infiltrated and been living with other werewolves?! For how long!? This entire time, away from Sirius and Harry and everyone, all because Dumbledore had told him to?!

Sirius got up uneasily and went to his side, but Remus' angry words from before stopped him from doing anything. 'Privacy' he reminded himself, but it killed him to just stand here and do nothing as Moony watched Prongs read like it was his eulogy in the following deadly silence.

The story proceeded like he was being drowned and set on fire all at once, there was no air in here. He felt more immensely hot and uncomfortable in his skin than any transformation he'd yet suffered. His father had offended the worst of them all and Remus had paid the price. Now he was working under Greyback to try and convince others they had a chance at a decent life when he clearly wasn't even living that.

James couldn't take it anymore, he'd apologize to Evans later. He slammed the book shut and threw it with deadly accuracy, watching it sail out the window into the snow beyond like that would somehow dispel what he was watching his friend go through once more.

"You didn't know?" Alice easily deduced, watching the child in that photo scream as a monster made its minion in real life on his face.

He shook his head slowly in answer and then went outside into the cold December night, slamming the door behind him, the rest of the loose glass fell from the window.

Sirius bolted after him before the first snowflake had even fluttered in, dogging his path and assuring himself when Remus didn't turn around and yell at him to leave he'd done alright this time, he hadn't said or done anything in front of the others so this should be okay, even if it had been just as awful to see Moony like that as it had been Evans. He knew exactly how useless Prongs felt now. It didn't feel right to have done so though, not when Remus had so clearly needed...

He'd barely rounded the low garden wall before he finally whirled around and watched Sirius approach him. The weary look on Padfoot's face peaked his anger at himself, he really was destined to screw up every part of his life from the moment he'd been bitten. He just wanted the noise in his head to stop!

Remus' fingers were already like ice as he reached out and cupped his face, tears of anger or fear Sirius didn't know were frozen in place as he leaned in. He kissed him back with all the warmth in him even as he was pressed into a frozen branch and felt the icicles in his hair.

Moony pulled back still breathing in his face, the wild look only just abated as he spat, "Greyback! I have spent half my life pitying sodding Fenrir Greyback! I'm, what, supposed to be some sort of- no wonder my dad never lets me around anyone! Dumbledore's always kept an eye on me, it's a miracle that mutt hasn't come for me yet! Merlin Sirius, I don't know what to do, I don't want to- I can't-"

It wasn't just a nameless, faceless other like him to feel sorrow for on some accident. He was a pawn in a game he didn't even know was being played!

"You're not going anywhere Remus," Sirius stated, holding his hands in place, despite the fact they still seemed to be getting colder. He was trembling so hard it wouldn't surprise Sirius if he did transform.

"It was bad enough before!" His hot breath on his face was the only alive part of him, the rest of him was still glacially reacting, even he didn't seem to know if he was more afraid of this sudden development or angry at it. "I don't even want to go back anymore Sirius! I know we keep almost dying and shit, but I don't okay! Back there it'll, it'll be-" and he leaned in and kissed him again like he thought it would be his last.

His hands were in that long dark hair he loved so much, if he was hurting Sirius with as feverishly as he pressed into him Padfoot never tried to stop him, only pulled him in closer.

He'd stormed out here with a mad idea of being able to get far enough away he'd travel back in time enough to transform, wishing for it for the first time in his life just to get out of the screams of his youth that echoed in his head. The curse Greyback had set upon him would be the downfall of that monstrosity, he'd never change back until he returned the favor in kind and ripped his throat out!

Not with Sirius along though, he'd never risk having Padfoot in that fight, he would get himself killed. It was a simple fact in his mind then, to keep him pinned like this instead.

Nothing lasts forever.

When the anger was spent and the two watched each other to see what would happen next, Remus begged of him the only thing he could ask in this mess. "Sirius, please- please don't tell James about this," his voice was stuttering, but not from cold. If Padfoot told James, then the dream would be shattered, he couldn't just go back to pretending this would all be okay anymore. If James knew, if anyone else knew, Remus would have to wake up to the reality of this horrible future pressing him from all sides. A secret only worked so long as you didn't have to look at what was being hidden.

Sirius watched him for a long time with such sorrow in his eyes, for him he knew. He just wanted to help. He reached up and touched his neck, but Remus took it in both of his hands.

"I don't understand. Privacy, I know, I really am trying to get it, but- " Sirius sighed, watching Remus crush his hand in both of his and still not pulling away even as miserable as it was clearly making him when he agreed. "I won't tell, but I wish you would Remus, I really do."

The fright stayed at bay, only frozen for now, but he had no delusions that would last this time. Winter came and went like everything, and he'd melt into a puddle without them. He didn't know what to do though, he felt trapped. He never should have indulged this, but it was too late for that! He probably would have exploded long ago if he hadn't had this now.

If he tried pulling back, Sirius noticed and only started asking questions. If he admitted his crush now and Sirius didn't reciprocate in any meaningful way, who knew how awkward and distant he'd get. They'd still be friends, he knew they'd never abandon him for full moons at the very minimum, but like Sirius was only half-heartedly trying with Peter now, and he couldn't live with that!

It might even be better when they got back to school, Sirius would get distracted and maybe Remus could just go back to pretending like this never happened...if he was very, very non observant about where Sirius went with others ever again, and maybe tried seeing other people a bit more...or even kept himself busy hunting down Greyback...the distance would just become natural then. Like all unreciprocated feelings...

Instead he said nothing and just nodded, like he was conveying as much as he could right now he'd get there. He just didn't know where 'there' was. He released Sirius' hand, but Sirius just pulled him back into a hug, not saying a word as Remus buried his face in his neck like he could hide in his hair forever.

Eventually though Moony's shaking got so bad Sirius pleaded in his ear for them to go back inside, which Remus mercifully nodded to. The book had not resumed thankfully, and as Sirius peeked out first he even still saw it sitting right there in the snow. Holding his breath in hope, they crossed back over the threshold in relief to see the others asleep.

There were only three in front of the warm fire. Alice and Frank had gone off to Arthur and Molly's room, Lily to sleep in Percy's, and the other boys to pile around on the many available couches and chairs in here.

James watched Peter and Regulus curl up with many available throw blankets on the couches, but watched Sirius' little brother flip his hair around as he got comfortable and pat down the fluffy arm into a comfortable sort of pillow in mild fascination. It was the opposite of Sirius, who could fall asleep in any position on any surface. James whispered something he knew he'd owed the kid back in the other room. "Thanks, for Evans."

Regulus watched him for a few moments before actually shrugging, like he hadn't started this whole thing wishing them all dead. James couldn't even make the joke he'd done it for his own survival of getting out of here, that had been no self preservation, there had been no mistaking the look on his face. "It's what anyone would have done," he said simply enough as he laid out, like he was pretending he wouldn't be booted from his home for saying such a thing. Was he really that far in denial of how the rest of his lineage was? He was asleep before Peter's soft, self deprecating little noise even registered.

"I know Wormtail," James promised. "I hate myself for not reacting better that time too. What would we have done if we all thought of that though, huh? Started wrestling over the bezoar, maybe accidentally swallowed it ourselves?"

Peter gave a soft little laugh just like he always did, but James could hear how forced it was.

"You ever tell anyone it was you who saved us from the basilisk?" James asked curiously, which was a fat lot more good than he'd ever done.

"Like that's some great thing, being bait," Peter shot back quietly. "About as useful as keeping Moony distracted while you get him off. No, Prongs, I don't think anyone's wanted to remember that giant snake long enough to know or care that detail."

"Don't sell yourself so short mate," he scolded as he kept his eyes on the door but stayed in his own chair upright. "We all need to stay on our toes, and you can get us out of a few scrums the rest of us can't."

Peter didn't entirely agree, getting out wasn't the same as being useful, why Regulus was asking him instead of Sirius about that animagus stuff still boggled his mind. Even as on the outs with his brother as he was, it was unbearably obvious who was still the better at magic, even James had unconsciously known the same even if he was nicer about it. He whispered his thanks to Prongs anyways and fell asleep too.

James removed his glasses but only fought off his itching eyes long enough to see them heading back through the repaired window and slip inside. Sirius grabbed the last few available blankets and whispered something in Remus' ear.

Remus couldn't have protested the offer, not now, as Padfoot cocooned the blanket around them both, while Sirius sat against the warm hearth. His head rested on the inside of Sirius' thigh as he shivered and didn't fight back a sob anymore. Sirius just ran his hand gently up and down his back all night while the snow piled into the repaired windows.

He'd kept telling daddy all week there was a monster looking down through his window, but Lyall would just sleepily give his son a kiss and turn another light on for him as he went back to bed. There were three now plus the one in the hall, but there were still shadowy corners in his room. The darkness moved and crept slowly into a shape. Not quite human, and not quite animal, naked in the bare light of the full moon, skin twitching in anticipation and pleasure as the monster licked his lips, the sores and blood caked into every crease of his hairy face. Remus screamed but the cracking bones drowned him out-

He groaned softly as the arms held him and whispered in his ear before easing off. He didn't know what was said, but he believed it.

The bite did not come, two distinct shapes fought the animal off, back away from him... but there was something wet, dripping on him, blood?

Drip. Drip.

Cracking one blurry eye open, he found himself hugging a pillow on the floor in a cocoon of blankets that still felt warm, but James' smug expression was hovering over him, and his heart thudded in confusion as another warm plop fell on his nose.

"Up and attem Moony! You know I'll sit on you if you don't."

"Why do I put up with you?" He groaned, rolling over and burying his face into the pillow. The next drip hit the back of his neck and he moaned, moving one hand sluggishly to brush at the slightly sticky feeling.

"You mean besides my charms, good looks, and masterful Quidditch skills?" He asked, before continuing said threat and sitting on his back.

Remus groaned louder and muffled a cry for help that went ignored, there was only a slight lull in voices not too far off in the background and a barking laugh. "You're awful at Charms, your hair is a laughing stock, and your humbleness could topple mountains!" He shot back as he tried to wiggle out.

"At least you know not to diss the important details," James nodded in approval as he got up, now offering him a hand.

Remus took it with still scrunched up eyes, finally seeing in his other hand a warm glass of eggnog he was no longer trying to torture him with. His eyes blinked fuzzily for a moment in confusion though as he saw what he had on.

"Got you a present!" James crowed, throwing a partially wrapped gift his face caught.

"Stealing Weasley sweaters now? Have you no shame?" He asked warmly as he unwrapped the maroon one and shrugged it on, it even fit rather well.

"None whatsoever. I told Sirius that would fit," James grinned, "bean pool you two are."

"Unlike yours," he chuckled. The bright pink material was stretched tightly over his shoulders, his arms looked like he'd tapped bits of wood on they were so stiff and wouldn't bend right, the edge would not quite reach his waist as it should. The golden G was stretched comically into something closer to a Q.

"Evans won't be able to keep her eyes off of me!" He said grandly, before wincing a bit and finally dropping some of the enthusiasm. He'd done this as planned, Moony was smiling at the sight of the absurdity. Sirius had certainly been all for it when he'd woken up and seen him still hovering over Remus like he hadn't slept at all. What had come out of his mouth had been pure autopilot and hadn't even occurred to him until now.

"She's alright Prongs," Remus said at once. "I know she'd never hold it against you, nobody saw that coming."

"Yeah," he muttered, watching the door to the noisy kitchen still for several moments before swallowing and making a very painful smile, "first time that woman's ever flirted with me and I get her poisoned. Think that's the cosmic universe telling me to drop it?"

"You did no such thing," Remus said firmly now, sighing in relief when James dragged his eyes back to him. "If Sirius and I had drank that in Slughorn's room, we'd have been dead before anyone even knew what happened. You probably saved all of our lives by being a nosy git Prongs."

He'd winced for the blunt statement, but gave himself a firm shake and a real smile again. "Stop distracting me Moony!" He scolded with a fond clap on the shoulder that made a tear appear under his armpit and steering him towards the others now. "Alice is making a feast in there, and she's threatened if we don't all help, we starve."

"That woman wouldn't let Snape go hungry," he scoffed.

"I wouldn't test her," James chuckled, "she's already at her limit trying to convince Sirius to lift a wand."

"Poor thing has no idea what she's getting herself into," Remus said in genuine pity. Padfoot would eat a meal of grubs before he admitted he had no idea how to do any house-hold spells.

