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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Bonus Scene Two (Gwynriel)

Masterlist

a/n: this picks up right after nesta leaves gwyn’s apartment in Part 24. warning for discussions of sex, obviously.

***

As soon as the apartment door shuts after Nesta, Gwyn releases a breath and turns to Azriel with a wide gaze. “Do I really have to teach you guitar?” she says.

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes. It was a throwaway line meant to get Nesta off his back, and even she didn’t entirely believe it. He moves toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, still shaken from Nesta storming into Gwyn’s bedroom like that. Not that she interrupted much. Gwyn still has a long way to go before she can handle anyone touching her between her legs, Azriel thinks.

He never asked Gwyn what a twenty-seven year old woman was so afraid of sex for when she first suggested her proposal to him. She looked so scared that he would question her that he couldn’t bring himself to poke even a little bit. Not that he needs to poke. He’s not a fucking idiot, and Gwyn’s thighs had been trembling in involuntary fear under his hands earlier. She’s been hurt.

For her sake, he pretends to remain ignorant and incurious, but right now his grip on the glass in his hand is so tight it might shatter. His face remains cool as he pours himself water.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Gwyn hops up onto the kitchen counter and swings her freakishly long legs. “About what you get out of our deal?”

“I don’t expect you to teach me sex for free, obviously,” Gwyn blabbered the day after they got back from the ski lodge. “You can ask for something from me, too. Even money, if that’s your thing.”

Prostitution was not Azriel’s thing, though he wouldn’t knock it. The truth was that his brain had started turning as soon as Gwyn told him about her idea, and now it couldn’t stop. Oddly enough, this opportunity was perfect.

“Tell Nesta that I’m using you as a rebound?” Azriel nearly snorts on his water. “Did you miss the part where she almost cut my dick off and choked me with it?”

Gwyn hums noncommittally. “Being a distraction from your ex is better for me than it is for you. It’s insurance that you won’t get any funny ideas.” She narrows her teal eyes at him. “If you find yourself moving on from Nesta’s hot sister, you better tell me right away. I’ll end this whole thing quickly and cleanly.”

“Why?” He thought moving on from Elain was the goal, one he was unlikely to achieve.

“You know.” She crosses her arms in an X over her chest like she’s warding him off. “You might catch—feelings for me.”

This time Azriel really does snort on his water, hard. His laughter turns into coughing when it slips down the wrong pipe, and liquid dribbles onto his shirt. Gwyn just sits there and stares at him in vague disgust.

When he’s done choking, he wipes his mouth with the hem of his tee and gasps, “Even without Elain, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.”

Gwyn wrinkles her freckled nose in distaste. “I would be offended if I wasn’t so relieved.”

He’s still chuckling when Gwyn says cautiously, “By the way…” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Did you really ghost Elain?”

Azriel is no longer amused.

“When you said you broke up with her, I thought you actually broke up with her,” Gwyn continues. “I didn’t know you were one of those guys.”

Shame tinged with embarrassment floods Azriel, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea why. Why does it matter what Gwyn of all people thinks of him, especially when she doesn’t have all the details?

He thought he was making things easier for Elain by leaving without a word. He thought she would let him slip out of her mind after a couple of weeks just like he slipped out of her life, and that it would be better than having to hear him dump his insecurities on her.

He knows now that he was only making things easier for himself. Knows that if he had stayed and talked things out with Elain, she would have convinced him to stay. If he had called her at all in the past two months, he would have gone running back to Velaris like a sailor answering a siren’s song.

She’s always been a siren—which is why he can’t regret doing what would have happened eventually anyway. Even without that Vanserra bastard or some other man, Elain could never have been a permanent fixture in Azriel’s life. Little details sprinkled throughout their time together confirm that for him now.

That doesn’t mean Elain deserved it, or deserves it now. Azriel knows that.

But all he can think of to say to Gwyn is, “Yeah, maybe I am one of those guys.” He puts his glass in the sink. “You still want me as your teacher?”

Gwyn shrugs, looking away. “It’s not like I’ve got any other choice.”

Azriel would disagree. He says what he’s been thinking since they got back from Cassian’s birthday trip. “Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone you love and trust?”

“God no,” Gwyn snorts, providing no further explanation.

Azriel can understand being hesitant to admit sexual inexperience to a crush, but it doesn’t stop him from judging Gwyn’s new man. If this coworker of hers is so great, wouldn’t she be able to trust him unabashedly with her insecurities? Wouldn’t he readily accept her for all that she is?

Ugh, he’s been dipping into Nesta’s reading collection too much lately. “Alright, then.” He leans against the counter opposite Gwyn. “Let’s talk about learning. You clammed up in bed back there after ignoring my suggestions and shoving my head between your legs.”

“I clammed up because of my best friend barging into my room and catching us together,” Gwyn defends.

“Your pussy was dry as bread before that,” he retorts. Ooh, now he wants toast.

Gwyn turns a furious shade of red while Azriel starts looking around for bread. He finds it sitting by the toaster. “Can you not say that?” she hisses at him.

“What?” He looks up from dropping bread into the toaster.

“You know…” She glances around cautiously as if someone might overhear. “Pussy.”

“Pussy,” he says again, just to be annoying. Gwyn’s shoulders turn inward in embarrassment, and he has to hold back a grin. Yeah, she’s definitely not ready for oral.

He finds a butter knife and some peanut butter. “I told you to start easy and you ignored me. You tried jumping into the deep end without learning how to tread water.”

Gwyn scoffs. “And what does ‘treading water’ entail again?”

Azriel shrugs, plucking up his finished toast. “Making out, heavy petting, freshman-year-of-high-school kind of stuff.”

“I’ve done that before,” she mutters indignantly. “Maybe not in my freshman year, but I’ve done it.”

He wonders how long ago that was, or if it was before she was—hurt.

“Besides,” Gwyn goes on before he can push the matter further, “I’m not budging on kissing. I want to save that for the man I actually like.”

“You don’t like me?” Azriel raises a brow, slathering peanut butter over his toast. “You definitely don’t act the same with me as you do with other men.” Or at least that’s what he assumes. Up until a short while ago, he never would’ve been able to imagine timid Gwyn having the guts to ask anyone for sex ed. That’s got to make him special, right?

But then Gwyn waves him off and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re not a real man. I knew you before puberty.”

Azriel nearly drops his toast. “Wow, the nerve of this woman,” he mutters with wide eyes. If she keeps this up, he’s going to start regretting ever going to the same school as her. “That’s not what you said when you were going on about how attracted you are to me.”

“I said you were attractive, not that I was attracted.” Gwyn’s blush is more from irritation than shyness now. “You do the job, but you’re no Max.” She giggles at saying his name. Actually giggles. “I’ll only kiss Max.”

“What kind of stupid ass name is Max?” Azriel grumbles through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“It’s short for Maximillian.”

He chokes. “Jesus, that’s even worse.” He’s doing all this work for some guy named Maximillian. Maybe he should just go home and let Nesta give him the beating he deserves.

Except thinking about Nesta only reminds Azriel of what a coward he is, because he fears facing her again almost as much as he fears facing Elain. “By the way, could I…” he starts hesitantly.

Gwyn gives him a judgmental sneer. “You don’t want to go back to the cabin, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can’t stay here,” she responds, crushing his hopes. “I have plans tonight, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you be such a wimp.” She hops off the counter and comes over to him, surprising him by grabbing both of his shoulders. “Azriel,” she says somberly.

He swallows his toast roughly.

“You have to grow some balls,” she continues. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of every poor woman in your life. Also, all this drama is personally a turn-off for me, which is detrimental to my sex education.” She wrinkles her nose. “Do better and all that, you know?”

Damn, okay.

Instead of standing there like an idiot, Azriel manages to say, “Fine, I’ll go.” He shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusts off his hands, heading for the living room.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave right now—” Gwyn follows after him. Azriel is already on the couch, pulling a stray notepad and pen on the coffee table closer to himself.

He clicks the pen. “When’s that library guy planning to take you out?” he asks, starting to write.

Gwyn hovers near him, watching the notepad over his shoulder in confusion. “Um, this Saturday. Just a casual coffee shop thing.”

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” He scribbles down some bullet points and labels the page LESSON PLAN. “Until then, think about a way to enjoy foreplay without kissing. Here are some suggestions so you can practice.” He tears the lined paper out of the notepad and hands it to Gwyn.

Her eyes skim over the page, brows rising with each point she reads. “Is all this really necessary?”

Azriel remembers how he barely brushed his lips against Gwyn’s core before having to pull away and kiss her quivering thigh instead. He can’t have sex with an unaroused woman, and he definitely can’t do it with a terrified woman. “Foreplay is absolutely necessary,” he says, getting up from the couch and stretching to his full height. Where Elain used to only reach his chest, Gwyn’s head almost reaches his nose. It amuses him for some reason.

“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.

Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”

“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it. He drops a hand onto Gwyn’s head and ruffles her hair. “I’d love to stay and help you study, but I have to go and grow some balls.” He mock-frowns at her as he heads for his shoes and keys. “See you later, Gwyneth.”

***

a/n: wait why do i wanna write the movie theater scene now… pls help me im just trying to finish this damn fic im getting too old for this

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#ncssianwrites #gwynriel #a favor #bonus scene

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ditzydawn11 · 3 years

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keep me safe

Neville Longbottom x reader

not requested

warnings: attempted sexual assault

2500 words

THIS STORY HAS MATURE THEMES. My heart goes out to all of the ladies who are a part of the 97%. You are strong, you are beautiful, and you are not alone.

When someone tries to hurt the reader, Neville steps in and protects her like the true Gryffindor he is.

Neville was your best friend in the whole world.

In third year you had asked Professor Sprout to use her greenhouse to cultivate a plant for your own needs. You had a knack for potions and although you couldn’t stand Snape’s constant droning in class, your passion for the subject was unmatched compared to any other of your studies.

You had been trying to create a potion that would allow your pet cat, Socks, to levitate. Ever since you first picked her out in Diagon Alley during your first year she had longingly stared out the window in your dorm admiring the owls flying outside.

Obtaining the magical ingredients was no trouble, Snape often let you come and take what you needed because you were his top student. However, to make it cat safe you needed muggle cat-nip, something Snape definitely did not have on hand.

That’s what led you to the greenhouse on a cold and rainy April morning with your small pot and bag of seeds in hand. You didn’t expect anyone else to occupy the small plant house at 7:00 am on a Tuesday so you didn’t bother to knock. You let yourself in and were startled to see another student with his back towards you tending to some plant.

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked out. Before you could react, the poor boy dropped the empty pot he was holding creating a large crash and shattering the clay everywhere. “Oh I-I-I am so-so sorry. I-I didn’t know anyone w-was here,” he said between frantic breaths as he was focused on trying to pick up the pieces. “Don’t apologize, I should have knocked. Let me help you.” you kindly offered. You bent down onto your knees to his level to help pick up the broken pieces. “Here,” you said handing him a rather large piece that was still intact. Neville looked up to grab the piece from your hand. He was so caught up by his own clumsiness that he didn’t get a proper look at you. He was taken back by your beauty, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the subtle red tint to your nose and cheeks from the cold, and the way your eyes sparkled in the early morning light. Neville could barely get a sentence out when your hands met exchanging the Terra Cotta. “Uh..thanks,” he said quickly looking back down at the ground.

You stood up and dusted off the front of your skirt. “I’m y/n by the way. Sorry again for startling you,” “Don’t worry about it. Oh um I-I uh I’m Neville.” “It’s nice to meet you, Neville, Sprout is letting me use the greenhouse to grow a plant of mine for a potion. So it looks like we will be seeing more of each other,” you happily stated.

From that moment on you and Neville became the best of friends. Though if you were being completely honest, you longed for more. You had gone out with a couple of guys on small dates over the years and Neville even took Ginny to the Yule Ball but you never really clicked with someone like you did with Neville.

Now you were in your 5th year starting to think about life after Hogwarts. Laying with your head in Neville’s lap under a big tree near the black lake you two discussed your futures and what you think you would do after graduation. “Hey Nev?” you asked interrupting the comfortable silence between the two of you. “Yes y/n?” he responded setting down the book he had been reading. “What do you want to do after we’re done with school?” you asked him while staring up at his face from down below. “I dunno, maybe teaching. I’ve pretty much taught you everything you know about Herbology,” he responded with a chuckle. “Hey!” you gave him a playful smack “though I do suppose I wouldn’t have passed my last exam without you basically teaching me the last chapter.”

“What about you?” the brown-haired boy asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “I think I want to continue my study of potions. I mean imagine developing a potion to finally reverse horrible diseases and terrible curses,” you replied subtly referencing what happened to his parents.

You were the only person Neville had told the story of his parents to. Ever since then you always made an effort to remind him of how proud his parents would be of him. He often doubted his abilities but you how brave and capable he was. You would trust him with your life.

“If anyone can brew those potions it’ll be you,” he said in a quieter tone. “Aww thanks, Nev, I know exactly who I’ll be getting my ingredients from,” you said with a smile. Nightfall was approaching so the two of you made your way back to the castle for dinner. The two of you were an unconventional duo to everyone else but to you, you were best friends and wouldn’t want it any other way.

Later that night you closed your eyes to fall asleep but your mind began to drift. You began to think about Neville which isn’t uncommon seeing that you spend most of your time together but you were thinking about him in a different way.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him like this before but what’s even worse is that part of you wishes it was this way. You had noticed a bit of...tension between the two of you on occasion. Like the time you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the greenhouse so Neville came up directly behind you to get the watering can for you. Or when you grabbed Neville from the library to go and watch Fred and George’s newest prank unfold and you held his hand the whole way there. You so wished that something more could blossom between you two but the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize your friendship. I mean having Neville as a friend is better than not having him at all. You knew you could spend hours thinking about this so you just decided to roll over and try to get some shut-eye.