They entered to see she'd found a compromise though. He looked exhausted, but he was utterly delighted to be smashing parsnips the Muggle way and trying not to get any on his blue sweater, also with a golden G imprinted on it that was far too large around the shoulders and bagged under his arms, leaving him having to concentrate with effort. He was doing a remarkably poor job of that and making a great mess.

Peter and Regulus were sitting across from him casually enough with no clear tension in the air as Regulus guided his wand carefully to knead some dough and Peter was cutting up vegetables the Muggle way, stopping occasionally to use a silver sweater as a dishrag, the glint of the golden P on it flashing in and out of focus. Remus' heart twinged why Molly had still bothered for the prat before eagerly jumping in to help, offering to make dessert.

They ate in alternating comfortable quiet and soft mutters. The shock of 'yesterday' still felt heavy in the room, and Sirius cleaned his third plate in record time and could not take any more silence right now. He looked up with every intention of making a joke at Prongs, only for his eyes to land on Evans.

She was running her finger over the rim of her still full drink, a mountain of uneaten food on her plate with barely a bite touched. Alice kept shooting her worried looks and even reached over past Frank at one point to teasingly steal a bit of turkey. Lily had laughed and tried to keep eating, but it was clear her stomach nor heart was really in it.

Sirius slugged back the rest of his own drink, refilled it, and then set it in front of her with a very teasing, "don't worry, I didn't spike it."

She grimaced and felt herself turn a little green around the edges, but sighed when she saw him wince. She knew he'd been trying to make her laugh, but she still felt tender on the inside even looking at the food, let alone anything liquid again.

Frank glowered at him and opened his mouth to say something at her side, even taking his arm off the back of Alice's chair to straighten up, but his girlfriend brushed her nails along his spine in a silent urge to wait. Sirius was trying to help, in his way, and she really hoped it worked as their patient silence hadn't.

Sirius reached over and plucked it away again with a cheerful, "oh I know! You're the Queen of the Slug Club, so you need a royal tester first! How could I forget?" He took a noisy slurp, making sure to let some run down his chin so there's no way he could fake it before setting down the now half empty glass in front of her, and smiled. It softened his features so much it was remarkable.

"As if I want to drink your backwash," she half-heartedly scolded, but Sirius smiled wider to see she'd lost the nauseous look at least as she stared back.

He tipped his feet up on the table and rocked for a few moments as he kept eyeing her, before grinning with that mischievous look she used to loath so much. He let himself fall back to all fours then and leaned in conspiratorially now, "bet you a shot of it I can make Peter laugh with just one word."

Evans pursed up her lips, but he'd guessed right. She could not resist a challenge. Guess she was a bit like Prongs. "Alright," she finally agreed.

Sirius was grinning in triumph already as he turned with maddening timing, Wormtail had just started taking a sip of his own drink as Sirius shouted, "Spoons!"

The poor guy coughed and spluttered half his drink out his nose and down his front, the rest of the glass ruined the sweater. Even as Regulus thumped him on the back and offered him napkins with a disgruntled look, it was clear to all Peter was laughing mirthlessly.

"Padfoot!" He moaned while rubbing at his face. "You swore you'd stop doing that!"

"Eggnog was not in the terms of our agreement!" He happily barked back.

"Add it to the list you arse!" He snickered.

Lily cursed softly, she should have known better, but turned back to him very curiously, "you swear that's not some old hex on him?"

"On my wand," he said at once, crossing his heart. "Marauders swear!"

"Then what's the joke?" She finally asked with a bit of a giggle.

"Uh uh, pay up first," he tapped the drink. "The story's worth another shot."

She sighed, swallowed her sense of disgust for the feeling of anything going down her throat again, and picked up the glass while meeting his eyes. Fighting back a gag, she threw it in her mouth, forced the rich flavor to sit on her tongue for a visible moment, and down the hatch it went. She exhaled and tried not to look at anybody as the tension began easing out of the room, she really hadn't thought the others noticed.

"Atta girl," he beamed. "Round two?"

"Yes, alright," she agreed at once this time.

Sirius threw his shoulders back with pride as he took off, "okay, so Christmas time last year right? We were still working on our Animagus bits, and Prongs here got his antlers stuck on his head, happened all the time, but we had Quidditch practice and he was trying really hard to get them back away. Wormtail though got the bright idea to dare challenge me to try decorating them in the meantime! I couldn't let that stand!"

"He's being literal," James nodded with a resigned sigh. "I think he'd explode otherwise." He paused with an odd look on his face, but Sirius grinned at him as always for the add in, nothing like extra details to make a story!

"So we start running around the room grabbing everything we could to put on him, socks and shit, Pete starts jabbing old homework assignments on him like mock papier-mâché while James is cursing us blue in the face, but I grabbed up," he paused for dramatic effect. They were all smiling in anticipation now. "A spoon! So, couldn't just chuck it, that wouldn't be any fun-"

"Oh the horrors," James interrupted lightly, crossing his arms and making a visible tear line on both sleeves which he didn't even seem to notice.

"And I couldn't magic it on, that would be cheating!"

"Something he's never done on his life," James smirked.

"So I licked it, and it actually stuck to the fuzzy bits!"

He preened in delight as the seven of them all got a laugh at that mental image. Lily obligingly sipped her drink once more, but Sirius wasn't quite done. "Peter laughed hysterically, I can't even describe it right, he pissed himself and it was glorious!"

"Did you have to add that bit," he protested back. "Two shots says I can get them all to laugh at the time you got fleas!"

Sirius spluttered in protest, but Lily shushed him and watched with delight. The game escalated, they started piling the last of the food into one bowl to make a huge mess of turkey and pudding and daring others to eat it if they laughed at the next story. James was so enthusiastic while telling about Moony meeting a centaur he ripped Ginny's sweater entirely and had to shrug on Fred's before they'd let him finish. It fit him even worse than Sirius and seemed to swallow him whole and he did not care. They all failed miserably and ate the concoction, which wasn't arguably that bad.

All full and laughing now, Remus finally gave Sirius a soft kick to get him to stop that and volunteered to go back to the book with only the barest hint of unease still in his voice. Sirius still didn't get up until after he and James did and fought the urge to put his hand on Moony's back as he went after them.

They lounged semi-comfortably once more under blankets in front of the fire, and Remus still made no real protest as he sat under the same blanket with him, backs on the wall right next to the fire while James went outside to fetch the book. Sirius had resisted the urge to throw his arm over the back of the chair half the meal as they got comfortable and been discreet with his hand on his knee, petting gently with only his finger tips. James had noticed no such thing on his other side, eyes still on Evans even as he tried to actively pretend otherwise now.

He let his hand creep gently, the thick blanket made it non-obvious he was sure, aware of every movement, but nobody was purposely looking at them. It was a miracle none of them had asked any further questions, and whether it was lingering awkwardness or pity neither of them were going to ask as Sirius put his hand gently back on his leg.

Remus made a huffy little noise, but it was that indulgent sigh he always used right before he added into their prank as he grabbed Sirius' hand, but held it this time so Sirius couldn't start up again. It had been soothing at first, but then putting ungentlemanly thoughts in his head the longer it went on, and he didn't really buy the others would let them just casually go snog out in the snow again.

Sirius gave a remorseless grin and happily interwove their fingers. Then he saw Alice and Frank doing the same thing and pulled his hand back with a quick apology, earning a bizarre look. Shit, he still had no idea what boundaries Remus was after, and he'd never spent this much time around someone after so much repeated physical intimacy. Remus bunched up the blanket around them and stretched uncomfortably, they only had moments left as Prongs came back in dusting snow off the book and himself as he leaned in and whispered, "alright?" Touching his hand to be clear, though he'd crossed his arms with an aggrieved look so he was probably an idiot for asking. It was the only comfort he could still think to offer him though.

He received a spectacular snort for his efforts and Remus actually smiling as James flipped to the chapter while he said, "yes Padfoot," perfectly normally, turning his palm to meet him with his own curious amusement.

"Just checking," he muttered as Remus shifted again, the blanket barely moving with him as he dropped his arms and held his hand under it again with a delighted smile.

He hadn't protested when Sirius did this at Hermione's place, but he'd been so annoyed back in the apothecary when he'd casually touched him then, and he was starting to get a headache keeping track of when this was and wasn't allowed. Did a door have to be closed? That's when he was most comfortable. He had not liked the way Moony had talked out in that garden, a distance he kept trying to intermittently instill between them or something else altogether, but he couldn't ask now.

Sirius burned to ask if Remus was ashamed to be with him in that way, but feared asking would only make Remus fluently deny it and pull away further, something that felt intolerable to him now.

James had reacted right before his son had spoken up, so the very first thing he read was Harry unintentionally and almost repeating one of their very many werewolf jokes, his son practically saying Moony's furry little problem, and then Professor Lupin getting a good laugh out of it. The Marauders got a particularly cheerfully snicker for that one at least.

"And nobody really questions that?" Frank finally asked in amusement. He admittedly hadn't before everything as well, but they'd been dealing with a lot.

"I know I never thought about them long enough to do so," Lily shrugged. "Far as I know, nobody in the common room thinks twice about it."

"You're not exactly the social butterfly though Evans," Sirius cheerfully reminded. She flipped him the bird, and he laughed so hard the blanket started to fall from his shoulders and he didn't even twitch to put it back up.

"Peter keeps an ear out if anyone does look twice," Remus half heartedly explained the rest.

It still wasn't comfortable to any of the four of them to be explaining this, it had been their secret for too long to feel natural, but sharing so many of their stories had helped ease that away, and nobody asked for more. Thankfully the subject was changed to a horrible dream being the last of the real unpleasantness. Then Harry woke up to presents, with Ron getting a remarkable necklace from Lavender, and what should have been a nice meal before Percy and the Minister showed up.

That did not go well, and they all shifted and grumbled unpleasantly for the Ministry still trying to use Harry as some sort of poster boy after all he'd been through last year. James finished with an ugly twist of his lips even as he cheered for his son getting the final word in.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #HBP #Weasley Chirstmas #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #all in the family

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clinioelerrante · 3 years

Text

The house elf

Lovingly dedicated to the director @divagonzo and participants of romioneficfest 2021 ( @romioneficfest ) posted on Tumblr.

Finally, in English.

All my appreciation to @headcanonsandmore, without whose help the realization of this translation would have been impossible.

He did an OUTSTANDING job revising the original, something I can never thank him enough for. Any errors or inaccuracies in the text will be my fault, not his.

Even after reading @headcanonsandmore's annotation and, because the text is basically the interaction between a male character and an elf, I will using using he/his/him would perhaps have given the text a lack of freshness, as it was continually making 'notations' to clarify which of them is speaking. I hoped this would make it easier for the reader. I apologise if this may offend anyone in any way.

The home elf

When the first rays of sunlight broke through the windows of Grimmauld Place, the sapphire eyes of Ronald Weasley greeted them open.

He hadn’t slept much that night and there was a good reason for that. In a few hours Hermione, Harry and himself would infiltrate the Ministry to try to obtain Slytherin’s locked.

The first of the Horcruxes they must locate and detsroy brought with it the real meaning of what they were getting into and the terrible dance that they would be facing from them on.

Not that he had been unaware of it before, but he had always felt protected under Dumbeldore’s magic and presence. It was the attack on his own home that reminder him what that protection was over.

Just once, he had felt like this. So exposed, so vulnerable, so insignificant, so useless and scared. It was when Hermione had been injured in the Department of Mysteries. If it were up to him, he would have hidden Hermione with her parents on the other side of the world. This was a nice dream to find solace in but he was aware that without her, the mission would be doomed to failure.

The night when the first lights of dawn were coming to an end had been a constant succession of lucid nightmares in which he had envisioned the thousand and one dreadful fates they might face once they passed through the Ministry’s atrium, and all but two of these nightmares had as their protagonist a witch with thick bushy hair and chocolate-coloured eyes.

For a moment, resentment against Harry nested in Ronald Weasley’s heart. He had no problem sharing the fate of his best friend. If Harry asked him, Ron would be able to go down to hell with one hand tied behind his back, which in fact was exactly what he was about to do! Ron wasn’t stupid. The experience of previous years had given him a realistic perspective of the war. The price that was paid day by day and the price that was still to be paid, but that price should not include a stubborn witch who was wise, crazy and with a mouth he wanted to kiss. Harry should have insisted and forbid her to endanger herself by traveling with them.

As if you or he could have stopped her! A voice whispered in the back of his head causing a hint of a smile to play on the redhead’s lips as images of a platinum blonde ferret getting a superb punch to the nose replayed in his mind.