A few days later you were supposed to meet Neville in your guy’s usual spot after lunch, in the greenhouse, but he didn’t show. You figured he probably forgot (something he does quite often but you secretly think is absolutely adorable) so you left to go and find him. After searching for a bit you went to check for him in his dorm. Before you knocked you could hear faint sniffling from the other side of the door. You gently knocked and called out “Neville? Is that you? Can I come in?” After a few seconds of quiet the door slowly opened to a teary Neville on the other side. You instantly dropped your bag and gave him the biggest bear hug you could. You broke the hug and asked “Neville what’s wrong? What happened?” “y/n why am I a Gryffindor? I’m so pathetic I can’t even stand up for myself,” he said through his sniffles. “Neville you are far from pathetic. You are the bravest, and most kindhearted, and loyal person I know. That’s why you’re a Gryffindor. Your parents would be so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.” you assured. It turns out that a few Slytherins sabotaged Neville’s potion in Snape’s class so it would explode everywhere. When Neville went to confront them he froze which caused everyone to laugh at him. You continued to hug him until he calmed down but you wished there was some way you could get Neville to believe in himself as you believe in him.

About a week later you found yourself sitting in the courtyard reading your transfiguration textbook for your test tomorrow. You were sitting on a small bench by yourself in a relatively secluded area of the outdoor space. You saw a figure approaching and looked up to see none other than McLaggen, someone who you often complained to Neville about on a regular basis. “So sweetheart, there’s a trip to Hogsmeade coming up and you look like you could use a date,” he said with a sickening smirk. “Bugger of Cormac,” you said as you began to collect your things. “Aww that’s no way to talk to me darling,” he said inching closer to you “you know I don’t like taking no for an answer.” Cormac McLaggen was just about the most disgusting guy at Hogwarts. He had asked out pretty much every girl in the school including yourself on multiple occasions. The answer was always a hard no but he couldn’t seem to get that through his thick skull. “I said I’m not interested now I have to get to class. Goodbye.” you hastily replied while trying to get as far away from the douchebag as you could. Before you could get very far he grabbed you and pinned you up against the stone hedge directly behind you. “What the fuck” you screamed as he began ripping open your uniform blouse and putting his hands on your chest and neck. You fought back as hard as you could but he was just too strong.

What you didn’t see was Neville watching you from afar. He had been sitting with Dean and Seamus when he saw McLaggen make his way over to you. He knew that you would never stoop to that level but it did spark a kind of jealousy in him seeing another boy talk to you that way. When he saw him push you against the wall Neville reacted before he could think and sprinted over to you as fast as he could.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Cormac?” Neville yelled as he pulled the asshole off of his best friend. “Just showing her what a real Gryffindor is like since she seems to spend all her time with you, a pathetic excuse of a wizard,” said Cormac as he began to get closer to Neville who was standing directly in front of you as a shield. “Don’t you ever come near her again? You hear me?” Neville threatened without any hesitancy or fear in his voice. “Yeah right,” McLaggen scoffed as he advanced on Neville. However, before he could do any more damaged Neville punched him straight in the face causing Cormac to fall to the ground.

By this time a small crowd was beginning to form. McGonagall broke through the mess of students “What in the world is going on here?” She looked at the scene in front of her and quickly put together the pieces. “I see, students get to class, I’ll be taking Mr. McLaggen to Dumbledore. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Longbottom, I trust that you will make sure Miss y/l/n is alright. Please take her to Madam Pomfrey if she needs anything. Very well.” and she grabbed McLaggen by the arm and made her way back to the castle.

The crowd had dispersed leaving just you and Neville. Neville realized that he hadn’t even checked in on you yet because he was so disoriented from everything that just happened. He quickly spun around to face you. Your mascara was completely smeared, you were sobbing, and your blouse was ripped open leaving your bra and chest exposed. “Can I- can I touch you?” Neville softly asked not wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way. Instead of using your words you just collapsed into Neville letting his arms wrap around you in an effort to keep all the pain and ugly things as far away from you as he could.

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that but Neville pulled away eventually and used his thumb to wipe off some of your smeared black eye makeup and tears. “Here,” he said while pulling off his burgundy Gryffindor sweater and putting it over your head. He saw that you were still exposed and didn’t want anyone seeing you like that. “Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?” he softly asked while rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You shook your head no “can we just go sit by the lake. I don’t want to go back and deal with everyone yet.” “Of course,” he replied.

Neville guided you over to the lake and you two rested under your favorite tree. There were no words exchanged between the two of you. Just comfortable silence and a telepathic-like connection that told you that everything was going to be alright. Neville rubbed soothing circles on your back as you lay your head on his lap. You don’t know how long you two stayed there but you soon realized that you must have fallen asleep because it was nearly dusk and you were in Neville’s arms walking back to the castle.

He carried you back to your common room and up to your dorm. Neville layed you down on your bed and tucked you into the covers. He made his way to the door but stopped when he heard you call out his name. “Hey, Nev? Could you maybe stay? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” “Oh, uh sure,” he said making his way back to you. He didn’t want to make you feel bad for seeming hesitant because honestly, he would love nothing more than to stay with you. However, the last thing he would want to do is to make you uncomfortable or seem like he was taking advantage of you in your time of distress. Plus with his massive crush on you, he gets incredibly nervous any time something remotely intimate or romantic occurs between you two. But he swallowed his nerves and kicked off his shoes to be there for you when you need him most. He would do anything for you. He crawled under the covers and kept a substantial amount of space between you two though honestly, the school-issued dorm beds weren’t that big.

You didn’t say a word but gently turned over so you were facing away from Neville. You scooted closer to him and in a moment of bravery grabbed his hand from the opposite side of the bed and pulled it over you so you two were cuddling. You let out a sigh of relief partly from Neville not pulling away and partly from finally finding some peace from the stress of the day.

“Neville?” you called out. “Yes y/n,” he called back. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” and soon after those few words left your mouth in the still silence of the room, you were asleep.

Neville let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and bravely planted a kiss on the top of your head. Maybe he really was a Gryffindor after all.

#neville x y/n #neville longbottom #neville x reader #neville fluff #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville appreciation #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fic

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hobidreams · 4 years

Text

may 1861.

here, the world vanishes and you are unafraid to dream, to want.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: fluff! words: 1.2k contains: historical au, teenage!yoongi, literally just cute stuff

moonlit throne index. this is drabble ten. start from the beginning?

You knock three times, three short raps, then push open the door to the crown prince’s private library. Sunlight invades the room unabashedly through the intricate window design, bathing the entire space in the warmth of a spring pleasantly acquiescing to summer. You inhale the scent of the aged wooden bookshelves and the worn paper they house. You feel yourself finally relax, having worked all the morning away.

At first, with the silence, you think you’re alone. You try to brush off the disappointment as you wander among the shelving, trying to decide what you will study today. You’ve just pulled a collection of herb properties off the rack when there’s a rustling, a crisp page turned with a careful hand.

“You’re back again?”

The drawl is only reserved for especially lazy times and it seems today is one of them as you peer through the newly-made book hole to find the prince lounging comfortably on the seat beneath the window. He shifts back when you make brief eye contact, drawing in the socked feet on the bench to make room.

“Yes, seja-jeonha. I’m back.”

It’s been three months since he gave you permission to access this normally off-limits space, as you mentioned needing more books to study with in conversation with Eunuch Kim. The first time you came had been profusely awkward: two bodies sitting stiffly across the room, too acutely aware of possibly being scrutinized by the other person to get anything done. But you tried again. And again. Soon, you were stealing away to the library whenever it was possible, if only for half an hour. It gradually became natural for you to share the widest seat, where the most sunshine reached (to ease the strain on your eyes, he reasoned). It didn’t take long after that before you were both ditching your rigid shoes, facing each other while he brought his knees up and you crossed your ankles, taking care that your chima skirt covered anything inappropriate.

Why he still insists on acting as if he’s surprised that you’re here, you don’t know. But you’re happy to play along if it means these afternoons keep going.

“Table,” he says, not even looking up from his book.

“Pardon?”

“Table.”

Okay… Still holding the text you picked up earlier, you shuffle to the desk on the other side of the room and gasp.

“Oh, this is— No…!” You abandon the herbs tome. You struggle to keep your fingers delicate through the excitement as you reach for the new book next to it, one you’ve been wanting to read for so long but could never find for its scarcity. You’d gushed about it to the prince just last week, about how it combines folk stories and myths with factual information of flower species from all across the country. “Seja-jeonha! Did you find this? How did you manage such a thing!”

“No, I didn’t. It arrived with the other books yesterday by chance.”

You don’t quite believe him as you clutch the book close to your chest in glee, practically dancing on your way to the bench. “Thank you,” you say, taking a seat on the spot you’ve started considering yours.

“It was not me,” he insists.

“Thank you so much.” You wiggle slightly, settling in with a wide smile as you watch him refocus on his reading harder, even though you both know he hasn’t turned the page in quite a few minutes.

Even as you peel open the cover of the precious text though, there’s something that captures your attention a bit more. It’s the way the sun has shifted, rays falling differently onto Yoongi’s face to kiss the pale skin beneath his sleepy eyes before scattering out across his cheeks. How the light dapples across the nose that occasionally scrunches in irritation at the countless dust particles floating around, haloing him in a golden glow that you wish you could capture in your memory for safekeeping (and later revisiting, when you inevitably feel the twinge of yearning).

Seeing this view... you think. You want. You wish for this moment to go on for a lifetime. Such desires have never been so startlingly intense and the thought alone is a terrifying one as soon as it slips into your mind but the feeling, the feeling settles in your heart like it has always been there, steadily beating away just beneath your skin.

Yoongi looks up and you snap your head away to the side so hard your neck cracks.

Your face heats with the embarrassment at being caught and you insist on pretending you were looking out the window at the garden, the multicolors bursting into vivacity. You hadn’t noticed the violet flowers coming in but now they seem to be on their way to full blossom, and the sight tugs a smile to your lips. The lotus too, beginning their cycle to beautify the pavilion even more. You’ll ask mother to take you on a walk through the garden soon, under guise of plant care.

“Books are for reading, you know.”

“Huh? Oh. I’m sorry.” It’s an automatic apology, but you know he doesn’t mean it by the gentle half-smile, half-scowl on his face. “It’s just that the pavilion is my favorite. I can’t help admiring it.”

“Why? It’s practically falling apart.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful.”

He hums a noncommittal noise.

You let the subject drop, finally turning to your reading. It’s usually how these days go. Part of you has always wondered if he remembers these brief, but precious words you exchange before the silence takes over; the weighted book sitting in your lap seems to be all the proof you need. So, you sit back. Enjoy this brief respite from reality with dreams quietly blooming in your chest.

“What are you thinking so hard about? You’ll get wrinkles that way.” Later that night, facing you beneath her blankets, mother shakes a hand free to tap you on the forehead.

“Nothing much…” But you can’t stop the sliver of giddiness that runs through you when you think of today and that wonderful book. “I just… I think that I might like someone a lot.” The other L-word feels too big, too heavy to be used right now, even if it’s the right one.

“Oh?” To your great relief, mother knows better than to ask the identity of this mystery person. Just smiles with a fondness that makes you feel even more fuzzy inside. “Are you going to tell them?”

“I don’t think so. But that’s fine. It wouldn’t make a difference either way.” From the very beginning, you’ve known that the distance between you is too vast to ever be breached. To not fall would have been the most painless, but in hindsight, impossible. If concealing the truth will allow you to be close to him, then maybe that will be enough for someone like you.

Mother rolls onto her back. “It’s your choice.” She shuts her eyes. Just as you think she’s drifted off, she says, “just remember that you are always deserving of love. No matter what.”

You think about those words for a long time until you finally fall asleep.

a/n: we’ve made it to drabble 10! phew. & there is so much more to come. if you’re enjoying the series, i’d love to hear your thoughts on it so far ♡♡ your support keeps me going!

#ficswithluv #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts imagines #min yoongi #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #*clenches fist* he's so mfing cute

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gardenergulfie · 3 years

Text

Emptober Day 6: Struggle

Rating: G

Word Count: 2639

Relationships: Geminitay & MythicalSausage

Characters: GeminiTay (Video Blogging RPF), MythicalSausage (Video Blogging RPF)

Tags: Mage Sibs, Post Corruption Mythical Sausage, Magic, Jealousy, When you swear off dark magic but also have a really hard time actually swearing off magic, plus one of your closest friends who killed you to save you is a mage, Sausage is not having a good day, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Relapsing, Dark Magic

Sausage remembered nights spent with these very books, trying to learn to cast. There was this one spell about appearance altering that Kid Sausage had always wanted to cast. He found that spellbook quickly, its dark navy cover a familiar sensation in his hands. Now that he had magic he really should try and cast him again, he’d just have to ask Xornoth-

Wait, no. Sausage didn’t do magic anymore. He’d sworn it off after being freed from Xornoth’s control. No matter how tempting it might be he wasn’t going back on his word. No more dark magic from Xornoth.

With no small amount of regret, he put the tome in the “Donate” pile. Some other more magically gifted kid would have a better use for it. Sausage continued to work, trying to keep his mind away from the thoughts of magic and spell casting. It was really hard, being in a tower filled with magic.

Emptober Day 6: Struggle

AO3 Link

Fic below the cut

It was a good day for Sausage. The feeling of heavy exhaustion that weighed on him constantly ever since he’d been revived was mercifully light today. It had been so light that he had felt good enough to visit Gem and help her with rearranging her tower library. She had a lot of books she didn’t ever read anymore so she was cleaning them out and donating them. She’d been a bit hesitant to ask him for help because of how recently he was revived and her worry of him overexerting himself but he’d convincer that he was fine! She’d been visiting him almost every day for the past week and seen his improvement herself. Besides, moving books around couldn’t be that hard. Gem chucked when he said that out-loud and said he would need to reevaluate that once he saw some of her tomes on the theory of magic.

He was at Gem’s tower now. He had ducked into the building right after arriving, not wanting to spend too much time around the outsides or in his own memory. Gem had greeted him cheerfully from where she was levitating books into two piles.

“Sausage! You made it!” She said, ending her spell and walking over to green him properly. She’d stopped infant of I’m, not sure what the right greeting was for a friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend. He solved that problem by giving her a big hug.

“Its good to see you too, Gem! I’m excited to get to work here! It’s been a while since I left Mythland.” He said excitedly. Gem extracted herself from his bone crushing hug.

“I’m really glad you could make it.” She said genuinely. Sausage felt the same hurt he’d get for most conversations with Gem over these past few days since his resurrection. He’d hurt her and yet here she was, having forgiven him and back to being his friend. It was bittersweet.

“Yeah! I’m excited to get to work here. Was getting restless being cooped up in my home. What should I start with?” Sausage asked as a distraction from his own thoughts. Gem tapped her chin, thinking for a bit.

“Well I need to go a reread my Astrology tones to see which ones I need to keep and which ones I can give away. While I do that, can you sort the tomes in the Illusion section via author? I only want to keep the ones by Mia L Kracklewisp. They’re the best Illusionist and honestly I really don’t use Illusion spells a lot so the other ones are just gathering dust.” Gem explained. Sausage nodded.

“Can do! Just watch, I’ll be done in no time.” He promised. Gem started walking over to a table with a large amount of books on it. She turned her head back to call out.

“If you need anything just ask! I’m just over here, turning my brain into jelly as I try and pick which Astrology books I want to keep out of a decades old collection. Why did I buy so many Astrology tomes?” She muttered to herself as she sat down.

Sausage got to work. It was easy finding the Illusion spell section, just follow the smell of citrus. Most illusionists added secret notes between the margins of their spell books in invisible ink and most of that ink was made with a lemon base. Sausage remembered when he was younger, holding pages up to candle light as he deciphered the hidden messages. He’d read most if not all of Gem’s magic related books in his youth. Sausage remembered nights spent with these very books, trying to learn to cast. There was this one spell about appearance altering that Kid Sausage had always wanted to cast. He found that spellbook quickly, its dark navy cover a familiar sensation in his hands. Now that he had magic he really should try and cast him again, he’d just have to ask Xornoth-

When he finished sorting, he set the books down on Gem’s table with a heavy thump. Gem looked up from the tome on Advanced Cosmology and Lunar Spell-casting she was skimming through and met Sausage’s eyes.

“That was rather fast.” She said, looking at the pile of Illusion spell books on the table. “I must not have that many Illusion tomes.”

“You actually have a pretty good library of them. Most of them are just written by that one author you like so I left them there.” Sausage didn’t mention the fact that he knew exactly what author she liked and that he admired the spellwork they did. Better not to think about magic right now.

“Huh.” Gem said, peeking over Sausage’s shoulder to see the other, much larger pile of books behind him. “Well you’ve finished that task. It’s getting close to midday and I need to finish skimming this book before lunch. You’re free to do whatever you like until then.” She paused before continuing. “I know we’re having goat meat wraps with a chorus fruit pudding. There’s more than enough for two, if you’d like to stay for that.”

“Oh free food? Yeah I’ll stay.” Sausage responded before his brain could fully catch up. He was given free rein of the library while Gem was busy reading and he was trying not to think about magic. This was a bad combination. Gem went back to her reading and Sausage started walking around. He wasn’t looking at the book titles, merely moving around as to distract himself better. It really wasn’t working. Sausage was seeing books labeled “Conjuring Cakes: a Guide to Summoning Edible Food” and “Moss, Lichens and Molds: the Most Fabulous Herbology spells” and “Boommaking: How to Crush Your Enemies with Explosive Magic” (he was pretty sure that last one was a gift from fWhip). He found himself grabbing interesting tomes as he went, ones that would be useful to Mythland or just plain fun for him. Reading them couldn’t hurt, he’d read most of them before. He just needed something to past the time.

Sausage curled up in an armchair with his pick of tomes on the table beside him. He quickly lost himself in the spellwork, reading about complicated equations and runes. It was all great stuff but very familiar. Sausage remembered spending hours with Gem reading these kinds of books while fWhip was out tinkering. The two of them would curl up together to read these thick tomes after school. They both would dream about magic and what they would do when they could cast.

Of course, only one of them got that ability in the end. Gem had been blessed and Sausage had been left behind, no spark of magic in him at all. While Gem trained under the greatest mages in the world, Sausage was stuck rereading the same books, knowing that he’d never be able to cast these spells. It had made him so angry and bitter then and he could feel those emotions rising up again. It wasn’t fair that Gem got lucky while Sausage didn’t. Sausage deserved that magic just as much as Gem did.

Sausage looked back down at the page he wad reading, the paper showing a spell of levitation, the same spell Gem had been using earlier. Sausage remembered how easy casting had been under Xornoth’s control. Even before he was fully taken over, Sausage had been given a book of dark magic that even someone with no inane magic ability could use. There had been a levitation spell in there too.

Sausage wasn’t supposed to cast anymore, he swore off magic, even going so far as to give Gem the Great Staff of Mythland, the one other thing that let Sausage use magic. He was powerless now because he had been corrupted by that power before. He knew he wasn’t supposed to use dark magic anymore but he just felt so angry now. One spell wouldn’t hurt. Just a simple dark magic spell, not even calling on Xornoth, a spell of his own power.

Sausage started mumbling the incantation under his breath. His blood felt warm, uncomfortably so, but the book in his hand began to rise. There was a sound, the sound of someone’s surprised shout, but Sausage hear it fully, too caught up in the magic. He laughed loudly in joy. He’d done it! The powerless Mythlander still could cast magic! He wasn’t even using Xornoth’s power, not really. Even with his blood burning, he still felt too much glee.

“-age! Sausage! SAUSAGE!” He turned around to see Gem, anger at her for interrupting him fading away when he saw her face. She was holding her staff in front of her, magic beginning to swirl around it, and her fave showed only fear. Fear that he’d lost it again, fear that the demon was back, fear that she’d have fight him again.

The force of his guilt hit Sausage in that moment and he dropped the spell. He’d done what he wasn’t supposed to. He’d used magic and scarred the one person who’d forgiven him, the person who killed him to save him. What had he done?

“Gem… I…” Sausage stuttered out, trying to explain himself before stopping. There was nothing he needed to explain, nothing that could excuse his actions. He’d broken his own rule of no magic and it was his own fault.

“I’m going to go outside.” He said, standing up. Gem’s eyes followed him as he walked to the door, only able to shake the fear away and call out after him when he was already outside. Sausage hoped onto the mountain popper and started walking through the snow. He avoided the hatchery, Gem certainly wouldn’t want him anywhere near it after the scene he’d just made. His boots crunched against the icy snow as he just walked. Eventually he grew weary and had to sit down, the exhaustion catching up tp him again. He sat there on a rock for a while, just feeling upset and mad at himself.

“Sausage?” Gem had finally found him, the faun wizard walking up to him. When he turned to face her she stopped, seeing his face. He hadn’t been crying but he was sure that he didn’t look great. The negative effects dark magic have on the body was surely not doing him any favors either. The two of them stood in silence for a bit, neither of them speaking or moving closer or farther away from the other.

“….what was that back there? You were just reading and then suddenly you were casting dark magic. Did the book do something to you? Was Xornoth controlling you again?” Gem asked hesitantly, still nervous to speak. Sausage took a deep breath in. Alright then, he would explain. She deserved an explanation.

“No Gem it won’t either of those things. It was just me.” He started. “I was just caught up in all the magic, all the things you can do that I can’t and I felt angry. I let that anger influence me into make a bad decision. I broke my promise. I said no magic and yet i still cast magic, even worse dark magic.” Sausage hung his head. “Its just so hard when I see you doing it so easily and I know that I can too if I just break my promise and give in.”

Gem listened to his admission, understanding crossing her face. “It must be hard, knowing that you can do it but not letting yourself. How long have you been holding that back? How long have you wanted to cast dark magic after you promised not too?” Gem asked, sitting down next to him. Sausage thought of the weeks since his revival, of the habitual casting of magic and only just managing to stop himself, the constant thoughts that everything would easier if he just let himself do magic, the childhood daydreams of him turning into a mage that he had repressed long ago returning in full force. Honestly it was a miracle that he hadn’t given into his urges before this and also that he’d been able to stop so easily.

“I’ve wanted to do magic forever, my whole life. When I finally could, I used it whenever I could. When I was cured, I promised that I wouldn’t do it anymore. But honestly, I still wanted to do it.” He explained. “There were so many moments where I barely managed to stop myself form using it! It’s been calling to me ever since I tried to give it up. Every day I go without it makes me want it more. And I know it’s bad, I know it has horrible side effects and could put me back under the control of Xornoth but even still I still want to use it!” Sausage’s voice raised as he grew heated about this. Gem listened, always nonjudgmental.

“It isn’t going to be easy to just stop using magic. There’s been stories of mages who start using it and can’t bring themselves to stop, not for long. But there have also been stories of mages who have been ale to give it up, this is something you can do Sausage. This bothers you, not being able to cast magic, and you feel like you can’t fight it. But you can!” Sausage watched as Gem spoke. Normally Gem talking about his struggles with magic and her encouraging him came off as bossy and made him upset, but he wasn’t upset now. It seemed that Gem really wanted to help him. “We can find people to help keep you accountable, stop you from relapsing. We’ll remind you of how well you’re doing and how far you’ve come. We’ll try and figure out other solutions to your problem of wanting to use magic. We don’t have to rely on dark magic and you don’t have to swear off all magic, we can find something that works for you. I couldn’t find a way to help you do magic in the past but I’m stronger now. We can do this. You don’t have to struggle alone.” Gem’s voice was filled with determination and passion. Sausage fully believed that she’d try and help him. He really didn’t deserve this, not after he hurt her so much. Sausage pulled Gem in for another hug, giving her a tight squeeze that he hoped conveyed everything he was feeling that he just couldn’t say. Gem hugged him back.

“This really means a lot, Gem, thank you.” Sausage said honestly as he released Gem from the hug and stood up. He helped the shorter faun to her feet as she spoke.

“Of course! You’re my friend! I was to help you!.” Sausage felt the same bittersweet emotions he kept feeling but this time they leaned more towards sweet. She’s right, he wasn’t alone. Maybe he could fix what he messed up.

“Yeah.” Sausage said. “Now that the emotional talk is over, can we go back and get lunch? You said they were going to have goat meat wraps and I am so hungry for those right now. I might even just grab a wild goat and eat it right now.” Gem laughed at Sausage’s joke and together the two them headed back towards the tower

#mcyt #empires smp #emptober #mythicalsausage #geminitay #mage sibs #i'm taking a bit of a break after this one #so dont expect any more daily uplaods #Gulfie's Writings

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15-dogs · 3 years

Text

partnered up |r.l.|

pairing: young!remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: you and your long time crush, remus, get partnered up for a defense against the dark arts theory. however, once you realize you two misunderstood the assignment, you’re both forced to stay over winter break with each other to make it up.

prompt: new years kiss

warnings: extremely light swearing, mentions of bloodied bandages (it’s super fluffy i promise!!)

guide: (Y/N) = your name, (Y/L/N) = your last name

word count: 3.3K

a/n: this is for @whack-ed and @jamilelucato‘s writing challenge (which you can check out here!) thank you so much for letting me participate! go check out their blogs!!

•••

Remus couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You whispered with Lily at the desk in front of him while your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor turned his back.

Remus’ eyes trained on you, watching your every movement. He was absolutely enamored with the little things you did: the way your nose scrunched up when you laughed, the way your fingers drummed on the table while you spoke, the way your eyes would shift between Lily and the professor, seemingly taunting Remus but just grazing over his figure.

“Moony!” Sirius hissed, nudging Remus.

“What?” Remus finally looked away from you to eye his friend.

“Would you just go talk to her? I think I’m going to lose my mind if I have to see you ogling her every day.”

Remus’s brow knit together with annoyance. “What are you talking about? I don’t fancy her.”

Sirius’ eyes shot open with a taunt. “I never said that you did.”

Remus shook his head, looking away from Sirius back towards your seat. “It was implied,” he grumbled.

When Remus looked at your desk, you were gone. He searched around the room for you and realized that no one else was in their seats. His eyes continued to scan the room until a soft and familiar giggle interrupted him. His gaze snapped up to yours as you stood by his side.

“Were you listening?” you teased.

“I...er…” Remus’ cheeks heated up as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You nudged his shoulder with your hip, your hands clasped behind your back and eyes at the front of the classroom. “I’m just messing with you. We’re partners for this assignment, Lupin.”

His eyes lit up and his stomach flipped as he jumped to his feet. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you chuckled. You nodded your head for him to follow as you said, “What do you want to do for the assignment? I was thinking that we could do a series of essays or a collection of data composed into a journal of our works— something research based, preferably.”

Remus scuffed his feet along the tiling, finding it much more comfortable to stare at the ground. You stopped when you realized that he wasn’t following you. You ducked down to meet his eyes with a lazy smile tugging at your lips that had him weak in the knees.

“Let me guess,” you began, “you weren’t paying attention then, either?”

“I...no, not really.”

You reached out to take his hand in yours, making his heart lurch. You had no idea what you were doing to him, your delicate grasp around his calloused palm. Having the girl he fancied for years be so close to him coupled with his heightened senses was dangerous, to say the least; your smell was intoxicating and he was doing everything he could not to act on his feelings then and there.

“What’s got you so distracted, Lupin?” Your voice grounded him and he attempted to push his thoughts about what he wanted to do to you down, deep in the back of his mind. “You’re usually so on top of your game. You may even rival Lily for wits.”

Remus quirked a brow. “That must be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he joked. You dipped your head in silent laughter.

“I aim to please.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job.”

A wide smile crept onto your face and that familiar feeling of butterflies occupied your stomach as you stared down Remus’s lopsided grin. You quickly let go of his hand, fearful that the feeling would stay permanently if you kept holding it. You rubbed your hands on your sweater before clasping them in front of your body, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Anyway,” you sighed, “we’re doing a project on Defense theory.”

“Oh,” he scoffed with a sense of conviction, “then research-based, of course. When is it due?”

“Monday before winter break.”

Remus pulled a horribly crumpled paper out of his robe pocket, unfolding it with haste. “I’m tutoring every day after classes except for Fridays.” He finally looked up at you, his piercing blue-green eyes staring straight through you. “Could you meet me at the library after class on Friday?”