Besides, you know that if it weren’t for her, you’d both be perfectly dead and He-who-not-to-be-named would be walking the land of Merlin long before.

A brief growl escaped Ron’s smile at the thought that the little voice seemed to have the echo of a too familiar ‘I told you so’.

Even so, he could not refute that claim. Had it not been for Hermione and her prodigious beaded bag, their situation at this very moment might have been very different. They would not have had the supplies to survive until they had reached the Sirius’s residence and had been able to carry out all the surveillance of the ministry...

A thunderous grumble from his stomach put an end to all that introspection.

"I wonder how she’s arranged the food thing? She’s been reminding me of Gamp’s laws for six bloody years," he muttered as he sat up.

Knowing that he was unable to stay in bed for even minute longer, and hoping to calm his nerves and nightmares with a good cup of tea, he started towards the kitchen when he found the light leaking under the door of the room in which he had left Hermione the night before.

This had not ended in one of their famous arguments because he had preferred to bite his tongue rather than go to bed with both of them angry at each other, but he had been very close to grabbing her by the hip, throwing her over his shoulder, and throwing her over the nearest bed to force her to sleep, when she insisted on staying awake, going going over the details of infiltrating a Ministry dominated by Voldemort to the point of exhaustion. The rage he had barely managed to control returned with full force when he realised that she had to keep working on it.

With typical Weasley outburst, he burst into the room ready to end this madness and force her to rest for the few hours that remained, when he froze in the doorway while all the anger that had once made his blood boil evaporated as if it had never been.

Under the flickering candlelight, a sound-asleep Hermione, rested her head on a book on the theory of magic and a countless number of scrolls scribbled with diagrams and plans of the Ministry.

Ron needs to lean against the doorjamb when he feels his legs turn to jelly as he watches the flickering candlelight catch infinite shades of copper from the petite witch’s hair, how, despite the small trickle of drool that escapes from between... Oh, merlin; her lips! They look softly pink and absolutely adorable. The long lashes, blessing eyes that would be able to get anything from him just by looking lovingly at him, and the seven little freckles she has on her nose. He never told her, but he learned the configuration of the constellation Orion when he saw it perfectly represented on that little nose. But above all that, what touches his heart is to see the look on her face completely relaxed, as if for a moment, sleep has blessed her with a few hours of peace, oblivious to all the madness that has been raging around her.

For a moment he tempted to take her in his arms and take her to a bed where she rest properly. H is arms tingle at the mere thought of touching her, but he knows that if she wakes up, she will insist on continuing her crazy review, losing the little rest she so desperately needs, something he will not deny her. Although a part of his heart cries out for the set image of indulging in what has so far been only one of his craziest dreams like taking her to a marriage bed like a bride, the rest of her whole being makes him close the door slowly while casting a soundproofing spell her to prevent any noise from disturbing her sleep.

Only then, as he resumed his journey to the kitchen, does he allow himself to wonder. When she became so important to him? What at point did she become his whole world?

Surprisingly he couldn’t find a specific moment. Somehow, Hermione had been infiltrating his heart without him being fully aware of the stealthy invasion. Evidently, he had realized that what he experienced in the fourth year was a storm of jealousy, so big! That seemed to have turned his brain into jelly and incapable of thinking. But only when he faced the possibility of losing her at the end of fifth year did, he realized the “the sheer extent” of emptiness his had inside if she wasn’t in his life.

And while his mind is lost in the memories of a bossy little girl who scoldes him for having a dirty nose, with a young girl who looks amazing meanwhile she glides majestically through the great dining room with the hand of a pumpkin-headed arse with a ridiculous goatee; Ron finds himself in the kitchen just as he sees the old Sirius’ home elf, stirring between pots and pans, probably anticipating the housework of the day that begins with breakfast for the three tenants of the old Black House, while the Regulus’ locket hangs around it neck.

Well. Not ‘Sirius’’. It’s Harry’s elf now, he rectifies in his mind as he remembers that Harry’s godfather had been the biggest victim of that fateful night...

“Good morning, master”, the broken voice of the old servant interrupts the thoughts that again caused a shudder in his spine. “Perhaps Master Weasley woke up too early? Can Kreacher help his lordship with a cup of tea? ”

“Yes, Kreacher. Please.” He thinks he’ll never get used to the elf’s sensitive ears. Somehow, the little servant always seems to sense what is happening around him, even if it was turning its back on him at the time. Ron’s heart still comes out of his chest when he remembers the time he sneaked into the kitchen looking for something to eat at midnight, and when he closed the cupboard door, he found a pair of bulging eyes within an inch of his face staring suspiciously at him.

“Master would like something more substantial to go with his tea?”

Ron has not gone unnoticed by the change that had taken place in the Elf’s attitude since Harry had given it the Regulus’ locket. Its previous hostility towards Harry had turned into a quasi-devotion after that small act of kindness. He wondered, what would have happened to Kreacher, if all of Hermione’s ideas about S.P.E.W. and dealing elves with dignity and kindness had been applied by Sirius? Perhaps the tormented elf wouldn’t have found the flaw that allowed it to alert the Deatheater. In a twisted way, the last of the Black had forged his fate by treating his servant miserably.

Then, perhaps, he thought, Sirius could have stayed alive and Harry could have had a real family, where he could have felt the love and warmth of a real home.

“Master?”

“No Kreacher, thank you very much”, he replies kindly and with a smile when he returned to the present. Here is another one of Hermione’s crazy ideas for the magical world and which, however, she is right; he thought. “Tea will be enough.”

"As Master Weasley wishes. Should I to prepare breakfast for the other guests, perhaps?" A furry eyebrow rose with doubt.

“I don’t know. Have either of them woken up?” Ron wasn’t about to let either of them lose moments of sleep, so he considered finding out what his friends’ current situation was first before the elf mistakenly interpreted that it was time to wake them both up.

“Master Potter is still asleep, though he hasn’t stopped hanging around in bed and grumbling all night,” Kreacher seemed to know where Ron’s thoughts were headed, “as for the mudblood...”

“DON’T EVER! NEVER! YOU WILL NEVER CALL HER THAT AGAIN, KREACHER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DON’T EVER!”

Ron was not even aware of his reaction, until he saw the terrified eyes of the elderly elf as he lifted his arms in an attempt at self-protection.

He was unaware that the chair on which he was sitting slammed against the wall when he stepped abruptly, nor of his agitated breathing, nor how his fist looked white like snow leaning on the table, nor of how he had projected his body towards the elf like the wolf that stalks its prey.

Ron had not been aware of any of it, until he saw an elderly house elf, trembling with terror and with the certainty of supreme punishment in his eyes. That’s when a cascade of revelations is triggered in his mind, like if they had always been there, only now they seem to fit perfectly together.

To see how a being, with a magic infinitely more complex and more powerful that human wizards is so shackled by his social conditioning and fear, to the point to be unable to react even only to save its own life or the lives of its own, to become less than vermin in the eyes of it oppressors. And as he gazes into the terrified eyes of the elf, before her mind’s eye is the image of other eyes. The sweet chocolate eyes full of love and compassion for any living thing of a girl with big front teeth, who wears a hideous S.P.E.W. badge on her chest and that makes him feel so vile, unworthy and miserable that he feels nauseous of himself.

“Kreacher,” his voice sounded harsher than he intended with the try to control the gags that haunt him, causing the elderly shudder before him.

“Kreacher,” he repeated, this time with much more warmth. “Please, have a seat.”

The elf is so scared that it went like the victim of the ‘Imperius’ curse, to the nearest chair to sit, ignoring all the social conditioning that prevents it to sitting under the presence of a wizard.

“Kreacher,” Ron took a deep breath, as if he wanted to draw from the air the inspiration he needed to face the task before him. “I’m sorry; please forgive me. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, or frightened you.”

If previously the elf’s expression was one of absolute terror, it was replaced by one of utter shock.

“Is… Is Master apologizing to Kreacher?” Its voice sounded like a frog’s and his eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets as the thought finally pierced its skull.

“Yeah. You see,” the redhead graded his hair trying to focus. He had a difficult problem before him. On the one hand, he couldn’t put into crisis all the old servant’s beliefs at the stroke of a pen. That would only cause the elf to close itself to listen to him, but on the other hand, he had to make it see or at least consider, the abomination of belittling the mere existence of a sorcerer for the simple fact of his magical origin. “I didn’t mean to hurt or frighten you. Just don’t use that word again when you mean Miss Granger. She really doesn’t deserve it. ”

The elf’s stupor had not disappeared, but a glimmer of curiosity appeared in its gaze.

“Look, I know how all that purity of blood crap goes, but I’m asking you to disregard it for once, okay?” Kreacher’s face implied without a shadow of a doubt/beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t understanding a word Ron was trying to explain.

“Kreacher. Imagine for a moment that you didn’t know Miss Granger’s origin. That you didn’t know her at all, and that the first time she had set foot in this house, instead of appearing in Muggle clothes and accompanying a handful of outlaws and bloog-traitors, she would have come at the hand of Master Regulus, dressed with fop’s elegant tunics and looking absolutely beautiful and relaxed, as if this had been her social environment all her life.”

“Master Weasley,” the elf looks absolutely desolate, “Kreacher can’t do that. Kreacher can sense the magic of the wizards. Its origin, its intensity. It is impossible that Kreacher would not have realized that she had been a charlaton.”

Ron felt his jaw clench and his back tended to stiffen with pure stiffness as he heard it refer to Hermione as a fake. Getting his point across seemed like an impossible mission. The elf’s behaviour seemed to be conditioned by the first impression of perceiving the origins of a wizard’s magic in conjunction with all its training. Once the conditioning of a lifetime, nay, a whole dynasty, intervened! There was no room to look at anything else....

“… Anything else…” he whispered, “Anything else. There is no second chance.” Ron’s eyes opened like plates.

“Is Master right?“ Kreacher had left the chair and cautiously approached the wizard who seemed unconcerned.

“There is no second chance,” he whispered again, and on his face appeared the smile and glow in her eyes that her opponents in chess they knew so well. “KREACHER! ”

The unsuspecting elf jumped backwards so much that stumbled upon the chair it had previously occupied and began to stumble with its own feet until the fall proved imminent, only to be taken in scooped up and gently placed on its original chair by freckled and plenty scarred arms.

“Are you okay, Kreacher? Ron’s voice had genuine concern. It was not only because of the continual jolts to which he was subjecting the old heart of the weak elf and the fear of destroying any bridge of understanding that might have been created between the two, but that he might have really suffered some injury.

“What did the master just do?” The elderly’s eyes were locked on Ron’s.

“I... I, I’m sorry Kreacher. I’m not good at mastering my impulses. I didn’t mean to scare you again.” Ron’s eyes turned to the ground as shame flooded him again. It was the second time he had frightened the elf. It was only logical that it would never trust him again. Any chance to make it understand the human greatness of the curly-haired witch had gone out the window thanks to his blatant and never well-measured combination of stupidity and impulsivity... “Shit!“ He moaned.

“Did Master help Kreacher?” its eyes widened like saucers. “Master protected Kreacher!”

“Errr...? “ Ron’s face was the manifestation of absolute astonishment.

“Master protected Kreacher! He didn’t forbid Kreacher to punish itself, no. He protected it.” Ron’s face clearly showed that he still did not understand what the servant was telling him. “Only Master Regulus did something similar once.”

“Hermione does it all the time” Oh Merlin! If that’s not a good opening, I don’t play chess.

“What?” Poor Kreacher looked as if it was being carried away by a stream of revelations that prevented it from being able to structure its thinking properly. It had been days since a half-blood Master who it hated had given it the treasure that had belonged to the best Master a house elf could wish for, at the same time forbidding it to punish itself even when it had betrayed him and alerted his enemies. Kreacher knew that it was a mere technicality that it could justify its actions on the basis of Master Harry’s vague instructions. Kreacher was aware that any action taken by a house elf that could directly or indirectly harm his master, could be severely punished, even with life and, in any case, a master did not need much justification to punish his servant if he chose to do so. Now a pureblood had used his own body to protect it, he had apologised for his action and was now letting it know that a mudblood was in the habit of protecting other house elves all the time. Its brain could not quite take it in and the question had slipped from his lips unconsciously.

“Ms. Hermione does it all the time. She loves every magical creature. She’s not worried about its origin. She always says it’s the actions that give greatness, not the origin. Kreacher, is it true that you can sense magic?“ He asked hopeful.

“Kreacher can, master.”