You nodded lamely, feeling as if you couldn’t get words out of your mouth. “Yeah, Friday after school works for me.”

“Brilliant.” Remus crumpled up the paper once more and stuffed it into his pocket.

As Remus’ friends appeared by his side and escorted him from the classroom, you had a strange feeling settle in your stomach: you weren’t too sure that you could wait until Friday to talk to him again.

•••

Days came and went, each more meaningful than the next as Friday approached. You had no idea what had you so anxious in your last class. You were bouncing your leg up and down as your distracted eyes scoured the classroom. Lily nudged you a few times, whispering an answer under her breath when the professor called on you.

Nearing the end of class, you and Lily were working on an assignment together when she asked, “What has gotten into you?”

Your brows knit together as you eyed your friend. “Is it that obvious?”

An amused smile tugged at the corners of Lily’s lips. “Is this about Remus?”

“And what if it is?”

“Then I’d say you fancy the boy.”

You nudged Lily, rolling your eyes. “Sod off.”

Lily knew about your not-so-little crush on Remus, even before you had told her aloud. You knew he didn’t feel the same so you constantly checked yourself to make sure your emotions were under control around him.

So, at the end of the day, you made your way as calmly yet quickly as you could to the library, hoping to spend a little more time with him to justify your feelings. You didn’t see him there when you arrived but you weren’t discouraged, rather you found a secluded desk that just barely gave you a view of the entrance so you could wave him over.

But time kept passing and you kept waiting. You checked the clock above the shelves of books, hoping maybe you screwed up the times, but you didn’t. You then began to ask around to see if it truly was Friday, which it was. And then, worst of all, you began to think that you misheard him and blew him off.

You waited there for a few hours, deciding to make yourself busy with work. You started the project, checking out a few books and developing your thesis.

You tried to work in the library just in case Remus showed, you really did, but everyone was just too loud. Your head pounded and your tiredness overtook you, so you picked up your things and walked down to the hospital wing in hopes of some draught for your pulsing headache.

As you entered the wing, books in hand, you heard faint whispers from familiar voices surrounding a single bed, piquing your interest. You rounded the corner, finding three boys talking to another boy in a bed. Not just any boy, but him.

“Remus?” you asked.

The three boys whipped around, eyes wide and heads shaking as you approached. “You shouldn’t be here,” James warned.

You ignored him and butt through the crowd to find Remus, asleep and bandaged in his cot. You gasped, staring at the bloodied cloth that was pressed against his cheek. “What happened to him?”

The boys began to mumble excuses, all of which hit your tuned out ears. You frowned, pulling a chair from beside an empty bed to sit next to Remus’s sleeping form. You pulled your bag onto your lap, unloading a few books and papers onto the nightstand.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing, (Y/L/N)?” asked Sirius.

Without looking up, you stated, “We have a project due on Monday and I’m not going to wait to start it.” You finally met the boys’ eyes, yours serious and matter of fact while they were in complete shock. “Besides, I’ll keep Lupin company. Go on, now. I’ll watch him.”

“(Y/L/N)-” James began before Sirius cut him off, eyes wide and nodding.

“No, no, Prongs. Let her stay, Remus will want to see her when he wakes up.”

You pretended not to hear him but your cheeks were dusted with a rosy blush. Sirius clapped you on the back, evoking a small chuckle from you as the boys scooted out of the hospital wing.

As soon as the boys left, you stopped fiddling with the papers in your lap to look up at Remus. You frowned at his scarred face, your hand curling to stop yourself from holding his. He looked so peaceful for the first time in quite a long time, and you realized that you didn’t think you could look away. So you scooted your chair over, freeing your nondominant hand to hold his as you worked on the assignment, a fleet of butterflies occupying your stomach.

You had fallen asleep still holding Remus’s hand later in the night once you had cleared things about your appearance with Pomfrey. You only woke up when you felt someone pulling the papers out of your lap. Your eyes fluttered open, seeing Remus frowning as he held your notebook in one hand and gripped the mattress in the other.

“Did I wake you?” he asked before cursing at himself under his breath. “That was a stupid question, I know I just woke you up.”

You chuckled lightly. “It’s fine, Remus, I should’ve been working on the project anyway.”

The sandy haired boy awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed that you had brought the project up. “Sorry I haven’t been so helpful with that. I ended up...getting into a fight on Friday?”

You furrowed your brow. “I’m sorry, was that a question?”

“Yes…?”

You began to laugh again, but this time Remus joined you. “Well, whatever happened to you, you’re fine now. I’ve been talking to Pomfrey and she assured me you’ll be out of here on Monday.”

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

Remus sat up straight in bed, tugging your notebook fully onto his lap. “Shit, well, we need to start this project then.”

•••

Spending the entire weekend with Remus was heavenly. You two worked day in and day out to finish your research paper, editing everything down to the last period before Defense Against the Dark Arts.

As you entered the classroom, you felt a wave of sadness wash over you; no more excuses to be alone with Remus anymore. You frowned, tugging your robes tighter around your body as you imagined what it would be like for him to hold you.

The time came for you two to announce the synopsis of your paper so you stood at the front of the class with him, straightening out your tie with a shy smile. Remus held up the thick stack of papers you two had written up with a proud glance down at you.

“Miss (Y/L/N) and I have written up a paper on the practical applications of Defense theory-”

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor Wallace interrupted, “you do know that— if you were to do practical theory— you have to design a demonstration, yes?”

You looked up at him, a shared expression of panic on both your faces. Remus finally peeled his eyes away from you to shake his head gently at your professor who simply huffed, pointing you back towards your seats. Students began to whisper and giggle at your misfortune, reveling in the sheer schadenfreude that they experienced as yours and Remus’ ears went red with embarrassment.

You could barely pay attention during the rest of the presentations. It ate you up inside how Remus might only remember you as the girl who helped him flunk his project in Defense. You were so consumed by that thought that you didn’t even realize class had ended until Remus tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, I didn’t know about it either. Don’t be upset,” he whispered. “I hate seeing you upset.”

You flashed a soft smile at him, a warmth blossoming in your chest at his words. You chewed your bottom lip to contain yourself from positively beaming at him as you nodded, feeling more overwhelmed with your feelings for him than before.

“Mr. Lupin and Miss (Y/L/N)?” Professor Wallace called from the head of the classroom as students exited. “Please come here. I’d like to discuss your project.”

That warmth died immediately and was replaced by a crippling fear that started low in your stomach, a void that sucked in all the good things that Remus made you feel.

Remus hopped up from his chair alongside you and walked up to the desk, his lips pressed in a firm line. “Professor, this was all my fault-”

“What in Merlin’s name are you saying, Remus-” you shot out. Remus was not going to take the blame for you, you wouldn’t let him.

“I wasn’t paying attention. Don’t give Miss (Y/L/N) a poor grade just because of me-”

“Don’t say that! It was my fault, Remus, and you know it-”

“Silence! Both of you! Please!” Professor Wallace’s voice began to falter at your bickering. He rubbed both of his temples with one hand, his eyes clenched shut. “I understand that you were ill over the weekend, Mr. Lupin, and I also understand that being a prefect has its tolls so I’m allowing you lot to make up the assignment.”

You and Remus let out a sigh of relief, exchanging a quick grin at one another.

“We really appreciate it, professor-” As soon as you started, you were cut off.

“But I’m not going to make this easy. You two must stay here over break and there will be more work than before. I want to make sure that you’re really listening to my instructions this time around.”

You desperately wanted to protest but you simply couldn’t; you didn’t quite have the words. You weren’t going home for break in the first place but it seemed rather unnecessary to add more work onto what you had already completed with Remus. Judging from Remus’ knit brows, he was having the same dilemma as well. So you two accepted the assignment, not knowing that that break would be the start of something wonderful and new.

•••

Although the assignment had an increased workload, it was easy to spread out among the two weeks that you were given. The best part of all was that you got to spend time alone with Remus in the castle where there were no more than 20 other students to bother you.

On Christmas night, you sat in front of the fireplace editing your essay as Remus practiced spells on a small paper crane he had folded. You looked up for a moment, smiling at how peaceful and handsome he looked with his sleeves rolled up and shirt untucked.

And, entirely unlike you, the words just...came out of your mouth. “You’re quite handsome like that, you know.”

Remus blushed, his eyebrows raised as he slowly turned his head to face your mortified expression. “I...thanks.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, looking down at your paper again. “Right, yeah.”

But that wasn’t the last time something of that nature happened. Remus told you he was “driven mad” when he saw you practicing your spells for the demonstration, and you promptly told him that he drives you mad, to which you both stopped talking to each other for the rest of the night out of sheer embarrassment.

Perhaps it was the fact that you two were cooped up together for nearly a week and a half then, or perhaps it was the fact that you two had felt something there for quite some time but neither of you had the guts to do anything about it. Either way, both of you were acting entirely stupid around the other, wondering if they knew by now how you felt about them.

The days leading up to your presentation dwindled and so did the time you had to spend with Remus. You assumed that he likely would not want to talk to you afterwards and just want to spend his New Years alone, seeing as how he must be positively sick of you. So you found it rather strange when you finished your (outstanding) project, that Remus settled beside you on the couch in the common room with his old radio so you two could listen to the New Year’s Eve countdown.

“In my town,” he explained, “we used to gather in the center and celebrate New Years. I quite liked it. First year not being there.”

You cowered. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you’re not there now.”

Remus shook his head furiously, wrapping his arm around the back of the couch where you sat. “I wasn’t going home this year anyway. And, besides, (Y/N), you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who was distracted.”

You crossed your legs and swung around to face Remus, admiring his scars. “You keep talking about being distracted; what were you distracted about in the first place?”

“Funnily enough,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “it was you.”

You snorted and shoved Remus playfully, although he didn’t seem to be smiling. “Come off it, mate.”

“I’m not joking. I remember it because you looked particularly beautiful that day.” Your eyes went wide at his words and you were unable to speak, so he continued on. “You always look beautiful when you take notes. You chew your bottom lip when you write a long sentence down and you give a little nod when you understand something. It’s all very adorable, if you ask me. I couldn’t stop staring at you and Sirius called me out on it.”

You were positive that your face was redder than the fire that illuminated you, your hands sweating as you tried to rub them on your pants as inconspicuous as possible. You could barely focus on anything but your ever-beating heart, pounding ferociously in your chest. The only thing that you could hear above it was the 30 second countdown coming from his radio.

“Have you ever had a New Year’s kiss, Remus?” you asked, your voice just barely louder than the announcer’s.

Remus leaned in closer, his hand inching up to your waist and curling around it. “I haven’t.”

“Neither have I,” you admitted as you crawled up close to him. “But I fear that I’ll be making a rather large mistake if I don’t do this tonight because Merlin knows when I’ll get the courage to do it again.”

“3...2...1! Happy New Year!”

The second the words registered, you held Remus’s face in your hands, pulling him into a long overdue kiss. Your world spun around you as his lips moved perfectly in sync with yours, feeling like they were supposed to be there all along. You pulled away a moment later, placing one last chaste peck as he followed your lips, desperate for more. Remus rested his forehead against yours, his calloused hand running its course down your cheek before he tugged you onto his lap, clasping his hands around your back.

“I have to admit,” you began, “I’ve never been more glad to flunk a project in my life. Starting the New Year this way is good luck, I believe.”

Remus chuckled, pulling you closer to him to plant yet another kiss on your lips. “Well then, love, I suppose we’ll have plenty of good luck this coming year.”

As your heart eased into a steady rhythm and your worries dissipated, you smiled and mumbled against him, “I suppose we can never be too careful.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @pandaxnienke

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 3 years

Text

Elf-On-The-Shelf Trouble

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Castiel, Jack (all platonic)

Warnings: None.

Summary: Something unnatural enters the bunker - unnatural and Christmas-y.

A/n: Happy Holidays, my loves!

It had been a quieter week for hunting almost as if the monsters had taken the holidays seriously. This gave you and the boys time to yourselves to properly enjoy the time off. It was two days before Christmas and you wanted to take advantage of the spirit.

Sam had taken Jack into town for a grocery run in which you had requested a few extra ingredients to create a nice holiday feast while Dean and Castiel were in the library clearing up the spare decorations.

In the kitchen, you pushed your sleeves up and began to strategise how you were going to tackle the challenge. You stooped down and opened up the cabinet to retrieve your cookbook. Well, it started as ‘your’ cookbook but overtime, Sam and Dean added to it until it was just a mashup of the Kitchen’s Greatest Hits.

You gathered the ingredients for gingerbread and eggnog only stopping briefly when Dean walked in, dusting his hands of ornament glitter.

“The library is clean as a whistle and Cas is heading out for more of your tinsel crap.” He approached the bench with the bottle of rum. You turned around to pick up a spoon and smiled at the jab.

“Calm down, Scrooge. It’s festive.” You replied and then sighed. “All we’re missing is a star for the top.”

“We could just stick Cas on there instead.”

The thought of Castiel perched at the top of the tree with his trench coat made you laugh which infected Dean until you were both in stitches.

The pair of you had just started folding base ingredients together when Sam and Jack announced their arrival, finding their fellow hunters in the kitchen. They carried in the grocery bags and set them on the table, Sam starting to unpack while Jack approached you with a grin.

“Hey.” You greeted. He was curiously happy and it made you smile.

“I met a nice old lady in town today and she gave me something that I think you’ll like.” Jack told you while you caught the small bottle of nutmeg powder that Sam had tossed over.

Unscrewing the bottle, you tilted your head. “I do love surprises.”

As the words flew out of your mouth, in your face, was a doll dressed in a white-collared red stocking, blue eyes staring to the side, a smile completed by its rosy cheeks.

You almost jumped back when you saw it. In a world of demons, ghouls, wraiths - no real monster creeped you out more than the elf on the shelf and Jack had brought one home as a gift for you.

“Oh...!” You didn’t really know what to say so you gave a small nervous laugh, taking the doll in your hands. “Jack, this is so... sweet...”

The nephilim beamed. He had never given a gift before and Sam was right - it filled him up with so much happiness.