“And is it true that you can feel the intensity of a wizard’s magic, Kreacher?”

The elf nods.

“Then: How do you perceive the power of Miss Hermione’s magic?

The elf blinked, as if had never stopped to properly evaluate that point.

“Magic is very strong with her. Kreacher can remember only one witch with such intense magic, though the muggleborn witch’s might be stronger.”

“Who was the witch, Kreacher?”

“IS. Lady Lestrange, Bellatrix.”

An icy finger runs down the Weasley’s youngest son’s back cutting off his breath.

“She’s nothing like Bellatrix, Kreacher,” Ron can feel, almost physically, as if his heart is being squeezed out of his life. “Hermione has sweet eyes, full of curiosity and affection. They don’t exude hatred and madness like that motherfucker,” there is a dull anger growing in Ron. A roaring fire of anger, fear and hatred.

“It was she, the one who tortured Neville’s parents to madness. Two purebloods whose only sins were to defend innocents people who had never harmed anyone or anything from her madness and hatred. It is people like her who are responsible for Neville and Harry not having parents. It is people like her who drag sensitive people like Regulus down a path from which there is no return Kreacher. It’s people like her who bring pain and suffering into the world just because they think they are superior to everyone else,” he says as he tries to pull himself together.

“The point, Kreacher, is: Hermione...” there is genuine passion, there is a palpable devotion in every word that comes out of his mouth... “not only she is the most brilliant, studious and beautiful witch of this generation, but she is the best person you can imagine. That she’s a witch is a fucking blessing because, instead of the Muggles being the ones who have the opportunity to benefit from her privileged intelligence, her bravery, her desire for justice and her infinite love for any creature, it’s the magical world that has that opportunity because of “He-who-must-not-be-named” and People like Bellatrix, we’re being assholes refusing to accept that gift and all that magic that far surpasses the rest of the three of us and...”

“That’s wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

“Her magic is not the most powerful of the three of you.” The elf’s narrow eyes remain nailed into the ocean of the youngest of Weasley’s men, like if they were contemplating something only they can see.

“Right. Obviously Harry has to be a hell of a wizard if he has to face the Dark Lord”, he says, looking away from the elf as he feels a pinch of envy in his heart for not being good enough and losing missing the surprised look Kreacher gives him, “but I’m sure her magical power must be very much like Harry...”

It is then when the emotional teaspoon that is Ronald Weasley is aware of how this crucial game of chess is unfolding.

Kreacher himself has just breached its own defence when the idea of a muggleborn can be as powerful as the most abominable Deatheater in the host of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But that is not enough. That may have shocked its brain, but to win the game, to truly win it, Hermione must win the heart of the tormented being.

“She’s the smartest witch I’ve ever met, to the point where not even that smug git Snape, someone who enjoys making everyone look like fool , has been unable to keep her from scoring less than Outstanding on all his tests.” He proudly recalls all the times Hermione managed to get a pure curl of irritation out of the pitiful professor. One for every time she gave him the right answer even when that wasn’t the lesson of the day. "Continuously defeats any pureblood by doing a magic they aren’t even capable of dreaming of. By sheer intelligence she solved a lethal riddle in her first year and in her second she brewed an NEWT level potion that only master alchemists are capable of performing, discovered a fucking basilisk crawling through the castle’s pipes and survived an encounter with the damn thing using a simple hand mirror."

Ron can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine when he remembers the image of a little girl in a bed too big for her, stiff, limp and cold as snow. It was then that he realized there was something different about Hermione. He didn’t know what it was, but something was bloody wrong with him if she got hurt.

“You should see her when she’s studying, Kreacher. She’s quite a sight to behold. When she’s studying a particularly difficult subject she frowns adorably, her eyes sparkle with determination and she leans over whatever she’s reading so hard she looks like she wants to get inside the book and when she’s about to master all that new knowledge, she bites her bottom lip so hard I sometimes fear she’s going to hurt herself, but there’s an immense joy in her gaze. Just like when she is reading something she particularly likes. Then, she starts playing with one of her crazy curls by twisting it around her finger. I think she must be the only person in the world who flirts with a book while reading it,” there have been so many times watching her study in the library that Ron doesn’t even need to concentrate to conjure up such images. They are so deep in Ron’s heart that they are already a part of him, and the memory of them brings a smile to his freckled face.

“She is also courageous, determined, and just, like the day she shook a superb punch at the ferret’s nose in her third year...”

“Did she hit a ferret?” The elf’s jaw dropped as listened to the redhead.

"What do you mean...?" Ron’s initial surprise is quickly replaced by wide eyes as comprehension washes over him, given way to a thunderous laugh. "Not at a ferret, Kreacher. ‘The Ferret one.’ She gave a fucktastic punch to the only and genuine heir to Malfoy’s House," he completes with a chuckle meanwhile he watches the poor elf’s eyes pop out of their sockets as it imagines how she attacked a renowned pureblood with something as mundane as a punch to the nose. "Oh come on, Kreacher! That was great and she looked awesome. Besides...” his face suddenly turns serious as he looks at the elderly servant who still doesn’t seem to have come out of its stupefaction. “She was only defending an innocent creature from a spoiled child willing to gloat over its death just because it hurt his self-centred pride. She spent sleepless nights searching through old treatises of magical law for some way to save the life of a creature that wasn’t even human. Only because it was the right thing to do. Only because it was innocent.” A weight settles on Ron’s soul when he remembers that she was alone all those nights and he wasn’t there to help her.

“I’ve seen her support for her best friend and almost lose her life for it even knowing that he was wrong,” the lump in his throat threatens to keep him from talking. “I have seen her risk losing that same friendship just to protect him, and I have seen her be taken for eccentric or crazy just to defend that creatures like you, should be treated with dignity, regardless of race and origin.”

In his troubled speech, Ron feels the moisture flood his eyes and he wipes it away by running his sleeve over his face, unaware of how the elf has cocked its head slightly to one side and is watching him intently.

“She is also kind, sweet and loving.” The weight of his heart disappears when a warmth envelops him. “At eleven years old and not knowing him at all, she helped the shyest, most insecure guy look for his lost pet. Even if she wasn’t a prefect, she was always willing to take first-year tadpoles under her wing, to look after them and guide them when they were stunned by how great Hogwarts is. She helps them find their way around the castle, helps them complete their homework, hugs them when they miss their parents and tells them incredible stories that only she knows from the thousand and one books she has read,” she says as her eyes sparkle with pride in her best friend, “and she will do it with each and every one of them. To all of them she will give her incredible intelligence and her boundless love regardless of any other condition”.

That’s when he realizes that Kreacher is staring at him with its eyes and mouth wide open, like if it can’t believe what it’s seeing.

“Errr... ahem... This... This doesn’t mean she doesn’t have flaws, she does. She has a temper worthy of an explosive potion,” he says as he rubs his tingling arms, “So many times she’s so convinced she’s right, she forgets that the people concerned also have a say for themselves. Like that time when as prefect she sent extra homework to the OWLs students because she thought they weren’t preparing them,” a smile creeps onto his face. “Kreacher, you should have seen when McGonagall found out. She asked her if she wanted her position as head of Gryffindor house and Hermione turned so red she looked like a real Weasley.”

He doesn’t know why he said it, but as soon as he finishes saying it, the image of the most beautiful Hermione, dressed in a flowing white satin robe at the beginning of a hallway and holding a small bouquet in her hands, suffices that her heart seems to have lost the ability to beat properly.

“Kreacher”, he says softly looking at the elf with the intensity of one who is trying to convey the most important message of his life and fears that his words will fail him, “It’s not that she wants to offend you. Not you or the rest of the house elves when she wants to give you freedom. Freedom is a divine gift, yes, but it’s like a good roast rib. It may be tasty and crunchy, a fucking delight to the palate, but you can’t force it through a baby’s gullet. That way all you can do is to kill him with almost complete certainty.”

“It is simply that she loves you too much. She loves you so much, she loves every creature in Merlin’s green fields so much that, she cannot wait to give you what you all deserve. That is why she is wrong. She does not yet see that you are not ready for freedom, “he says to the servant’s curious gaze.“ No... I don’t mean to belittle you, the house elves, I mean, “he completes in a stammer, raising his hands in peace. But it is true nonetheless. Freedom frightens you, it breaks the scheme of things and the rules of your world. She cannot see it yet, Kreacher, but in time she will, and you will have no better ally and no better friend than she.”

“Is that her greatest flaw, Master?" It seems impossible, but Ron would be willing to swear to Merlin that the elf is leaning towards him as he looks deep into his blue eyes, as if it wants to discover something hidden deep within the troubled red-head.

“Well, not really," a sad smile creeps across his freckled face. “She has a pitiful interest in pumpkin-headed wizards with horrible accents and pompous nasties too full of themselves, as long as they’re great quidditch players."

“Still, Master is very impressed by Lady Granger.” The elf’s eyes are practically flashing before him and yet Ron can’t find a shred of contempt, mockery or hostility in his voice, if anything... recognition? And then something breaks in Ron when he realizes that the little bastard has just called her ‘Lady’ for the first time.

“So much that I would gladly give my own life so that she would have a full and happy magical life. Away from all the horror and war, away from the absence of her parents and the fear of being killed at any moment just because they are Muggles. Even if she was married…” his voice breaks,” she was married to either of those two bloody gits and their kids were...

Maybe it’s from years of involuntary training trying to save his life or their other two very best friends, maybe it’s from the keen senses of a quidditch keeper or maybe it’s just instinct, but Ron feels a tingling on his back on his neck, a feeling of a presence behind him just before he hears the crackling of the wood of the floor behind him and Ron can see how, for a moment, Kreacher’s eyes abandon his own eyes and turn to the space behind the redhead to open like plates when they focusing one specific point behind him. It may be again for all those years lurking around death, for all the trainings that have sharpened your reflexes or just warrior instinct, but without waiting to the command of his brain, he right hand goes to his wand, his body shrink to minimize as target and he moves around looking for a twist to shield midway between the servant and the place where the sound came from and, when he does, he does it in such a natural way, so instinctive, that seems that protecting a little body was often his only goal in life. And it’s when his head is close to complete the turn that will lead him to face the threat, when he feels a rough hand holding his wrist tightly enough to unbalance it and stop the rotation of his body. Even so, the arm with his wand continues its trajectory to point to the space that a few moments ago was behind him and one nonverbal ‘Protego’ unfolds from it while her eyes search for the owner of the hand that has stopped his movement to meet, face to face, with other eyes. Bulging, wrinkled eyes, gazing intently at him and glowing with the light of understanding.

“Master loves her.”

“With all that I am and with all that I will be, Kreacher. With so much intensity, it hurts. It hurts as much as hell itself.”

It is not a question. It is a truth revealed and as such it can no longer be shrouded in the shadows nor can it be denied, but needs to be proclaimed because it can no longer be contained.

And the elf nods. Once again, her eyes turn to the space behind Ron as he feels that the prey that the little character exerted on his arm gives way, allowing him to regain full mobility. That’s when Ron turns his head to face whatever is behind him just for his eyes can see an empty door.

“This damned house and its creepy noises are going to drive me bloody mad”, he says as his shoulders sink as all the tension he has been building up escapes from him.

“She didn’t know”, he murmurs. “Master hasn’t told Lady Granger.” Kreacher ignores the insult to Black’s ancestral meanwhile its inquisitive eyes turn to the tormented redhead.

“No, Kreacher. Not yet, and I can’t do it now. What’s at stake is too important and much bigger than us”, he says, shaking his head, as if he was trying to get some thoughts out of his brain and clear his own ideas. “When I confess to her and she tells me she doesn’t share my feelings, I’d have nothing left to fight for except to keep them both safe and sound, and leave if we win them. And if by some miracle she shared them, I couldn’t fulfill that mission. I could endanger Harry because when it came to protecting them, she would always be my priority.”

It is when the rays of sunshine flood the old kitchen that Ron realizes how far the morning has gone and the dreaded moment has come. It’s time to complete the final preparations to infiltrate the Ministry. With a snort of resignation, he heads for the door to wake up her friends when he feels the elf’s hand again on his arm, only in this case it is a gentle grip. Very similar to the touch of a friend who’s just trying to get your attention.

“No”, he says in a calm but determined tone. “Kreacher will take care of waking up the rest of the wizards.”

“No. Kreacher must to insist. Master Harry and fellows have a long day ahead.” The little servant surrounds the tall figure of Gryffindor’s old guardian while gently pushing him towards a chair in front of the large kitchen table. “Master Weasley will finish his tea and then Kreacher will return so that all of them can have a proper breakfast.”