“You like it?” He asked and you replicated the smile.

“Of course, I do. Hey, why don’t you set this little guy down, go upstairs and get changed and come back to help me with these cookies?” You suggested quickly.

Jack cast his eyes down at the bench stop filled with various ingredients and was overtaken with excitement to learn how to make gingerbread. “Okay.”

He set the elf to sit upright on the kitchen table before disappearing to change into more comfortable clothes. You waved the young boy off and then cast a beady look at the toy, not noticing Sam’s smirk.

“Wow. For someone who enjoys the holiday spirit, you really hate the Elf-On-The-Shelf.” He chuckled and you shook your head, eyes still fixated on the small object.

“He looks like he knows something.” You said suspiciously. “And why is he always smiling?”

Sam chuckled and then mentioned wanting to go for a walk. You m nodded and let him leave just as Jack returned with a bright grin and rolled up sleeves. “How can I help?”

You had a plan laid out for him but it turned on its head when Dean ‘donated’ his bowl of dough to the nephilim, “You can start with that.” He said and grabbed a towel, wiping his fingers of any excess. “I’m going to set the table.”

You thanked him for the help and watched the man leave as well.

Now left with Jack, you taught the boy everything you knew about gingerbread. As the day was pleasantly quiet on the hunting front, you both spent the majority of the time baking and getting the occasional helping hand from one of the brothers or Jack. Castiel had appeared briefly to help but he confused salt with sugar and received a temporary ban.

When night came around, gingerbread was successfully baked and you were exhausted. Thankfully, there were no hunting drama about hormonal teenagers summoning the Krampus which meant that you could finally rest.

After bidding everyone a goodnight, and warning Dean of the repercussions if he tried to steal a cookie early, you climbed into your bed and were swept away in a peaceful dreamless sleep.

He-he-he...

A giggle came from right beside your ear. You swat out of instinct and sat up in a daze. The room was dark and you thought your mind was playing tricks but then you made out a small movement across the floor - it looked... red?

Now on high alert, you grabbed your gun from beneath your pillow and jumped out of the covers. You walked silently across the room and flicked on the lights, pointing your gun at an empty floor.

Weird.

Then you heard the giggle from the hallway and you spun around to wrench the door open only to find nothing. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a sigh until you heard quick receding footsteps and a shout.

“Sammy!”

You bolted for Room 11, almost at the door, when you skid to a halt. Standing just outside Dean’s room was the elf doll that Jack had brought home - it was holding a kitchen knife.

Hell. No.

You raised your gun and fired into the dolls chest sending the scent of burnt cotton into the air. Instead of dropping to the ground, the doll turned to you and vanished in a wisp of smoke.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t over. You felt a weight on your shoulder and Dean emerged from his room just in time to see the elf raise its blade. The older Winchester pulled out his own gun and took a shot, effectively disarming the elf as the weapon clanged on the floor.

You jumped and reached back to pull it off - but it wouldn’t budge. This was like dropping into a nightmare. And just when it seemed like it couldn’t get worse, you felt a bite at your neck.

“Get it off!” You screamed, flailing around the corridor as panic actually set in.

Suddenly, a grey sweatshirt came into view. “Okay, okay - hold on!” Sam instructed. You could tell he was trying to help but when he yanked at the doll, the pain in your neck increased and you struggled against the tall man.

Sam huffed, a little frustrated with how much you were moving which made his task more difficult.

“Damn it, Y/n - hold still for Sam.” Dean told you tensely.

And you stopped moving - you stopped only to give the blonde-haired man a scathing glare and a piece of your mind.

“Don’t make me shoot you - ow!”

“Sorry!” Sam apologised. “I need an angel blade.”

Dean whipped around to fetch the one from his room when he saw Jack jogging over after being woken up from the commotion.

“Kid, angel blade - now!”

The nephilim’s eyes glowed and, instantly, Sam’s hand wielded the angelic weapon. The man was hoping to cut the thing off but one touch of the silver and the elf unlatched itself, springing back.

You gasped in relief, leaning against the wall as you clutched your neck, noticing a few spots of blood. Dean and Jack rushed over to your side hurtling questions to ask if you were okay.

“Do you feel any odd... sensations?”

You rolled your eyes at Dean. “I was bitten by a Christmas demon - not a radioactive spider.”

Dean made a quick comment about how you could never be too sure but was interrupted when when Sam called out for the three of you.

“Guys?”

Looking over at where he stood, you noticed that his eyes were fixed on the elf who had gotten to its feet and was walking in the direction of the fallen knife.

Dean pointed at the doll, “We should run.”

Without a second thought, the four of you bolted through the hallway into the furthest room you could find - a high pitched giggle nipping at your heels.

“In here!” Sam ushered everyone into a storage facility. Once the lock was clicked, you all let out a collective sigh.

You pressed your hand against the wound and found that the blood had mostly dried up. “What the hell was that?”

“A seriously pissed elf.” Dean said instantly. “Scared the crap out of me when it blew my door open.”

You blinked at him as something awful dawned on you. “It blew your door open?”

“That’s what I said. There were three knocks and then bam!”

You turned towards the door of the room and quietly walked closer. You pressed your ear against the dark wood and waited.

“Why didn’t it go inside?” Jack wondered and the Winchester shrugged, not sure how to answer.

Then his eyes widened.

“I spilled holy oil on the floor when I knocked the bottle over.”

Knock, knock...

Knock.

Dean was at your side instantly helping you brace the door as it rattled, the elf trying to gain access. Jack paced nervously and Sam pulled out his phone as he attempted to do some quick research in the chaos.

You glanced up at the hinges and saw them loosen slowly. “Cursed object?” You guessed.

Sam gnawed at his lip as he thought, “Maybe but it hasn’t done anything curse-y.”

“It bit me!” You snapped.

Dean pushed harder while frowning at your argument. “Y/n, you didn’t let any of us eat your cookies - I’d bite you.”

“It’s not a cursed object...” Sam realised as he scrolled through his phone quickly. Dean slammed his shoulder against the door with a grunt and a shot a scowl in his brothers direction.

“Did you see that thing with the knife? It’s cursed!”

“No - Dean, I think it’s been possessed by the - well, the literal Spirit of Christmas.”

You frowned at the man and tilted your head. “Are you saying Santa bit me?”

Sam looked up from his device at your admission and exhaled at the foolish answer, not surprised that you had given it. He then looked over at Jack, the young boy had been the one to bring the elf into the bunker with innocent intentions.

“Jack, when the woman gave you the elf, did you walk under any evergreen?”

With furrowed brows, Jack thought hard as he recalled his steps that morning in the small town.

“I had just picked up the pie and left the store when the sweet old lady gifted it to me. Then I crossed the street to meet with you at the car.”

It sounded simple enough until you remembered a small detail from when you ventured the same road several weeks ago. “The lampposts have fresh evergreen leaves hanging between them. You would have crossed beneath it to get to Sam.”

“That’s probably what set the spirit off.” Sam nodded while you helped his brother brace the door. “Okay - there’s an ancient fable here that says ‘without a sacrifice, the spirit comes down, until presented with a stem of green from the town’ - a stem of green?”

“Like a branch from the tree we have downstairs?” You asked, feet almost sliding out from under you as the spirit slammed against the only thing keeping it out.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed at the tiny toy. “You just had to convince us to celebrate the holidays!”

There was a scowl on your face the moment his tone hit your ears. Turning to the man, you slapped his shoulder.

“How do we know that this isn’t because of your ‘grinchy’ behaviour? Honestly, I’d set a psycho-Christmas spirit on your ass too.”

“Believe me Y/n I haven’t started being-“

“Guys?” Sam’s call drew your attention and that’s when you and Dean realised that it had gone quiet. Leaning forward you pressed an ear to the door and listened to what seemed like little footsteps running off.

The spirit appeared to have moved on to another part of the bunker and you weren’t sure if that was comforting or more alarming. You and Dean stepped away from the door with a small sigh of relief.

Now, you needed a plan to kill the spirit and quick.

All heads worked together to form a rough sketch of how to tackle the issue before unlocking the door and creeping out of the room. With minimal noise, you all managed to get to a hallway opening that allowed you see a top view of the crows nest and a part of the library where the tree was - and the damn elf.

It was sitting there on the edge of the table with its rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and uncomfortable smile.

Oh, how you hated that thing.

There was a nudge to your right, pulling you from your thoughts and you saw that Dean and Sam had disappeared to lay their plan in motion which left you with the nephilim. Nodding at the boy, you stayed quiet before retracing your steps and headed down the hall towards Dean’s room. Thankfully, it was only two corridor turns away.

Turning the handle, you quickly entered and spotted the weapon that was needed hanging on the wall above his desk. You grabbed it, knocking a few pens over in the process, and bolted out. As you neared Jack, you heard a commotion downstairs which could only be Dean and Sam attempting to distract the spirit and you sped up.

Sliding to a stop, Jack presented you with the sharp-edge of a branch that he managed to snap off while the elf was occupied. You took it from his hand and stealthily moved down the stairs, staying out of sight. You reached the tree and loaded the branch into the crossbow as you heard a body fly against the wall, hitting the opposing bookshelf, and a seperate grunt that landed on the floor by the foot of the tree.

Taking in a deep breath - it was now or never.

You whipped around the side of the tree, spotted the little red holiday-demon pinning Dean to the floor and fired the evergreen. The branch sank itself into the elf’s soft body and flung it away from the Winchester who gasped for air. Sam got to his feet, rolling out his aching shoulder and walked over to where the Christmas entity laid still.

You, Dean and Jack did the same, still a little jumpy in case the thing attacked.

“Is it over?” Jack asked curiously.

Suddenly, the spirit shook the walls for a few seconds before combusting into a tall white cloud that dropped small snowflakes.

Talk about dramatic.

“Yeah - it’s over.” Sam sighed.

The door to the bunker screeched open, reminding you to oil the hinges later, and Castiel walked in with eyes fixed on the boxes in his hands. He didn’t notice the messed state of the bunker until he approached the four of you in the library, disheveled and breathless.

“What happened in here?” He frowned, blue eyes darting about for the danger. Jack smiled at his fatherly-figure. “We were attacked by a holiday spirit but it’s just a pile of snow now.”

Castiel was thoroughly confused at how this chaos transpired and opened his mouth when you caught his inquiry.

“It’s a long story.” You said quickly and diverted the attention to the item in his hands. “What’s that?”

The angel would get himself the details a little bit later and entertained your question. He moved forward and set the first box on the table before opening the second and a beautiful gold light sprang forth. Reaching in, Castiel gingerly picked up the contents and revealed a small glowing ball.

“I believe you said that you wanted a star on the top.”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing and Dean playfully bumped into your shoulder.

“Happy holidays, Y/n.”

Looking to your side, you saw Sam and Dean smiling back at you - they knew.

There weren’t enough words to describe what it was you were feeling in that moment but it was strong. Forget the trees and presents, Team Free Will 2.0 was your forever gift.

Castiel handed the glowing star to the nephilim and stepped back beside you, Dean and Sam - the four of you watching as Jack reached up to placed it on the top where it hovered silently, emitting its warm light.

It was perfect.

“That reminds me... I found this on my way back.” Castiel moved over and picked up the second box and presenting it to everyone in the room. In his hands, and sitting neatly inside, was a little santa-hat wearing elf with his smile.

“I believe that you put them on the shelf.”

You swallowed nervously and glanced over at the brothers and Jack.

Sam caught your look and nodded.

“Yeah - I’ll get the holy oil.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #dean x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #sam x reader #sam imagine #castiel imagine #castiel x reader #jack kline x reader #jack kline imagine #spn x reader #spn imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #xmas special

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amchara · 3 years

Text

Road to Hell (Wait for Me, I’m Coming) Part Two - Kit / Ty Hadestown AU

(Part One)

Ty rubbed his face tiredly, as he stared at another chicken-scratch parchment in the Unseelie Court’s library. He looked up and saw that Dru was fast asleep, gently snoring into her crossed arms, while Anush was dazedly flipping through pages of a huge leatherbound book. Mark had left a while ago, muttering something about getting some food for them but he hadn’t returned yet.

Ty looked down at his research, the collected notes he had written over the last day and a half and suddenly it seemed pitiful, compared to the task ahead. Ty could feel the panic rising, his chest tight and he concentrated on the feel of the rough paper underneath his fingertips. He had to get Kit out of Hell and he was taking notes, like he was back in the Scholomance and this was an assignment, instead of… instead of the most important fucking thing in the world.

He hadn’t told Kit how he felt yet. They had only just re-entered each other’s lives over the past two months and were still doing a wary dance as they relearned each other’s steps after three years apart.

There had been a hesitant scene in the L.A. Institute’s atrium when Kit had strolled in, almost as if he had never left, all sunshine gold hair, eyes the colour of a clear autumn sky, and a husky voice with just the slightest hint of an English accent.

There had been the angry, sparse time when Helen had sent them on a patrol together and they had strode along in miserable silence until Kit had finally stopped him and asked where Livvy was- and Ty had snapped back at him, the wound still raw, that he was trying to make amends for everything he’d done but he’d had to do it alone and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. The fragile moment when Kit’s face had crumpled briefly and he told Ty he was sorry he had left and that Ty had had to do it alone. And the appearance of the Raum demons a minute later, interrupting them- but then the glimpse of how it could be, as Kit had stopped him after the attack and insisted on drawing the iratze on Ty’s forearm, his face a study of concentration as they sat in the car before driving back to the Institute.

There had been fleeting, glorious moments in the training room when they had sparred, the pretence of combat a freeing sensation for Ty, as he felt able to finally touch Kit and the look Kit had given him, his breath an uneven whisper on Ty’s collarbone after he pinned him to the floor, almost helping Ty make his decision. But it hadn’t been enough - and the agonising choice of whether to knock - and still being a coward and walking away, almost too quickly, from Kit’s door.

And then that moment in the clearing. When Kit had done the stupid, honourable Herondale thing and sacrificed himself for the rest of them. Ty didn’t think he’d do the same if the situation was reversed - but then again, he was a Blackthorn.