Resigned to the now familiar elderly elf’s stubbornness, Ron nods and takes a seat in the chair as he lifts his cup of tea to his lips and watches it leaves the kitchen.

As soon as it has crossed the threshold of the door, the last servant of the ancient and honourable Black House turns towards the bedrooms, passing by the figure who leans against the wall, tries to keep herself hidden into the shadows while holding her hands over her face, trying to silence the desperate sobs that make her small body shake all over.

“Now Lady Granger knows”, it whispered as it turned to face the young woman.

Between sobs and shudders, a slight nod of her head is her only response.

“Perhaps it is time Master Weasley knew too."

The elf’s voice sounds firm, but there is a decided edge of pleading in it.

A head full of curls sharply denies, sending the wild locks flying in all directions, while the hands covering the face wipe away the tears that run down it.

“It is not possible, Kreacher. Like Ron said, the stakes are too high. Much higher than the two of us, and I can’t let Harry stop being Ron’s priority. Without Harry, there’s no future for anyone. Without Harry there’s no future for both of us.”

“Master Harry is not the most powerful magician under the roof of this house”, says the elf as if it had not heard the prodigious witch’s answer as its eyes turn to the kitchen door.

“I know,” she says in a sob as a sad smile insinuates over a face that is once again, streaked with tears and whose eyes focus on the same point the elf is looking at as if she expects to be able to see the redhaired man on the other side of it at any moment.

“However”, Kreacher’s eyes now turn fixedly to Hermione’s eyes, “he is not the most self-confident wizard either.”

“I know that too, and I curse myself every day for what I have contributed to his self-loathing.” The girl’s eyes briefly meet the elf’s and then search the threshold of the kitchen again, like has unwittingly become the border between the will and the duty." But we’ll both have to wait Kreacher," and her eyes, now full of fire, meet the elf’s again. "Though right now, my whole being is crying out for the desire to walk through that door and on the kitchen table, make him my own like only a woman can make a man her own to seal the deal. Because I’ve been his, forever.”

“That’s not fair to him.”

“Nothing in this war is fair, Kreacher.”

It nods in understanding and just when it seems that he is going to resume its path in search of its rightful master, it stops and looking carefully at the muggleborn, makes its fingers snap making Hermione feel a rejuvenating freshness running through her red eyes and her eyelids swollen by tears.

“Master Weasley doesn’t need any more worries at this time.”

“Thank you, Kreacher”, she smiles, “and thank you for not giving me up earlier”, she says, pointing to the treacherous loose piece of wood on the floor, just outside the kitchen door.

And for the first time in its long life Kreacher, the last proud servant of the ancestral, noble and elitetist pureblood House Blacks, gives a genuine smile to a muggleborn witch.

“It will be our secret Lady Granger”, it says as it completes a graceful bow and leaves the place to look for its rightful master, even though it feels that something inside its has changed forever.

Months later:

“Hang on a moment!” said Ron sharply. “We’ve forgotten someone!”

“Who?” asked Hermione.

“The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?”

“You mean we ought to get them fighting?” asked Harry.

“No,” said Ron seriously, “I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want any more Dobbies, do we? We can’t order them to die for us —”

It only takes a moment, but for Hermione Granger it’s as if she’s been hit by the ‘Arresto Momentum’ spell. A lifetime of feelings and images flashes through her privileged mind so real, so sharp and clear, it’s as if she were reliving her own memories in a pesieve...

Terderness

A beautiful boy with a stain of dirt on his nose...

Loyalty

A rough stick falling over the head of a mountain troll...

Nobleness

Slugs vomited in a bucket...

Courage

Badly wounded, covered in dirt, sweat and blood, standing, with a broken leg, like a bulwark between two teenagers and a serial killer…

Jealousy

The broken arm of an action figure at the foot of a bed...

Devotion

A male figure with horribly scarred arms, who watches over her when she wakes up with a terrible wound in her chest...

Excitement

The smell of parchment, freshly cut grass and a soap with scents of wood and clove when hug that glorious body...

Hope

A broom that materializes in front of the burrow driven by a metamorpagus witch...

Confort

Hands joined, just before sleeping at Grimmaud Place...

Love

Blue eyes that watch over her when she wakes up at Shell Cottage...

Fear

A small boy, with a large head wound on a chequered floor...

Panic

A freckly face, as white as a sheet, on a bed surrounded by a bunch of redheads who look scared...

Terror

A mangled arm that bleeds so much that it is impossible to believe that a human being can contain so much blood...

Desperation

A soaked figure, with his face crazed with pain and anger, just before disappearing in the pouring rain on an autumn night...

Everything is a stormy maelstrom that consumes her, takes her breath away and threatens to blow her head up incapable of bringing together so many emotions at once, and that’s when a picture emerges above all that emotional explosion. A scene watched sneakily from the half-light, under the threshold of a door in an old manor house.

The image of a humble old house elf listening Ronald Weasley’s confession of love for her.

And the feeling that neither can, nor wants to be hidden any longer, breaks through. The imperative need, greater than breathing, to take what is rightfully hers and which she has been denying herself for far too long.

She is barely aware of what is going on around her, drunk as she is, of the emotion that envelops her. She does not hear the sound of fangs striking the ground, nor does she see a lightning-shaped scar warp as the eyebrows above green eyes rise as they widen, nor the movement of her own legs, nor the surprise reflected in a freckled face. Her heart is all she feels, the love overflowing from it and then the trembling of her own body and the feeling of to be at home when she jumps up and embraces the impressive hunk before her. The tremor in the core of her belly as she attacks lips that seem to have been made just for her. The vertigo she feels when Ronald Weasley, "Ron", her first, one and only true love, makes her flutter like a schoolgirl in the embrace that envelops her as he kisses her back with such intensity that she feels her toes curl and the shudder of her centre becomes so intense it burns. It burns like the very fires of hell within her.

He loves her.

She loves him.

And both will fight like hell, against any power in heaven or on earth that tries to separate them again.

The End.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33865393

#Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ron/Hermione #ROMIONE #Kreacher

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clevercatchphrase · 3 years

Text

2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

ON TO 2021!

I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

Good night.

#long post #new year's resolutions #year review #year retrospective

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dubersbutt · 4 years

Text

He Doesn’t Have to Know - Nathan Mackinnon

Summary: Nate is a bartender working a slow shift when you walk in.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: cheating, smut, the works

Tuesday nights. Nate had a love-hate relationship with the shift. On one hand, he mostly got paid to sit around and do nothing because hardly anyone showed up. On the other hand, few people meant few tips, and he got bored really easily.

He and Ej are messing around in the back when you walk in. He “accidentally” poured a glass of water on Ej’s chest which created a dilemma when your uniform consisted of a thin white dress shirt.

“Are you kidding me, man,” he says as he rolls his eyes, “you gotta take her, man. I can’t go out like this.”

“Are you sure?” Nate teases, “you might get a bigger tip looking like that, Magic Mike.”

“Shut up and go, dumbass.”

Nate laughs as he walks out the door. The first thing he notices about you is how well you’re dressed - which isn’t surprising considering everyone who comes here is rich and he assumes you’re no different. The second thing the notices is the gigantic ring on your finger, a ring that screamed “TAKEN” from a mile away.

“Evening ma’am,” he greets, “what can I get you?”

He watches your eyes travel up and down his body. Nate’s a good looking guy - played hockey when he was younger, goes to the gym every day - and his uniform hugs him in all the right places. Sure he could go up a size in shirts, but if he’s totally honest, he doesn’t mind the stares.

“Cosmo,” you say after a slight pause.

“Yes ma’am,” he starts on your drink and your smile. That’s when he notices, your nails, lipstick and dress are all the same shade of deep red that compliments your skin tone.

“Pretty lonely down here,” you say as he hands you his drink.

He shrugs, “I don’t mind. It means that I can talk with a pretty girl like you.”

So Nate flirted with married women every once in a while. He needed the tips!

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the ladies,” you reply as you bring your drink to your lips.

“Only the breathtakingly beautiful ones,” and he’s not lying. He doesn’t really flirt with anyone he doesn’t find attractive. And you were striking.

Just then, an immaculately dressed man walks in. His suit is some high-end brand Nate doesn’t know the name of but can recognize that it probably costs the same amount he paid for his car. His shoes are some soft leather without any creases and the face of his watch takes up his entire wrist. Dude was bougie.

He walks over to you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. So this must be the owner of the ring, Nate thinks.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

“Didn’t my wife already order for me,” he asks as he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling.

“No, sir.”

“Maybe you weren’t listening,” he replies as he taps his ear.

Nate takes a deep breath but you cut in before he can say anything.

“No, dear, your drink order changes every night, how would I know what you wanted,” if Nate’s not mistaken there’s a slight bite to your voice.

The other man rolls his eyes, “scotch, neat.”

Nate takes a deep breath as he gets out the glass and realizes he never specified which scotch he wanted. He chooses the most expensive one and pours it into the glass. He slides it across the bar, which is the best part of his job even when the customers are dicks.

“I asked for this on the rocks,” he says he shakes the drink in Nate’s face.

Nate knows he didn’t but he’s also been doing this long enough to realize there’s no point in arguing and takes the glass to put one of the large round ice cubes from the freezer.

“Anything else I can get you?” Nate asks and prays that’s all you need.

“That’s all for now,” you say, cutting off your husband and Nate rushes to the back before he can say anything.

“Douchebag?” EJ asks while rubbing a towel on his still damp chest.

“Obviously.”

“You should have punched him.”

“I wanted to,” Nate replies as he runs his hand through his hair.

He and Ej chat for 20 minutes before Nate knows he should go out to check on you two. He tries to get Ej to do it but-

“I would rather stick my foot in the fryer than talk that man.”

And Nate would feel bad if Ej stuck his foot in the dryer because of him so he goes out instead.

When he gets outside his drink is relatively untouched and he has a stack of money in his hand.

“The cheque,” he demands and Nate walks over to the till to print it.

Thankfully he doesn’t have an argument about the prices - Nate really doesn’t think he can handle the “I just work here I don’t run the place” conversation right now.

“Are you coming with me?” he asks you after placing money in the cheque book. Surprise, surprise, he’s a lousy tipper.

“I’ve barely touched my drink.”

“Well I have to go, I’ll see you at home?”

You just nod your head and extend your neck for him to kiss your cheek. You watch as he leaves and as soon as he’s out the door you turn to Nate.

“I’m sorry about my husband,” you say holding a small piece of paper in between your fingers, “he’s a...difficult man. This should make up for his behaviour.”

He takes it and when he unfolds it he sees a 50 dollar bill.

“Are you su-“ he starts to ask but you hold up a hand, stopping him.

“Take it,” and so he does.

He starts to clean up your husband’s dishes, picking up the glass and dropping the contents in the sink. Such a waste of good scotch he thinks sadly.

“Now I hope you know that a 50 dollar tip means that you have to stay out here and talk to me.”

“I would’ve done it for free,” and he would’ve.

“It’s a small price to pay to watch your ass in that suit,” you say bringing your cup to your lips and smirking at him over the rim.

He almost drops the glass.

“Aren’t you married?”

You shrug, “he’s out right now parading himself with other women. He thinks he’s discreet but he’s not. If he can do it, why can’t I?”

Nate walks over to the bar to stand in front of you. He tries to think of anything witty to say at all but is at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” you say, “I never was good at holding my tongue.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so absolutely stunning,” he says with a slight shrug.

You laugh, “careful there, Nathaniel,” he assumes you read his name card on his chest, his boss doesn’t allow them to put nicknames on the card, “you’re flirting with a married woman.”

“You said yourself that he’s with other women, so what’s the harm in a little flirting.”

“What time do you end here, Nathaniel?”

“Not until 1 but I can probably get out of here sooner for you…”

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he finishes, “give me a few minutes.”

He sprints to the back room and pushes open the door, startling EJ.

“Was she a dick too?” he asks.

“No, actually, she gave me a 50 dollar tip and invited me to her apartment so, uh, I’m gonna head out. You’ll be fine here right?” he says so quickly he barely understands himself.

Ej just blinks, “I’m sorry she what? Invited you to her apartment?”

“Yeah, or house, or whatever. She didn’t exactly explain what she wanted to do I just assumed she meant hooking up,” he says and realizes he might be an idiot.

Ej gives him a look, “what if she’s an axe murderer.”