From far away, he could hear a tearing, ripping sound and he came back to himself, noting the confetti of yellow parchment floating down to the ground around him, as he paced back and forth, paper strewn around him and his hands moving almost mechanically as he shredded his carefully taken notes.

Anush looked over at him, finally noticing Ty’s pacing and his eyes widened. And just then, Mark re-appeared in the doorway, carrying a large tray. He let out a curse as he saw Ty, almost knocking over the tray in his hurry to put it down. He crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Ty, gentle as he placed his hands over his brother’s as he clasped them a firm grip. This time, Ty let him in and he drew in a few deep, shuddering breaths as he let the small remains of paper drop.

“It’s all right,” he told Mark. “I have them all memorised.”

Mark nodded. “It’s wise to not leave the notes to Hade unguarded,” he said. He paused. “Although perhaps a bit unkind to the brownie cleaners - but no matter, I’ll arrange to speak to them.”

There was a stretch of silence. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Ty said. “I can’t wait too long- we don’t know if time moves differently in Hades compared to the rest of Faerie and I can’t risk it.”

Mark’s eyes searched Ty’s face - not seeking eye contact but a different kind of reassurance. He seemed to find it, and he dropped Ty’s hands. “Then we’ll prepare to go together - you’re not going alone,” he said. A chorus joined in - a rousing if slightly terrified response from Anush, and a sleepy affirmation from Dru, who appeared to have just woken up.

Ty felt a brief moment of terror that he was bringing more people into what his research told him was likely a suicide mission… but the ice cold shiver of memories and Livvy’s pleading, drained face swam into view and he swallowed his protests. He didn’t think he could go through it alone again.

—

The ivory keys of the grand piano were always immaculately polished and Kit wondered whose job it was to clean them. His job was to play the music and he thanked - well, it wasn’t God and it wasn’t the Angel Raziel - but he thanked his lucky stars that he had picked up some basic songs from Jace the previous summer when he had visited the New York Institute, and that Jem had considered learning to read music by sight an essential part of a well-rounded education, alongside Kit’s Shadowhunter training and mundane school.

In contrast to the bright electric fluorescence that lit the warren of overly warm machinery-filled rooms that Kit had started to refer to as Hadestown, Persephone’s conservatory was different, with its faded white, latticed walls and high glass ceilings letting in the smallest fraction of outside light.

It reminded him of where he had lived with Jem, Tessa and Mina - in… C- In Cir- Kit’s mind stuttered. He didn’t know how long he had been here - the days were starting to blur together and he was worried he was starting to forget more than just the little things.

He stared down at the piano keys as the large ornamental clock on the wall struck eleven. Like clockwork precision, Persephone waltzed in, her movements sultry but sulky as always. She threw some new music books at Kit and he caught them awkwardly, balancing them on his lap.

“These ones - I don’t care which one you play first today,” she said, sitting down on the long fainting couch across from him, her black hair spilling over the white satin fabric as she rested her head. Kit tried not to stare at her deep decolletage, which was prominently framed by the tight red dress she was wearing. She noticed as he turned away and her gaze was hungry as she looked at him.

Kit looked down as he chose a music book and blindly opened it to a first page he saw. He started playing, a crooning jazz number singing out underneath his fingers. He didn’t know if it was because he was in Faerie or the spell he could feel he was under but he was a much better musician here than in the mundane world. The tight, lost look on Persephone’s face began to relax as the melody echoed in the conservatory.

As he finished the first song and began another, his movements almost automatic, Kit allowed himself to think again, of escape - of returning to the land of the living - to his family, to the Shadowhunter institutions he was slowly becoming accustomed to again, to… Ty. To what might be between them, although he had almost strangled that hope, locked it away tight and deep inside his heart. What they had resurrected - if that word could be used - given previous circumstances was almost a miracle, Kit thought, hard fought for and one that he hadn’t been about to throw away on foolish too-soon declarations of love. Even so, when he had seen that faerie arrow aimed straight at Ty’s heart, he hadn’t hesitated. He might not be ever able to tell Ty how he felt but at least he had been able to show it in his actions, he mused.

And he wasn’t about to give up on leaving this hellhole, although each unrelenting day in this dull, dark and depressing place of dust and hollow-eyed workers pulled at that hope. But he clung to his memories - to the now-dimly lit memories of the outside world. Of his love for a black-haired, grey-eyed boy with his sharp intellect and fierce love of his family, who saw the world in a different light than most, and was - had been willing - and maybe, might be willing again to share it with Kit.

The last note rang out as he finished the song and he drew his hands back, muscles aching. He had been playing for nearly an hour. In the sudden silence, Persephone let out a ragged sigh.

“Who is the love that you play for, boy?” she said, her voice ancient and rough. She rose from the couch and crossed the floor, her dress swishing across the smooth marble. “I have heard many love songs in my years… but yours is one that I haven’t heard in an eon. Tell me their name.” Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But Kit remained silent. He knew instinctively if he said Ty’s name, he would lose it. He shook his head, his lips pressed together.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, and she reached out, as if to stroke his brow. Kit evaded her and stood up. He had been coming to play for her for several times now, and he had started to learn her ways. He needed a distraction. “I saw that crack in the wall- is that new, Persephone?” Kit lowered his voice as he gestured across the room. “I know you’re a captive as much as I am. Let me help you- we can escape together and then I will tell you.”

Persephone’s laugh was as dry as a winter’s wind as she sized him up. “Oh, that’s adorable, my sweet-” she said. “But I made my choice long ago and it’s--” her eyes suddenly moved past him. “It’s the love I deserve,” her voice suddenly was filled with honey and springtime.

Kit knew that Hades had arrived, and he tried to quell the fear rising in him as he turned around.

The man - fae - god or whatever he was - was standing in the doorway, casually watching them.

“Leave him,” he said in his deep voice. “I desire your company.”

Persephone swept past Kit without another word and draped herself across Hades. “Of course my darling- I am here. What shall we do?”

Hades took a moment to whisper into her ear and Persephone looked uncomfortable but let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Of course.”

Hades smiled, with a devilish twist and he pulled her away, starting down the hall.

But then he stopped and looked back at Kit. “Your shift here has ended - get back on the assembly line.”

Kit looked down at his rough worker’s uniform, smeared with rust and dust and he forced himself to nod evenly - he knew from past experience that it was unwise to argue with Hades.

Hades’ firelit eyes swept over him. “And once that is over - come see me in my office.”

And at that, Kit knew that he was in trouble. Hades had summoned him twice since his arrival to his office, after the initial contract signing. Each time afterwards Kit had found himself weak and gasping on the floor outside, his mind blank and unsure of what had passed behind the walls of the office. Nothing good, he thought grimly - and that was likely the cause of his increasingly fuzzy memory recall.

He needed to escape and soon. He nodded again and Hades left with Persephone. Kit started to make his way to the factory floor. On his way out of the conservatory, he bumped into a small, bird-framed girl with a luminous beauty and whose too-large eyes must have been lively once but were now faded and glazed over with the thousand yard stare that all Hades’ workers had. That he might soon have. “What’s your name?” Kit asked the girl, trying not to sound desperate.

She looked up at him. “I- Eu- I…” she looked puzzled and sad. “I don’t know.” she said.

Kit felt a stab of despair.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be added / removed!)

@jesse-is-spiraling @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @thechangeling

#kitty fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #my fanfic

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

Text

The Stuffed Niffler

Ron Weasley x GN! Reader

Word Count: 1618

Warnings: sliiiiiiightly suggestive at the end but only if you squint

Summary: Ron’s s/o loves collecting stuffed animals. For their six month anniversary Ron, obviously, got one to add to the collection. Mr. Cuddlesworth soon became a prized possession but as business builds, it seems Mr. Cuddlesworth has sprouted legs and walked away...

***

It wasn’t an unusual thing for you, a habit formed as a young child that has stuck well into teenage years. Your first stuffed animal was a small yellow bunny, a neat black and white polka dot bow tied around its neck. It wasn’t long after the first bunny that you started to grow your collection.

Over the years you got over being embarrassed about something so trivial, they were soft, fluffy, and they made you happy so why should you sacrifice your own joy because someone said it was childish? It also came as no surprise when you started dating Ron Weasley, the boy was like a teddy bear himself and he found the collection of well over twenty stuffies quite endearing, to say the least.

“You’ve dropped one! I reckon he’s proper offended now.” Ron gasped, pointing at a stuffed shrimp laying on the floor.

You laughed, going to go pick up the shrimp, “I think he’ll get over it, babe.”

“I don’t know, he’s telling me the only way he could even think of forgiving you is if you give me a kiss.” His tone was as serious as he could manage as he said it, watching as you shook your head at him with a smile.

“Oh? Then I better hop to it then.” You beamed, walking over to Ron.

Both of your hands came up to grab his cheeks and pull him down to your face, placing a sweet kiss to his already puckered lips. Ron hummed with happiness as he felt your lips on his, then his hum turned to a whine at you pulling away far too quickly for his liking.

“No time to waste, I’ve got to get them all organized before I join Hermione in the library to study for Ancient Runes.”

It was around your six month anniversary when Ron gifted you your most prized possession, Mr. Cuddlesworth, the stuffed niffler. Ron had even gone as far as giving the thing a few sprays of his cologne before giving it- advice given to him by George- and had already named him, knowing you were quite rubbish when it came to names.

“Honestly, Y/n, Jeremy? There wasn’t a better name? You picked Jeremy?”

You have had Mr. Cuddlesworth for a few months now, the smell of Ron unfortunately having faded due to how often it was smothered to your chest as you slept. You were sure sleeping would be impossible without it, it was your favorite out of the whole collection and you took special care of the thoughtful gift.

Exams were coming up now and you were more busy than ever, hardly finding time to spend with Ron. He of course understood and graciously declined studying with you- you got a bit hot headed when studying- and was feeling a bit deprived of love. That’s how he got his brilliant idea, concocted from clinginess and dramatics, Ron sought out to borrow Mr. Cuddlesworth while you were busy these next two weeks. He was well aware of how much you loved the stuffie, well enough to know that you slept with it hugged tightly to your chest every night- meaning it would smell just like you. Ron, however, failed to realize just how near and dear this stuffed animal was to your heart.

You had been too tired to change out of your clothes the past few days before getting into bed, throwing yourself onto the mattress was enough to get you to fall asleep. You missed Ron, were stressed about exams, and really needed a better studying schedule next year because this was not working out. Luckily, Friday had arrived- albeit slowly- and you had spent much of the night with Ron, Harry, and Hermione in the common room relaxing. It felt like home, being tucked under Ron’s heavy arm, his lips finding your hairline every so often, that you were a bit reluctant to part from him and go to bed. But you did, knowing that Mr. Cuddlesworth would be waiting for you to snuggle until you could see Ron in the morning.

Only, when you got to your dorm, ready for bed, Mr. Cuddlesworth was nowhere to be found. Under the bed was bare- save for a few dust bunnies- your trunk held the infamous shrimp, a few run of the mill teddy bears and a stuffed dragon, Jeremy, but no niffler. In little time you had turned the whole room upside down, much to your roommates’ dismay, and still no sign of Mr. Cuddlesworth.

Now you were panicking, how could he have just vanished? Surely the people in the dorm didn’t take him, and Merlin, the look on Ron’s face if you had to tell him you lost Mr. Cuddlesworth. Then and there it was decided that he couldn't know, you’d find him in the morning and all would be well. You just had to get through tonight.

All was not well, most of the night was spent tossing and turning in bouts of panic and hopelessness when you thought about where the stuffed animal could be. You had never taken it out of this room, never needing to because Ron was always there. When morning arrived, far too soon for your liking, you were still racking your brain as to where the animal could be but now you were doing it on little to no sleep.

Your eyes had bags, lids droopy, and your feet shuffled as you walked into the breakfast hall. A night of no sleep and restlessness was not a good look, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. Sitting next to Ron, you let your head rest on his shoulder, a short grunt coming out as a greeting.

“You alright, love?” Ron asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You nuzzled into his side, “Just tired, that’s all.”

You were able to rest during breakfast, Ron offering more comfort than Mr. Cuddlesworth, and he smelled of his cologne which was an added bonus. The rest of the day passed in similar fashion, Ron taking your mind off of the missing niffler. That is until the sun started to set and you were reminded of your unfortunate situation.

The common room had dwindled down to a soft buzz as it got later in the night, most people retiring to their dorms, most people apart from you, Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

“It’s getting rather late.” Hermione stated, looking toward the clock on the wall to her right.

You felt the panic rise again, not wanting to leave Ron just yet, not when Mr. Cuddlesworth wasn’t there in his absence. Harry agreed with Hermione and soon they both left to their respective dorms, Ron and you staying cuddled on the couch. Your eyes started to droop as you gave in to his warmth, nearly fully asleep before Ron woke you with a chuckle that vibrated through his chest.

“Don’t you think we should go too? You’ve been tired all day.” He cooed, sitting up causing you to sit up too.

You weren’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, panic, or stress from oncoming exams, maybe it was everything piled all together, but you felt your waterline start to be weighed down by the onset of tears. Ron must’ve noticed your full waterline glisten in the dull firelight because his face went from that of a soft smile to worry within seconds.

“What’s wrong, love?” His hands came out to pull you into him.

The sob that left your lips was choked and inevitable, “I’m so sorry Ron, but I lost him! I lost Mr. Cuddlesworth and I can’t sleep without him an- and please don’t be mad I feel very sensitive.”

You buried your head into his chest, his hand rubbing small circles onto your back as he tried his best to calm before speaking.

“Don’t panic, darling, I’ve got him. Missed you, that’s all, and he smells like you.” Ron admitted sheepishly.

His big hands coming up to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks as you stopped crying, letting it all sink in.

“What?” You sniffed.

He nodded, “I missed you and I figured he’d smell like you so I took him. He’s on my bed, I’ll go get him.”

You reached around and grabbed a pillow from the couch, arm swinging back around to whack your boyfriend over the head. Delivering a few more blows with the pillow before speaking.

“You had me worried sick! I thought he sprouted legs and walked away!”

You then punctuated each word with a smack.

“Why.”

Smack

“Wouldn’t.”

Smack

“You.”

Smack

“Tell me?”

Smack

Ron grabbed the pillow from you before you could continue and caught his breath before speaking.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t think you were this attached to the thing.” He said incredulously.

The heat rose to your cheeks, “Well, when you can’t spend the night with me I have him. Reminds me of you.”

“Git’s replaced me, then?” Ron huffed jokingly.

“No!”

You both started to chuckle at the situation before Ron pulled you to his lips, hands caressing your cheeks with adoration. He pulled away and you leaned forward to peck his nose, making his smile grow and nose scrunch, before you spoke.

“I think I’ve figured out a way to solve the problem.” You hummed.

“Yeah what’s that.” Ron asked, placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

You smiled up at him, “I have to spend the night in your room of course.”

Ron smirked, nodding in agreement, “Brilliant. Only we need to make sure we don’t wake Harry. He gets a bit cranky without a full night's sleep.”

taglist:

@amourtentiaa

#ron weasley imagine #Ron Weasley #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley headcanon #Harry Potter imagines

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chemicalvelocity · 3 years

Text

Happy Friday! I need therapy

So I wrote a fic for Fingers in my mouth Friday! Hope Y'all enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No warnings apply

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Word Count: 3545

Read Below the Cut:

Dean's not a creep. He's not, he swears. It's just that he's... noticing things now that he's not on high alert for monsters anymore.

He remembers the first evidence of Castiel he'd ever seen, an angry burn scar of a handprint. He thought it was a demon's for christ's sake. He hadn't paid mind at the time to the fact that it took up his entire deltoid.

Now, however, he was absently tracing its outline after a shower, staring more through the mirror than at it while recalling the events of breakfast. Jack had playfully started the comparing hand sizes game that seems to entertain kids so much.

Dean hadn't even put any thought into it until it turned into everyone else doing it to humor him; which culminated in Dean foolishly slapping his palm to Cas's and then realizing just how much smaller his hand was.

Naturally, he'd joked it off and found his way out of the conversation, acting like it wasn't a bruise to his ego. He had thousand-yard stared his way through a shower, and now, here he was.

He carefully fitted his hand over the scar tissue on his shoulder, and yep, there it was, a literal physical reminder of Cas's massive hands. He got over himself as quickly as he could and threw on his clothes before going to the garage to wash Baby.

That turned out to be a bad idea, as many of Dean's ideas do. Cas was sat in a lawn chair with the tunnel doors cracked, rolling a joint. Dean had pointedly ignored him, turning to rinse the car until Cas spoke up.

"Would you like some?" He asked, looking over at Dean with a twist of his slender fingers as his tongue darted out to wet the rolling paper's adhesive. Dean swallowed.

"Y'know that shit's bad for you, right?" Dean grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. He opened a drawer to pull out sponges and brushes, tossing them into nearby buckets and setting them down near Baby's rear fender

"I think you know that's not true." Castiel hummed, placing the fresh joint between his lips, bringing the flame of his zippo to the end, and inhaling deeply.

"Whatever, Stoney baloney... Don't you usually smoke out on the roof, anyway?" Dean asked, filling up the first bucket with hot water and suds, the second with only cold water.

"It's raining," Cas replied, voice husky from the strain of holding in a hit. "Frankly, the Bunker is well ventilated enough that I could smoke in the library... where we still keep ashtrays on the table, but I figured I'd come in here to keep it away from Jack." He mused, blowing his lungful of smoke out the door.

"Right... Gotta say Cas, I'm sure second-hand smoke doesn't affect 20-year-old Nephilim toddlers." Dean chuckled, saturating the sponge in the first bucket and slung the soap across the Impala's roof, leaning up to scrub away the dust and bugs that come from hauling her back and forth across the Midwest.

"No, but I don't want to influence him, he's very impressionable, you know." Cas flicked the collecting ash into a labelless beer bottle that sat discarded in his chair's cupholder.

"I wonder where he could've gotten that from. Claire came to visit for one weekend and all of a sudden you're Bob Marley!" Dean teased, and Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

"I am not a musician, nor a Rastafarian, Dean. Claire simply pointed out that I think too much, and that cannabis is known to help." He drew in a deep hit and outstretched his arm to Dean, the cigarette balanced between two fingers. Smoke twirled lazily into the air around him.

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes before coming over to pluck the smoke from Cas's possession. Cas watched him appraisingly as he took a drag, then another, and Dean almost choked when Cas's lips parted for the stream of smoke to travel neatly into his nostrils.

Okay, so Claire taught him how to french inhale. Dean idly wondered if he knew what ghosting was, before passing it back and returning to his task, pretending like his lungs didn't burn from the comparative lack of practice.

Dean hit the wall hard, his breath punched out of him with a grunt. He scrambled to his knees and whipped his head around to see Sam in a similar position nearby. Cas was still standing though now surrounded by three, very pissed-off demons, one of which had Dean's angel blade. Dean attempted to gather himself and help out, but his vision went sideways and he steadied himself against a table, opting to call out the angel's name, stupidly.

Cas had slashed the leg of the demon to his right and grappled the one to his left. As the first one went down, his palm met its forehead and smote it out of its meatsuit. The middle one charged him, but he spun the demon in his grip, shielding himself by launching his captive forward onto the blade, then seizing the neck of the remainder, holding him in place firmly. He turned to the bewildered hunters casually.

"Did you need him for anything else?" Dean bit down on his tongue in a failed attempt to reintroduce moisture to his mouth.

"N-No, Cas I think we're good, knock yourself out..." he rasped as Castiel tightened his grip on the demon's throat, and light burned out from under its skin. Sam and Dean had picked themselves up off the floor by now and made their way to the middle of the room.

"Good work, buddy," Dean panted as Cas piled up the bodies at his feet, and wiped blood away on his jeans. "Guess you hardly need us."

"Of course I do, You made an excellent distraction." Cas smiled and while Dean was sure it was a genuine statement, definitely felt the hit to his pride. Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit. Sam snorted at something and walked out. Dean didn't know what, but he didn't want to hit him any less for it.

"Hey, Cas, I have a bit of a concussion from the hunt the other night. Can you work a little magic?" Sam rubbed at his eyes, setting his laptop aside. Dean raised his eyebrows from his seat, taking a sip of beer. He wouldn't have asked Cas to expend any healing energy on himself, but Cas didn't protest. Instead, he hardly looked up from his book and snapped his fingers. Sam visibly relaxed. Dean did not.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I'm gonna go grab some grub, probably just pick up a pizza and some beers or something." Sam held his hand out for the impala keys. Dean tossed them to him with half a mind.

When Sam was gone, he was still staring at Cas in confusion.

"Can I help you with something too, Dean?" He quirked an eyebrow over his book. Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Nope, no, I'm okay, just a few scrapes. Can't have you wasting your mojo on that... I was just wondering why you didn't, uh, y'know," He tapped two fingers to his forehead and Cas's eyes turned up in a half-smile.

"I don't need to do that to heal."

"Oh... okay." He'd already asked a weird question, probably best not to pry into why Cas always touched him to heal. He tipped back the rest of his beer and fumbled around for an excuse of some sort to break the silence, but Cas stood first.

"I'm going to go find Jack. Let me know when Sam's back with dinner." He passed Dean with a warm squeeze to his shoulder. Dean watched him go, then realized just how long it's been since he's been laid. Too fucking long, apparently.

Yeah, no. Way too long. Dean's half-convinced Cas is fucking with him, too. His suspicion stemmed from Cas's sudden love of eating every meal with them and requesting things like wings or fries.

"Morning sunshine, Sam and Jack already left to go check out a case. I made pan...cakes..." Dean's sentence fell flat when his eyes met Cas entering in a half-buttoned-up shirt. His long fingers slipped buttons into place as he yawned his greeting and trudged his way to the coffee maker.

Dean was a little concerned that he noticed Cas's hands before he noticed the toned and tanned chest underneath the shirt. He ran a hand down his face and moved to pour more coffee. Cas passed over the pot and turned to the stack of pancakes, tossing two onto a plate and proceeding to destroy them with fruit and whipped cream.

"When was the last time we cleaned our firearms?" Cas asked, swirling his finger through the toppings of his breakfast before popping it in his mouth. Dean set his mug down, a little too hard. Cas gave him a look.

"Are you fucking with me?" Dean tried not to sound petulant, but he can't catch a single break. Cas bit his lower lip, and then cleared his throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Was his response, innocent and hid behind a sip of coffee. Dean pursed his lips.

"You- you don't?" Dean was momentarily taken aback. Was he so unbelievably tense that he'd imagined the whole problem?-

"No, Dean, you've been staring at my hands all week, I have no idea what you're talking about." he deadpanned.

Dean's face burned. He didn't think he was being obvious about it or anything. Cas was observant, though.

"At first I thought you were just insecure about your hand size, but surely you'd have gotten over that in a day. Then I did some research and decided to... Encourage you." He continued casually as if Dean wasn't praying for the earth to swallow him whole.

"I uh, appreciate that, Cas... Um, what conclusions exactly did you draw?" Dean squeaked out because frankly he still wasn't sure what was going on here.

"You may have a sexual preference for hands, which makes sense, given your previous statements regarding slapping." Cas hummed into his coffee and, yeah okay Dean needed to end this conversation before he melted from shame.

"Okay, right, got it, I'll stop staring." He managed, grabbing his mug and turning to leave before Cas grabbed his arm. He glanced down at the sudden warmth around his wrist, then up to meet Cas's cobalt gaze.

"I never told you to stop," Cas said calmly, loosening his grip to slip his fingers into Dean's hand and pull him closer. "Dean, I researched it." His expression was earnest, and Dean shuddered involuntarily.

"Listen, man, It's not like, a thing... It's just, well, you have nice hands, and you kinda marked me... with your very large hand." Dean still wanted to disappear, but Cas didn't seem too bothered.

"I wanted to tell you, I touch you when I heal because I like the excuse to," Cas murmured, raising his other hand to cup Dean's jaw. Dean's breath hitched. "I enjoy the warmth. Everything else is always so cold." Cas whispered, running his thumb lightly across Dean's bottom lip. Dean couldn't stop the noise he made as it caught on his nail.

Cas's pupils grew wide, and he curiously pushed his thumb deeper. Dean closed his lips over it and sucked gently, noting the faint taste of the strawberries Cas had put on his pancakes. Dean pulled back before he embarrassed himself any further.

"Uh," Dean's brain replied dumbly. "Can I kiss you?" His dick helped with that one.

"I just put my thumb in your mouth and you feel the need to ask-" Cas's snark was cut short by Dean pressing him up against the counter and slotting their lips together. Cas gripped the front of Dean's shirt and kissed him back like a man dying of thirst. This is why Dean's thought process is filled with question marks when Cas puts a hand firmly on his chest and pulls back to speak.

"I don't think the kitchen is the best place for this." He rumbled into their shared space. Dean perked back up when he realized the proposition.

"Did you wanna finish your breakfast first? I can't guarantee we'll be back in here any time soon." Dean wiggled his eyebrows at the angel.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Dean," Cas smiled. "I'd love to. While I do I think you probably want to go get ready." Cas wiped the look off Dean's face when he reeled him back in for another kiss.

"O-oh, yeah, okay. Meet you in my room in ten." And then he was speedwalking out of the kitchen.

Dean turned off the shower after a very thorough cleaning and wrapped his towel around his waist, hurrying back down the hallway to his room. Cas was sitting on the bed patiently.

"Hello, Dean." He smiled, reaching up to tug off his tie. Dean's throat went dry again.

"Hi," Dean was clutching his towel like a lifeline. Cas observed him fondly as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Did you want me to put something on? Or..."

Cas just chuckled and beckoned him closer. Dean stood between his legs and his heart dropped out of his ass when Cas took his hands and pulled gently, signaling for Dean to kneel. He lowered himself slowly to his knees and looked up at Cas, expectant, and not at all freaking out on the inside. Cas leaned in to kiss him again. That, he could work with.

"I want you to put your hands on my knees, and you can't move them unless I say so, is that alright?" Castiel spoke when they parted.

Oh.

Apparently, hand kink isn't the only thing Cas researched. Dean felt the command go straight to his dick. He nodded hastily, but Cas said nothing, only waited, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, Cas." He breathed, and Cas grinned and shrugged off his shirt, tossing it into Dean's desk chair.

"Good. Get comfortable." Dean sat back on his heels and placed his hands on top of Cas's thighs. Cas placed both of his hands on Dean's shoulders, rubbing small circles in the muscle before he slid them upwards to massage the back of Dean's neck. When Dean was staring up at him with hooded eyes and humming his appreciation, Castiel's patience grew thin.

Cas held the back of Dean's neck steady, tracing the fingers of his right hand down Dean's temple and across his lips. This time, Dean didn't have any reservations about darting his tongue out to meet them. Cas inhaled deeply through his nose and pushed his index and middle fingers into Dean's mouth.

Dean sighed and let himself go, he lapped at Cas's fingers like he was starving. He held Cas's heated gaze and felt his dick wake back up, twitching underneath his towel.

"So good, you're such a good boy for me, Dean." Cas praised. Dean thought he might pass out. The feeling of Cas inside him, even if it was just his fingers sliding along his tongue was heady. He looked down and took notice of the increasing tightness of Cas's pants. Cas slid his fingers out and leaned back on his elbows. Dean panted, his fingers gripping Cas's thighs with the effort of keeping still.

"Would you like something else, Dean?" Cas smirked down at him. "All you have to do is ask." Dean screwed his eyes shut and swallowed his pride.

"I want," He let out a shuddering breath as Cas ran a hand through his hair. "I want to suck you off."

"You can move your hands now." Cas hummed and leaned his head back. Dean practically sprung forward, ignoring the ache in his calves as he latched his mouth onto one of the angel's nipples. His hands made quick work of Cas's belt and fly, tugging firmly at his pockets to get them off. When Cas's flushed erection came free, Dean leaned forward to mouth at the head and cup his balls.