“Well then I read the situation very wrong, but I don’t think I did,” he grabs his coat from the coat hook, “do me a favour though if I don’t respond to you by noon tomorrow then call the cops.”

Ej sighs, “fine but I get half your tips next time we work together cause you're leaving me alone.”

“Not half.”

“Fine a quarter.”

He really doesn’t want to do that but he really, really does not want to keep you waiting so he agrees and pulls on his coat as he leaves.

“I’m good to go,” he says as he hears Ej follow him out.

“Perfect,” you say as you down the rest of your drink and hop down from the barstool.

He follows you out of the restaurant, appreciating the way your dress hugs your body. If you turned out to be an axe murderer he was going to be so mad.

“So, uh where’s your apartment?” He asks once the chilly Denver air hits him.

“Patience, Nathaniel,” you say as you start walking, “can I call you that?”

He doesn’t usually like people calling him by his full name, but it sounds so good from you so he doesn’t mind it.

“I only ask because it’s a bit of a mouthful to scream, isn’t it?”

Nate has to take a deep breath to stop himself from pressing you up against the wall right there and then, “Nate, is good too.”

You grab his hand and lead him into your apartment building moments later. Your hand stays loosely attached to his wrist as you greet the security guard and walk into the elevator.

He’s taken by surprise when the doors close and you pull him close to press your lips to his gently. You’ve undone his jacket before he realizes it.

You take a perfectly manicured finger down his thin dress shirt. His breath catches in his throat when you pull him closer by his belt loops.

“This shirt is too tight on you, you know.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” you reply as to bring him in for another kiss.

He holds you against the wall, kissing you slowly until the elevator doors open.

When the doors open you’re greeted by a small fluffy black cat that runs into the elevator, purring as it rubs itself against your ankles.

“Hi, baby,” you coo as you pick it up and walk out, “the bedroom is the last door on the left. I need to check on her food, be naked by the time I get there.”

Nate follows your instructions and sure enough, the last door on the left is the master bedroom. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expected but you have the biggest bed he’d ever seen. He strips out of his shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He lounges on the bed and, honestly, it’s so comfortable he almost falls asleep.

He hears the door open and then you’re stepping into the room and throwing yourself on his lap.

“Fuck you’re hot,” you say as you straddle his waist and lean down to kiss him, “but this is not naked.”

You snap his briefs against his skin lightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

You hum against his skin as you trail kisses his down his neck. He lets out a small moan your teeth scrape against his neck. You slide down his body, kissing as you go. His dick is just trying to chub in his briefs when you settle yourself between his legs. He lifts his hips to help him shimmy out of them.

He’s not expecting it when you jerk him slowly, teasing him. You wrap your lips around the tip, looking at him as you suck hard. His hand comes to grip the back of your head. His hips come up to thrust down your throat but you push his hips down with your hands.

“Nuh-uh,” you say as you pull off his dick, “Be good.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll spank you,” you wink at him before you take him back into your throat.

He can’t tell if you’re joking but the thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

He tries to even out his breathing when you push your head past the sphincter of your throat and his fingers are scratching at the back of your head. Your hands are still holding his hips, nails digging into them. He moans as your mouth gets more and more wet. He wants to buck hips but you keep him from doing so. Spit and pre-cum dribble out the side of your mouth. Your eyes water as you fuck yourself on his cock. He has to pull on your head to get you to stop before he blows his load.

“You could have cum on my face,” and Nate almost cums right then and there.

“As good as that sounds, I really want to fuck you.”

You let out a short laugh as you crawl up his body to kiss him. His hands come up to caress your body when he realizes that you’re still wearing your dress. He wants to rip it off you but it probably costs more than his rent so he asks you to take it off.

The second the straps fall from your shoulder, he’s reaching up to bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“No marks,” you say while pulling on the short hair at the back of his neck.

“It looks like your cat clawed my hips,” he says as he helps pull the dress off your body.

You let out an annoyed huff, “That’s different.”

When the dress is off he flips you over, kissing the valley between your breasts. He reaches around you to unclasp your bra, unhooking it with practised ease.

“Got a lot of experience there, Nathaniel?” you tease.

He just smirks and slips his hand in between your legs, under the waistband of your thong. He finger dips between your folds and he lets out a groan when he feels how wet you are.

“All this just from blowing me?” he groans huskily in your ear, “I wonder what would happen if you sat on my face.”

You whine, “Fuck, next time, I just want you to fuck me.”

He pumps his finger in and out a few times before he lines himself with your entrance and pushes in slowly. You tap on his ass to tell him to move and he wastes no time, fucking you hard and heavy. Each thrust pushes a moan out of you.

“Nate,” you moan as he reaches up and grips the headboard for leverage. He can feel you clenching around him. He reaches down to rub circles into your clit which makes you wrap your legs around his body.

Another moan leaves your body, “Nate, Nate, Nate don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” he groans in your ear. He can’t wrap his hand around your throat like he wants so he’ll settle for gripping your chin to kiss you furiously. He’s conflicted between wanting to hear your moans and wanting to keep kissing you.

Your hands claw at his neck and shoulders as you near your orgasm, dropping your head back to savour the pleasure.

“Come all over me, baby,” he grunts and that’s all you need before you come hard, jerking in his arms as your orgasm hits you. Nate can feel your juices coating his thighs and that’s what makes him lose it, fucking into as he cums. A shiver runs down your spins as you feel him spill himself into you.

It takes him a minute to catch his breath before he slips out of you and lays down beside you. You catch his chin in your hand and turn his head to so you can kiss him. He grips your hip and pulls you in by hiking your thigh over his body. The two of you make out lazily for a while before you untangle yourself from the tangle of limbs.

“Get comfy, I’ll be back in a while.”

He hears the tap running in the bathroom, but he’s asleep before you return.

~~~

He’s awoken by you ripping the covers off him.

“Get up,” you demand.

He’s still half asleep, “What? What’s going on?”

“You need to leave,” you insist as you throw his briefs and slacks at him, “my husband is early. He’s going to be in the lobby and then up the elevator and if you’re not gone in less than 2 minutes, it’s not going to end well.”

Nate scrambles to pull his pants over his thighs and doesn’t bother to do up his belt. He’s reaching for his shirt when you take his hand and lead him through the apartment - er, penthouse, whatever. You’re going so fast Nate nearly trips over the cat.

“Here,” she says opening a door at the end of the hall, “follow this hall and there’s a stairwell. When you go down two floors you can take the elevator down - or keep walking, I don't care.”

You throw the remaining clothes at him.

“Wait-” the door slams shut.

#nhl imagine #nhl smut #nathan mackinnon #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon smut #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey oneshot #hockey smut

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misfitjohnnys · 4 years

Text

unintentional; intro

You’ve worked hard for everything you’ve gotten and Mark Lee is a soft twist in your busy life, but you know hiding part of yourself eventually always bites anyone in the ass.

Word count: 4k

Reader x Mark Lee

(M)

masterlist // warnings

It took quite a bit of convincing yourself to wake up and leave for the airport, overwhelmed by your senses and disbelief that you were actually leaving town in what you, at the time, thought was a critical moment for business.

You had responsibilities; worries about work, making sure the housecleaner was on top of her game while you were gone, other little nags in your schedule you wanted to avoid. You might’ve been a little bit of a perfectionist in comparison to when you were younger and it plagued you but paid off when you were sitting at the very top of the food chain at work, so to speak. Owning and managing a high maintenance restaurant didn’t come easy. It took nearly all of your time and the last location that opened left a little more to be desired for something you put your heart and soul into. And yet you were leaving for a concert. It felt idiotic.

It wasn’t easy to get up and leave just for pleasure. The worry set in, banging in your chest as you carefully carried a gigantic decorated suitcase down the stairs of your luxury apartment in Los Angeles.

Just have a good time

. You told yourself, itching to stay back inside and take care of business. You’d wasted a good amount of time that day worried about leaving that night, but you got all you needed done to prepare for your trip. You booked a late flight for that purpose, knowing it was hard to sleep enough the night before to be ready to go the next morning. You knew you’d work yourself to death the night before trying to scramble and prepare. Your brain was always scattered before flying. It was scattered in general, but your position made you tons more organized and since the health of the restaurant was your main priority, you had to make sure it was all incredibly perfect before you left.

You hadn’t had an off day in what felt like weeks, you couldn’t count anymore, but that was business. You’d made it successful by being fully involved and on location every day, even in your pyjamas when nobody could see you. Dedication was critical if you’d continue to stay successful. Your dream started at 16 with early graduation, finishing a business management degree early with extra financing classes, following with culinary school. You were top dollar success before 25 and you were proud. You got lucky with investors due to your intense and productive personality, so motivation was the key and, boy, did you have the spunk and drive for success. It was almost a toxic relationship between you and work.

Maybe you did need a break, but it was so hard to accept that. You had been so busy the last few years making a name for yourself and you were a mild celebrity, a big success so young and people had your name in their mouths, especially in surrounding areas. It didn’t come easy. You even worked the morning of your parents’ divorce court, met them at the courthouse, then went straight back to work after a costume change.

The dedication got between you and lots of your relationships. Moving to the city states away meant your friends rarely visited. You never traveled to them as much as you desperately wanted to; time was never available and you worried too much, just to put it lightly. There you were, flying off to see your friends, but it was the SuperM concert that pushed you to the edge to make the decision to go. Seeing the concert was an added bonus, but the main goal was to see your friends and have a good time with them. You were going home for the first time in years and it felt weird when you could just stay in California and see the concert closer to you in a few months, but you had to stop making your decisions less about you and more about the people you cared about. Your business wasn’t the only important aspect in life, and you knew that, but it didn’t feel that way.

Your suitcase was heavy, packed way too full of so many unnecessary clothing items out of fear of having to fly back so soon to business or investment meetings. You had backup outfits on top of backup outfits. There were at least six changes of clothes, multiple pairs of shoes, and you felt kind of silly. You were supposed to be gone maybe three days and it felt like a lifetime you’d be gone. The newest location’s food order hadn’t been submitted for the week yet and that was gnawing at your throat to make a phone call, aching to force you to stay home and take care of it all, but you had to trust who you put in charge on site. You had a wonderful assistant, Irene, and she wasn’t at all hesitant about making you go on the trip. She urged you to buy tickets on a whim and she made sure you’d be flying out with precise measured steps down to the Uber to your car rental, the exact moment the keys would be in your hands, and a hotel suite overlooking a city you hadn’t seen in years.

You were booked and extremely busy all week leading to your departure without even a minute to breathe between rests. It was definitely your fault for taking on too much beforehand.

Red carpets, press conferences, board meetings. You even had an episode on The Ellen Show, reminding everyone about your new openings and new menu items and new branding when all you wanted to do was get some rest and have a drink. It was ironic because the group in the concert you were leaving to see had just been on the show. Ellen was the most fun out of all of your responsibilities, lightening the blow on all your other schedules for the week, but you were used to serious business matter, so it was a nice change in pace.

You briefly wondered if any of the members of SuperM knew about your episode, but you pushed the thought away even if it seemed fun. You ended up passed out on the couch more than once that week, half-dressed and with remaining stage makeup on after every event and you were tired. You were damn tired and getting a full night’s rest seemed more fun than the trip at that point, but you had to trust the people around you. It was hard to do that when you’d gotten where you were because of being so involved with your business.

You didn’t even know if you wanted to go, fearing that if you left for only one moment, all you worked for would come crashing down and you’d lose it all. Realistically you knew it wouldn’t happen and your intense accidental micromanaging sometimes bit you in the ass, but thankfully your workers understood. You picked a good crew, thankfully. Interviews were hell but advertisement was worth it in the end. It was all going to be fine, but it didn’t help the pit in your stomach while you walked.

You lived such a busy life that it was hard to even remember what it was like before your responsibilities. It felt unreal that you’d be in a different city unnecessarily when you could easily stay and do what you had to do, but vacationing and seeing your friends was the deal you worked up with Irene. She was forcing you into it, and you had to remind yourself yet again that you knew it was probably for the best even if it didn’t feel that way in the moment.

It took a lot out of you to not ignore your suggested GPS route and just drive to the restaurant to work all day instead, making up bigger and better reasons to avoid leaving, but against your better judgment you continued on your way, forcing yourself to follow the itinerary that Irene made for you, rolling your eyes as you glanced over her suggestions for the timing of what should be done and ideas for your entertainment.

Have fun!!!

was written about four different times as a reminder.

You both knew you’d ignore it, but you had to be forced to enjoy yourself or you’d just be miserable and not busy on a trip, sitting on the edge of the bed in a hotel just focused on your online number system to check sales, which is exactly what you did for your cousin’s bachelorette party. She was still kind of mad at you for that. Maybe you should call her while you’re in town. Maybe you should call and talk to anyone at home, maybe make some plans? You weren’t sure. You needed distraction and you weren’t sure your friends would cut it on that, but you hoped they would, and you’d have the time of your life.

Your phone felt heavy in your pocket, picking it up once to see only one text from Irene.

Get on the road! You’re going to miss your flight! Tell the boys hi for me!

You rolled your eyes. Your sigh echoed in the parking garage, second guessing the flight and debated on using the excuse of missing the plane. Losing that money didn’t matter, your restaurant and reputation did, but you pushed the thoughts away. You groaned, tossing your suitcase in the back and slid into the driver’s seat of your red Mustang.

The restaurant was going to be fine.

The faded smell of cigarette wafted around the car each time you got in, a reminder of the worst habit continually nagging at your insides but being well-off came with a price. That’s what you’d tell yourself to push away some of the guilt for smoking. It wasn’t the worst habit you could have; you’d often resolve. Your vehicle started up and the dreaded sound of it warming up almost made you sick to your stomach. The Mustang’s hum usually comforted you, but then it was absolutely no help. You almost felt like crying. Almost. Your head was spinning back and forth between the two options and it was hard to keep on track with the correct one.

The drive to LAX felt like an eternity, music blasting through the speakers as a failed distraction while you smoked down the last cigarette before your plane ride. Your head felt heavy, maybe you did deserve some time off.

The concert was in two days. If you were lucky and everything went according to plan, (it always did) then you’d be settled in town by morning in order to meet up with your friends from home and get a drink with the people you hadn’t seen in years. The concert was composed of groups you felt like you’d been into forever, spending time and time online filling your brain with them as a distraction, all you knew was work and your favorite music. You got made fun of for years for liking it so much, but you pushed it off and continued your love in silence. It was your biggest guilty pleasure, but hopefully would be the force to take some much needed relaxing and self-focus that not even your massage therapist could give you on your lunch breaks.

When you heard the news that the super-group had come together, it seemed like the perfect getaway to see them all, rattling your nerves the second you pressed PAY NOW on the ticket website. You were full of mild regret for weeks following, heartbeat fast in your chest when the thought of leaving came up.

You couldn't believe that at your age, you'd be going to see them all. You'd had the time and money before, but just never felt like it was necessary to take a trip just for you. You didn’t know what had come over you, but you assumed your acting on impulse was paying for itself now as you pulled the bags out of the car, heart racing through the airport parking garage so loudly in your ears you thought the flight attendants could probably hear it.

You groaned, dragging your bag up the escalator of the airport, waiting on Irene to let you know she had your car picked up, but she always had everything covered so it wasn’t really a concern as much as you were playing it out in your head.

Walking through the building felt like you were on autopilot, bringing your items through bag check and making sure you were comfortable enough to get on the plane. Thankfully your gate was rather empty because you weren’t sure if you could suffer through any extra anxieties before the flight, you were already so ready to give up and cancel the whole trip, but something didn’t feel right about doing that.

You reached into your backpack, taking out your prescription to take half of a Xanax for the plane ride. You sighed, walking over to the vending machine to get water, attempting to relax before your flight boarded in 40 minutes. It was just past 1am. You wasted your time scrolling through Tumblr and refocusing your energy. You hadn’t been on your blog in a few days and you'd been a little too distracted in the last couple years to keep too properly active, but you managed with updates and Tumblr seemed like the easiest platform to waste your time at that moment. Some good enjoyment and spice in the update world to ease the weight of your worries just a tad.

Your heart was racing as you stared your ticket down once the wait was over, gripping it enough to have noticeable sweat prints on it as you moved your way to the boarding station with heavy breaths and in disbelief that you were actually doing it. It felt like you were being forced to move and go on with your plans even though you knew that wasn’t the case. Your friends would be waiting for you in the city once you touched down. There was nothing to be worried about.

When the plane was fully boarded, you made sure to take the other half of the Xanax to get a decent amount of sleep considering you tossed and turned all night worried about your trip.

You woke up wondering what the fuck you were doing, a nightmare pulling you from your slumber, annoyed and staring out of the plane windows at the city and clouds below you, calming you down more than all else in the world in that moment.

You pulled the plane blanket to your chest and focused on your breathing, aching to land soon and relax enough to actually have a good time.

You had finally realized you'd fallen asleep without distraction when the politest flight attendant you’d spoken to in your entire life lightly woke you up. Your smile radiated and it was probably the most you had relaxed in months, sighing into a yawn and gently folding the blanket next to you before grabbing your items to head back out of the plane and into the destination airport.

The luggage grab was packed, as you expected, but your anxiety was shockingly low, breathing steady and it was even more relieving to easily pick up your bags. This wouldn’t be so bad, you thought. Your peace was quickly interrupted by a piercing yell from about 50 feet away, a familiar voice ringing in your ears to only make you smile wider.

"I can't believe you actually made it!" Your high school friend, Seulgi, yelled over to you.

Your other friend who was responsible for the yell, Yeri, followed quickly behind Seulgi and easily embraced you in the tightest hug you'd gotten in years. Your relieved sigh was heavy, happiness finally settling in. For once in the last couple months, you weren't thinking about work. That was a miracle in itself. “We thought you’d cancel last second and send us some care package in the mail apologizing.” Yeri teased with another tight squeeze.

“I can’t believe you’re home.” Seulgi told you, sighing softly and patting you on the shoulder, joining the hug and pulling the two of you to her chest.

"I told you guys you didn’t have to meet me here!” You playfully scolded your friends. “So where are we going?" You laughed, joking around and pulling up Uber to check where your ride was to pick up your rental car. You determined early on in planning that it was best if you drove around, easier access and much less stress on your part.

"I just need an SUV big enough for 3 people and quite a few bags." You spoke to the rental assistant, feeling a little embarrassed when she asked if you preferred luxury or premium. "Luxury is fine." The keyring was handed to you, biting your lip as you looked down at the Mercedes symbol on the fob. Your friends hadn't been a part of your life since you made your name, so it was only a little awkward when Seulgi and Yeri screamed as soon as they saw the vehicle you'd be driving for the next few days.

"Dude, I could live in this car." Seulgi laughed, shaking her head and tossing her bags into the trunk, grabbing her purse and sliding easily into the backseat.

"It had really good coverage." You resolved, putting your own suitcase and extra bags next to hers before taking up the drivers’ seat as if you belonged in it.

"It seems like it’s got really good everything." Yeri added with a grin, shaking her head and jumping into the passenger seat with her simple small suitcase, opting to change shoes in the front seat so she wanted her bag with her. She was always like that, fixing her makeup as soon as her shoes were changed. You smiled to yourself, shaking your head. Your best friends had gotten you through most of your life as you remembered; now it was your turn to treat them.

It was good to be back, that was a tough pill to swallow as you eased your way down the highway to your temporary home for the next couple days, you hoped it was comfortable.

The hotel suite was far fancier than you were expecting, silk linens hanging from the curtain rods to reveal an amazing view of the city from your beds alone, Egyptian cotton lining the beds along with multiple high-class comforters. To put it short, the suite looked like it was designed for Greek gods instead of a group of people in their twenties like all of you. It was accented with a kitchen, full bathroom, and a balcony. Irene had to have used your points from work trips to secure the highest-level suite.

Yeri couldn’t hide her excitement, jumping straight onto the bed nearest to the window. You easily sat your bags on the free bed while Seulgi crawled under the covers next to Yeri to assert herself as who would be sleeping where. You couldn’t help but to laugh, the two of them always so close to each other and you had to admit you missed it.

You gently pulled off your shoes, tossing your hair into a hair tie to get it out of your way and tried your best to get ready for the day with a shower and fresh face. You felt quite overwhelmed, but in the best possible way. You hadn’t stayed in your hometown in what felt like forever, opting ever so often to only visit for a holiday or important family matters, and you even went as far as to staying outside of the city usually, so you were only a little on edge, trying to remind yourself that you were used to these kinds of things and the discomfort would subside.

You checked your phone, only slightly shocked that you only had a text or two from Irene that were easily blown off. She always knew where your head was at versus where it should be, but the thought was nice even if it slightly annoyed you every time.

Have fun, remind me that you didn’t die on your flight!

I packed some extra warm clothes in case you forgot about the wind chill!

You mildly snorted, shaking your head and deciding to ignore responding to her for now. She probably knew you were already settling in, just wanting an update text even though she always had your location since managing you was her job. You went out to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette in the city for the first time and trying your best to relax a little more. The balcony of the hotel was nice, overlooking the city lights, buildings, and scenery you weren’t used to anymore and for some reason you felt calmed by the cold breeze passing over your legs through your pants, socks not quite warm enough to stop the chilly air. It felt like home, but it was different.

You weren’t a child anymore and you could appreciate the soft hum of the city, quiet sirens heard in the background with the wind whistling through the trees. It felt more comforting than you would’ve thought, filling your lungs with smoke and relaxing into the sounds of a city you never appreciated quite enough. You all went out to dinner and to walk around a bit to visit old memories, so the trip was so far so good.

Making your way back to the suite, you felt pretty good. You took another break outside, letting the cool chair embrace you when you heard the door open and a faint giggle from Yeri, stepping out on the balcony and turning her nose up at the smell of cigarette smoke. She always hated it and you swore you’d never smoke, but desperate times called for desperate measures at the cost of your success. It wasn’t your favorite thing, but the nicotine calmed you enough to keep sane. “What’s up, babe?”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you when Yeri said she wanted to have a party, but it slightly worried you, biting on your lips to think of any reason to say no, but you couldn’t find one, sighing and knowing she probably knew your mental health better than you did and knew you’d have a better time than you ever thought. You scrambled to find whatever you needed in your bag to properly get dressed because you definitely weren’t sure what exactly to wear to a party or who you might see, materialism absolutely showing through as you tried to find the best possible outfit to represent you as a person but still remind anyone you knew that you were still the same person, just on the road to success.

You sighed, taking a sip of water and really wishing it were something a little stronger. Tequila maybe? You weren’t sure, but you had to properly be dressed if any party was going on in your presence. The challenge of throwing a party slapped you in the face, not at all even comfortable with the idea of putting it together and that’s what made you nervous. You were used to throwing dozens of successful business parties and you hadn’t small-partied in years in a non-professional environment, you weren’t sure you knew how to act at one anymore, or even how to get ready for one.

Getting dressed was a nightmare, going through all your clothes when you were so used to throwing on a professional outfit and half-assed makeup to go to work had gotten you into a routine and you weren’t sure what your style even was anymore.

You knew you looked fine, but the usual outfits you wore didn’t really depict who you were as a person, making you sigh and feeling even more nervous and absolutely out of your comfort zone and how long had it been since you’d been to a party? Probably not since the third location’s launch party and that was full of investors and critics so you couldn’t necessarily “party”. You sighed in the bathroom, tugging on a long sweater with some tights and black shorts. Your shoes were brand new, hardly even worn but they seemed to work with the sleek seemingly-no-effort outfit. You hardly even packed your own clothes, Irene assisted you and tossed extra items into your suitcase that you weren’t quite sure of, but she knew you better than anyone, so you were thankful for the help.

Your makeup left a little to be desired, frowning when it didn’t quite come out. You sighed, realizing that you should probably pull yourself fully together and maybe pluck your eyebrows, but that may have just been an excuse to leave the hotel for a breather and a new pack of cigarettes. Maybe the outing would help you calm down after what you called getting dressed “a catastrophe” to your friends. They seemed slightly worried, so you felt a little sick.

“I’m headed out, be back in twenty.” Seulgi and Yeri visibly pouted, looking absolutely perfect and ready for the party, their friends already on their way. There were probably going to be tons of people from university you hadn’t even heard of, so that was rattling your nerves even more. You had a bad habit of over-anticipating and working yourself into being terrified to associate. You put on a fancy hat and headed out the door.

The walk to the car felt like you ran there, steadying your breaths until the door opened, biting your lip as you started it up and sat in the drivers’ seat to tell yourself it was all going to be fine.

You opted to check your phone, nearly frustrated when you’d received multiple texts from employees telling you that it was all going well. It was unfortunate, but you’d like an excuse to worry about and being at work seemed easier than worrying about a party you weren’t sure you were emotionally prepared for.

As you backed out and made your way to a nearby Walgreens, something felt a little off in the pit of your stomach. You had a feeling that nagged at you and you couldn’t quite place it. You made your way into the parking lot, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. It had been a long time since you’d been in a store alone and not with Irene or someone else. You didn’t like doing things alone anymore and this trip had a lot of alone time on it, but you thought that maybe it was good. You’d have a learning experience to get back to being yourself.

You were used to being with people, constant human interaction since your first restaurant opened. It wasn’t like that when you were younger. You were shy and timid and forced to do things alone, so when you were ripped out of that in the restaurant business, you got used to it very quickly. It was like second nature to constantly be surrounded, so even walking into Walgreens felt foreign.

#NCT #nct smut #mark lee smut #mark lee #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #superm #tommowrites #nctfic #unintentional

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liviethewriter · 4 years

Text

Nightmares || Ezio x Reader

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Type: Oneshot Requester: None Warnings: Fluff, Italian Swearing, Minor Violence, SPOILERS for Assassin’s Creed 2 Note: You gotta admit, the expressions in a lot of Assassin’s Creed games are just simply great. For example, Ezio’s expression in AC2 when his mother said, “Still recovering from last night?” And almost instantly, he feints surprise, like, “Uh, no idea what you’re talking about…” I’m laughing just thinking about it! Also, I wish to apologize for any incorrect translations. My first language is English, and I can speak some basic Japanese. Google Translate was bullied here. Anywho, the Assassin’s Creed franchise is not mine, and rights to it go to Ubisoft. You are your own person. The only thing that is mine is the fan fiction itself. Enjoy! -Livie

All was quiet in the halls of the Villa Auditore. Moonlight spilled through the windows of the villa, illuminating the rooms it could get into. The inhabitants were sound asleep, save for one soul. A woman by the name of Y/N.

Y/N was a traveling bookbinder, a book doctor of sorts. Most men did this job, but she was one of the few women who mended old books and bound new manuscripts together. Women were especially good at this, mainly because of their ability to skillfully use a needle with thread. Y/N loved books and her services were fairly priced. On top of that, she was pretty friendly to many clientele.

Y/N was a close friend to Giovanni Auditore, a banker of Firenze. He had many documents and files, and she traveled through Firenze frequently. Whenever she was in town, he’d have her weave some of the books together and always paid her full price for her services. He even let her stay with his family for a few days if she were weary of travel.

Thus, Y/N became a close friend to the Auditore family. Maria, the mother, was approving of her choice of profession, as most women around this time period flocked to a brothel or began displaying their cleavage in hopes of hooking a husband on the streets. Fredrico seemed to like her, as a friend of course. He was already promised to another woman, and she was not too keen on making enemies. Petruccio avoided Y/N, though she never understood whether it was because he was shy or if he was disliking of her. Y/N and Claudia got along fairly well, and the bookbinder often gave her advice about Duccio. She was especially upset when she found out that he was being unfaithful.

It was the middle son, Ezio, that vexed Y/N the most. She never got too close to him, knowing he was with another woman by the name of Cristina Vespucci. But Ezio was always quick to throw Y/N that adorable, cocky grin of his. She could never tell if he was trying to flirt with her, or if he was trying to make her lighten up. He loved spending time with her. Whenever Ezio wasn’t running errands for his family or doing chores (or other unmentionable things), he was spending time with Y/N, grinning and joking around with her.

But then the Auditore family ran into trouble. Y/N didn’t even know about it until she was passing through Firenze on a supply run, and she heard a passerby say, “I can’t believe it. Who’d have thought the Auditore family…? Mio Dio (My God).”

Y/N felt her stomach hollow, and she grabbed the man by the shoulder and said, “Wait, what happened?”

“You didn’t hear?” The man looked surprised. “Giovanni, Fredrico, and Petruccio Auditore da Firenze were hung yesterday for treason and conspiracy to murder.”

Y/N let him go as he shrugged and walked away. Stumbling to an alleyway, she threw up, shaking. Giovanni and two of his sons were dead? Mio Dio, indeed. Feeling unsteady on her legs, she wiped at her mouth. Then what did that mean for Maria, Claudia, and Ezio? Were they all alright? Were they running? Did they escape? So little time, so many questions.

And so began her search for the remanents of the Auditore family.

Y/N didn’t find them until several months later at Villa Auditore, in Monteriggioni. She had stopped there for a few supplies. She was looking around some of the stalls for flasks and food when suddenly she was grabbed from behind and dragged into a nearby alleyway.

Y/N struggled, about to bite the hand over her mouth. But she was suddenly turned around and met with a pair of familiar brown eyes, glittering happily in the dimness of the alleyway. The fire in her eyes quickly dissipated, recognizing the face in front of her. He had aged a bit since she had last met him, dark brown stubble lining his jaw and amplifying his handsome appearance. Y/N was definitely attracted to Ezio.

The Auditore Assassin grinned at her. “Y/N! Mio Dio, look at you!”

She grinned right back at him, hugging him around the neck. “Ezio!”

Ezio laughed a little and hugged her right back, his strong embrace nearly crushing her. A surprised squeak from Y/N was all it took for him to let her go and hold her at arm’s length. “Where have you been?” Y/N asked excitedly.

“Here. There. Everywhere,” Ezio shrugged, chuckling softly as he cocked a brow at her.

Y/N shook her head, smiling a little. “That’s so like you, to be vague,” she commented, to which Ezio proceeded to pretend to be surprised.

“Bellissima (Gorgeous), what ever do you mean?” Ezio asked, a hand lying across his heart.

Y/N laughed and he grinned, chuckling along with you. Putting an arm around her, he said, “Venire (Come), Mother and Claudia will want to see you.”

Excited at the prospect to see the Auditore family she had been searching for so long, Y/N happily went with him. As the two of them exited the alleyway, Y/N noticed the white armored outfit he was wearing. It wasn’t exactly what she’d expect Ezio to wear. No one seemed to be bothered by its peculiar style. In fact, they seemed to welcome Ezio, greeting him happily.

A group of girls giggled and flaunted themselves invitingly as the two passed by and a dark feeling curdled in the pit of her stomach. With a stab of shock, Y/N realized the feeling was jealousy. Why was she jealous of a few brothel-born women who wore clothing that left little to the imagination?

It definitely had something to do with the fact that she had Ezio by her side. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that he interested her. In more ways than one.

Curious, Y/N then decided to ask it. “So… how’re you and Cristina?”

Ezio knew she had to have some reason for asking about his former girlfriend. With his free hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, we’re no longer a couple, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Y/N widened her eyes, flabbergasted. “Wha-! What happened?”

Ezio looked at her, seeming a little upset. “Well, after my father and brothers… you know, I took my mother and sister here. We were about to leave for a ship to Spain, but my Uncle Mario convinced me to stay here. Since Cristina did not know if I would return or not, her father betrothed her to another man. I did nothing as I knew her father did not like me. And I did not want Cristina to be called an unfaithful puttana (whore). So…”

Y/N frowned sympathetically. “Oh… I’m sorry, Ezio.”

“No, non scusarti. (No, don’t apologize.) After all, I think Cristina will be happier with him.” Ezio looked forward, sighing a little as the tips of his hair brushed his cheekbones.

Y/N always thought he had handsome features, but with the dark brown facial hair coming in, she thought he looked absolutely gorgeous.

“Mio dolce (My sweet), you’re staring,” Ezio teased, a playful little smirking gracing his features as he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

A light pink dusted YN’s face as she sharply looked forward, tense. Ezio laughed heartily, his brown eyes glittering in amusement. Y/N shook her head, huffing.

Only then did she notice that they were going to the large villa ahead. Y/N went bug-eyed. “No way,” she mumbled in amazement.

Ezio chuckled as the two reached the top of the stairs leading to the front yard. He guided her inside, grinning. “Y/N, welcome to Villa Auditore!”

Y/N was stunned by the beauty of the recently restored Villa. It was exquisite outside. But inside was absolutely beautiful. “Stunning, sì (yes)?” Ezio asked, standing by the door as she looked around in wonder.

Y/N looked at Ezio, smiling. She was at a loss for words, so she merely nodded.

“I can think of a few other things that are twice as stunning. One of which is smiling right at me,” Ezio chuckled at his obvious flirt.

He looked fairly amused as the heat rushed to Y/N’s face and she looked away.

~~~

And now here she was. It must’ve been close to midnight. Y/N was shaking, terrified. She had just woken from a gruesome nightmare that’d both horrified her and made her cry softly.

It’d been Ezio on the gallows, not his father and brothers. She’d woken up as his screams for her to run were cut short as the trapdoor let out and the rope was drawn taut.

Comfort. Y/N wanted comfort. She knew where Ezio’s room was thanks to Claudia giving her a tour of the entire Villa earlier that evening. Claudia had been excited to see her, but Maria was a little… out of it. Y/N had expected her to be in shock like she was.

Shaking a little, Y/N wrapped her blanket around herself, nibbling on her lower lip as she got out of bed. She was quiet as she quietly walked down the corridors to Ezio’s room. Y/N raised her hand to knock on the door, but she hesitated, unsure if he’d even be in a good mood.

But Y/N still wanted to be near someone. To have human contact. And she only felt close enough to Ezio to allow herself close like that. Mustering up her courage, she knocked on the door softly, before wiping her red eyes and suppressing a sniffle.

The thought of the rope creaking as Ezio’s limp body swung from it nearly shook Y/N to tears again, but Ezio opened the door before she could break down crying again. He was only dressed in his dark trousers and a thin, white nightshirt. He instantly took note of her tear-stained face and reddened irritated eyes, and he realized what had happened without her needing to say anything.

“Oh, amore (love), come here,” he said softly, drawing her into his embrace and cradling her head to his chest.

Ezio pulled Y/N into the room and closed the door, having a feeling that she didn’t want to be seen in such a state. She was trembling as she held onto Ezio as if he were life itself. The Assassin held her close, kissing the top of her head and whispering sweet nothings to her soothingly.

When he heard a sniffle, he looked down to see Y/N silently crying. She was scared. And knowing this broke the Italian man’s heart a little. He had liked Y/N for quite a long time. But she was always rejecting any flirts from him, knowing he was with Cristina. But with his former girlfriend going to another man, he had no hesitation with being there for Y/N.

Gathering her up in his arms, Ezio carried her over to the bed and let the frightened woman sit in his lap as he held her close and comforted her. Ezio knew that talking about your nightmares often helped, but he wasn’t sure that talking about a nightmare that scared Y/N this badly would help anyone but the demons haunting her.

Ezio gently rocked her, still softly whispering in Italian. He would’ve told anyone else to just grow up. But Y/N wasn’t just anyone to him.

It wasn’t that much longer until Ezio noticed that Y/N’s soft crying had faded to hiccups. He looked down at her, very gently moving some of her hair out of her face. Her eyes were red and irritated even more than before, and her cheeks were wet with salty tears. Her face was flushed red and her lips were moistened.

Sitting her up a little more, Ezio cupped her cheeks in his hands and drew his thumbs across the still-damp skin. “Guardami, bella… (Look at me, beautiful…)” Ezio said softly, noticing that her eyes were looking down as she attempted to collect her thoughts.

Y/N’s chest lurched a little as she hiccupped again, but she complied and brought her eyes up to meet Ezio’s dark chocolate irises. Ezio’s gaze softened before he closed his eyes and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her salty lips, still wet with tears.

Y/N froze, her eyes widening at the feeling of Ezio’s plush, slightly chapped lips. It was a feeling foreign to her. But it still made her momentarily forget about her fears. Ezio opened his eyes as the kiss ended, and said, “Are you alright now, Y/N?”

The bookbinder nodded, her eyes a little wide at this point. Ezio nodded as well. “Bene, bene… (Good, good…)” Ezio murmured as he held her close again.

Y/N didn’t protest as he laid down on the bed, pulling her with him. She snuggled up to him, feeling the warmth seeping through the thin white shirt he was wearing. Ezio smiled fondly at her, affection in his eyes as he pulled his red covers over himself and Y/N. “Ti amo (I love you), Y/N,” Ezio whispered softly.

He was responded to by Y/N, who said quietly, “Ti amo anch'io (I love you too), Ezio.”

As they returned to the depths of the dream world, Ezio hoped Y/N’s nightmares would not return. He buried his face in her orange scented hair, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

#ezio #ezio auditore #ezio assassins creed #assassin's creed #assasin's creed 2 #assassin's creed brotherhood #ezio x reader #ezio reader insert

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