Cas wove a hand into Dean's hair and pulled. Dean moaned around the cock in his mouth, drawing a deep groan from Cas in response. Dean drank in the sound and relaxed his jaw to swallow him down further, bobbing his head rapidly.

"Dean." Cas sounded wrecked, and Dean's head snapped up to attention.

"Yeah?" He asked, breath heaving as he leaned up to his eye level.

"May I-"

"Anything, Angel, seriously." He pressed his lips to the heated flesh under Cas's jaw, sucking hard and nipping gently.

"I want to fuck you." Cas gasped, leaning into Dean's mouth. Dean nodded and climbed to his feet to get the lube from his nightstand. Cas sat up and wrenched Dean's towel away. His eyes roved Dean's body appreciatively before pulling him down on the bed. "Lie down on your front, please." He purred, and Dean was on his elbows in an instant, handing back the lubrication.

Cas caressed the contours of Dean's back reverently, before gingerly parting Dean's cheeks and licking a broad stripe across his hole. Dean felt his whole body twitch.

"Fuck, C-Cas..." Dean whined out, completely sideswiped by Cas's impromptu rimjob. He helplessly thrust his hips back against Cas's grip. Castiel reeled back a single hand and gave Dean's ass a hard smack. Dean dropped his face into his pillow with a keen from the back of his throat.

"Sit still, Dean. Let me take care of you." He growled, mouthing kisses from the base of Dean's spine to the cleft of his ass again. He laved his tongue in tantalizing circles, fucking it in and out nimbly and drawing a chorus of breathy sounds from the hunter.

"Please, Sweetheart... I need you... Need you inside me, c'mon." Dean whimpered, writhing under the sensation of Cas's hot breath and slick tongue. Cas finally gave in and sat up, reclaiming the bottle of lube to squeeze a sizeable portion directly onto Dean's entrance. Dean shivered from the sudden cold, only to cry out again when Cas's strong index finger slid in with very little resistance.

Cas continued to pepper Dean's shaking shoulders with wet kisses as he thrust his finger in, curling it hard against Dean's prostate and savoring the faint sound of Dean nearly wailing into his pillow. He slid in a second finger and scissored them back and forth to make way for a third. At this point, Dean had lifted his head and turned towards Cas with pleading eyes. Cas leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

"You're doing so well, Dean... Are you ready?" Cas mumbled into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Christ... Yes, Cas, please." Dean managed to get his knees under himself and Cas slicked himself up, working the head of his cock into Dean's fluttering hole. He clutched at Dean's hips and slowly rocked himself in deeper. "Fuck!" Dean yelped, trying to meet Cas's thrusts to no avail.

"Relax, my love." Cas moaned, rolling his hips into Dean, captivated by the catch of skin around him. "Do you want to move?" He asked, and released his iron hold on Dean's waist with a chuckle when Dean nodded eagerly. Dean thrust back against Cas with abandon. A surprised gasp was drawn from both of them as Cas sped up his thrusts to match. Dean was going to come if Cas didn't slow down, so he gathered his thoughts enough to speak up.

"Cas, wait. Can I flip?" He panted, and Cas's onslaught came to a stop.

"Of course, Dean." He pulled out carefully and leaned away for Dean to position himself on his back. Castiel admired the flush that spread down Dean's neck and covered most of his chest. He leaned forward to suck dark hickeys into Dean's collarbone to contrast. Dean reached down to guide Cas back inside, sighing amorously when he was seated again.

Cas rocked in and out once more with renewed enthusiasm. He snapped his hips forward, causing Dean to arch up off the bed with a shout. Stars burst behind his eyelids as Cas lifted Dean's legs to wrap around his waist and repeated contact his prostate shot sparks through his bloodstream.

"Ah-fuck, Cas, Baby... I'm gonna come. Are you almost there?" Dean gasped and reached up to pull Cas down for a vehement kiss when he grunted his confirmation. Dean felt the heat of his release coil deep in his gut and rocked up into Cas with a fervor, moaning heavily into Cas's mouth with each collision of their hips.

Then the tension in Dean's core snapped, and he was coming without so much as a moment's attention to his dick, clinging to Cas's shoulders with a fucked out whine. Cas kept going and Dean's synapses felt like they were being deep-fried as Castiel's stuttering hips drove him in deeply one, two then a final time as he emptied himself into Dean with a low groan. He then pulled out slowly and rolled off a now depleted Dean to spoon him.

"I think I'm in love with you." Dean wheezed, and Castiel grinned into his hair.

"I'm glad I could help you come to that epiphany. I love you too, Dean."

#Spn #spn fanfiction #destiel fanfic #my writing #minors dni #dean winchester #Castiel #Fimmf #Happy Friday!!#destiel #deancas #casdean #dean x cas #supernatural fanfiction

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

you were my crown

chapter 1

Ao3

hi, I finally got tired of waiting. I’ll do my best to update weekly. hopefully you all enjoy :)

~^~

The rest of the kingdom woke before Jens.

He came to when a thick strip of sunlight was already streaming through the windows, further illuminating the already-sparkling gold tones of the room. The ends of the chandelier glittered at him from underneath the canopy at the bottom of his bed. His crown sat forebodingly at the foot. None of these rays woke him. It wasn’t the sight but the sounds, heavy, repetitive bangs on his door accompanied by a familiar voice.

“Rise and shine,” Senne de Smet shouted through the wood. “You have less than an hour to get your fancy gear on and eat before the boys get here. I’d recommend opening this door within the next five minutes unless you want cold breakfast.”

Jens groaned then let the complaint melt into a sigh as he burrowed further into his silk sheets. They had crept down along his arm overnight, slipping off his shoulder, and he resisted the urge to pull them back up to his chin and curl into the warmth. He had already closed his eyes again, head still drowsy and body still heavy, glittering dreams still holding him under. Vague images stuck with him, flashes of silver and blue, scars and swords, and he rubbed them away as he pushed himself up onto one hand. The muscles in his arm trembled under his weight, not yet having enough energy for the day, and it was this thought that finally drew him out of bed and towards the door.

He didn’t care much to cover himself, pulling the heavy mahogany doors open in just his sleep trousers. It didn’t matter that he was shivering in the autumn air, barefoot and bare-chested as he was. Senne’s threats always fell true, and Jens’s stomach wouldn’t forgive him for making it survive the day without a proper breakfast.

Senne was leaning against the far wall, and he grinned cheerfully as Jens peeked through the door. Much too cheerful for this time of day. He did hold, however, a steaming plate of food that contained a collection of Jens’s favourites, so he could possibly be forgiven. He slipped in past Jens and Jens followed with his nose in the air, the delicious scents wafting up with the smoke and instantly making his stomach rumble.

“I was worried I was going to have to barge in here again,” Senne said, still too lively as he plonked the breakfast plate down on the table a few feet from the foot of the bed.

Jens sighed but dropped into the head seat, slumping against the plush back with his head drooping forward. He rubbed at his eyes again and murmured, “Remind me why I never punished you for that.”

Senne shrugged. “Because you know you wouldn’t survive without me.” He stole an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the table and tossed it into the air, catching it one-handed. “Otherwise, you’d be stuck with Sander.”

Jens tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You make a good point. Why’s he not the one banging down my door?”

“He’s already leading drills. You let all your friends do the work for you while you’re all wrapped up in dreamland,” Senne teased, flicking the side of his head.

Jens was grateful when the older boy dropped into the adjacent chair at his right instead of leaving. “Don’t abuse me, I’m the Prince,” he muttered, collecting his fork and knife from next to the plate and beginning to prod at a sausage. “When are the others getting here?”

“Shouldn’t be long. They’re likely already on their way.”

Jens nodded, getting some food onto his fork and then staring at it. His stomach pleaded and protested at once. He couldn’t use the excuse that it was too early, but it was certainly too soon after waking.

Senne kicked him lightly under the table. “Eat your breakfast. With your schedule today you probably won’t get anything else until your dinner.”

That wasn’t unusual, and it also wasn’t what Jens wanted to hear. “You’re like an overbearing parent all on your own.”

“I’m only two years older than you,” Senne reminded him, fixing the cuffs of his blue tunic with apple still in hand. “It’s just also my job to look after you.”

“As my guard,” Jens muttered, “not my mother.”

Senne heaved out a sigh. “Sadly, I’m not lucky enough to be the queen, no.”

Jens snorted and didn’t bother with a reply. His breakfast was already getting hard to swallow, but depending on how the day would go, it could be the only meal he would have for a while. He could manage to shovel it down as long as he didn’t also have to try to speak. Senne didn’t seem bothered, lounging in his own chair and eating his apple, and Jens appreciated it. It was always nice, to have a sound outside of himself to break up the silence. Senne and Sander knew this, and often indulged him, but while Sander filled the space with chatter and teasing and on the most drastic occasions, music, Senne provided a more stoic presence. A silent but steady company. Jens appreciated it most in the mornings.

But even this couldn’t last forever.

Senne rose from his chair and rounded the table to chuck the remnants of his apple in the fireplace. Jens rolled his eyes but didn’t protest—even if it lay there long enough to smell, it would be ashes by the time Jens returned to his room tonight, and that was enough for him. Senne set a hand on his shoulder on the way past and squeezed. “I trust you can handle yourself from here?”

Jens hummed around another mouthful of food. “I’m good. Thanks.” He wasn’t, but he just had to scrape up the remnants of this meal and then he could join his friends, so maybe he was. Either way, Senne had better things to do than hang around and babysit him. He would be fine.

“Ah, he remembers some manners,” Senne teased, squeezing his shoulder once more before heading for the door. “Have fun and don’t die.”

It was, honestly, sound advice, and Senne’s tone wasn’t entirely teasing. Still, Jens huffed between bites and waved him off. A few seconds later he heard the heavy door fall shut. It took him considerably longer to get through the rest of his breakfast, each swallow seeming more difficult as his stomach started a protest. Eventually he managed to clear the plate, and then he took another minute to pour and down a cup of water.

He moved to his wardrobe and plucked out the first tunic within reach. There wasn’t much variety to pick from, anyway. (There was, but he wouldn’t have been caught dead in anything frilly, so it was slightly more limited. He also heavily favoured red. Exceptions were made for grey now and again.) Alongside the red tunic, he dug out one of dozens of pairs of black trousers. For now, he’d be allowed to dress himself. Depending on what his mother had planned for later in the day, this was subject to change.

For now, though, he was free, and finally on his way to the library.

This was not to do some—or any—reading. The library was reserved for members of the castle or invited guests only, and most members of the castle were not frequent visitors. Few of the knights had much interest in the dusty books on offer, and the majority of the servants preferred gossiping and get-togethers once they were free of their work. This meant that, most of the time, the library was relatively empty and easily taken over, and this was often what Jens and his friends did.

The library was quiet when he entered, as expected. It was already brightly lit through the long stained-glass windows, dust shimmering in the air as it fell from ancient texts. The books were endless, spreading out for what seemed like miles in every direction. Jens had gotten lost between the shelves as a child. There was, however, a wide open space in the center leading from the door right to a staircase at the back, which led up to an attic space Jens believed no one had entered in years and that was even dustier than down there. Various tables and sofas took up this section of the floor, mahogany and velvet creating a rich mix of red and brown.

On one of these sofas lounged Robbe Ijzermans, Jens’s best (and once only) friend.

He was spread across it with one leg kicked up along the cushions and a book open in his hands, seeming deeply immersed. He looked up, however, as Jens entered, and immediately grinned and snapped the book shut—after marking his place.

“You’re late,” he teased.

“I am perfectly on time. You’re early,” Jens retorted. “The others aren’t even here yet.”

Robbe waved a dismissive hand. “Well, I don’t have as far to travel.”

It was true that he didn’t, so much so that he might have been even closer to the library than Jens. There were not many residents of the castle who weren’t either of royal blood or a servant, but Robbe was an exception. He had lived here with his mother for as long as Jens could remember, as the woman was a long-time friend of the Queen’s and a previous Lady, until her Lord had up and vanished without a word. She had been distraught, and unable to look after her young son alone. Jens’s mother had taken them in on a rare act of love that no one had ever dared to question.

Jens didn’t care what the reasons were, only that it had given him Robbe. It made them almost more than friends—brothers in all but blood. A lot of the time Jens wished they shared the same lineage. Robbe would have made a much better successor to the throne. He was already treated like a Prince by the entire kingdom.

Robbe shifted to set both feet on the ground so Jens could sit next to him. He realised they were another mixture of those rich tones, blood and rust mingling as he slumped back and let their shoulders press. Robbe, like Jens, had a preference in colours and an aversion to frills.

“You can’t be tired when you’re likely only awake,” Robbe protested, but he didn’t push Jens away.

Jens let his head loll against the backrest and narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I ate breakfast. I dressed. I know I’m talented at many things, Robbe, but even I can’t do that in my sleep. Senne gave me a very kind wake-up call a while ago, don’t worry.”

Robbe huffed. “Senne is nice. You’re just whiny.”

Before Jens could protest, the door burst open again and permitted loud greetings.

Moyo Makadi entered with his arms spread, pushed along on a food trolley by Aaron Jacobs. Jens instantly covered his face with a hand, both to block out the sight of more food and Moyo’s cheeky wave. Moyo hopped off the cart and barely managed to help Aaron draw it to a stop before it crushed Jens and Robbe’s legs.

“Oops,” Moyo said. “Hello, you royal asses.”

Robbe snorted as Jens finally dropped his hand and rolled his eyes. He was unable to stop a smile, however, as Aaron immediately slipped in to gather him and Robbe in a hug. Moyo simply slapped hands with them both and dropped onto the closest free space, another lush sofa set at an angle to the one Jens and Robbe already occupied. Aaron settled next to him and they finally struck up a conversation.

“So, what flashy business is happening today that gathered us all here?” Moyo questioned, mock-intent as he rested his chin on his fist and raised his brows at Jens.

Jens shrugged. He wasn’t always kept in the loop regarding this information, himself. “A trial of some sort, I think.” It would, inevitably, cut this little get-together short, for him at least.

“I would love to be you,” Aaron pouted at Jens. “You get to know everything.”

Jens didn’t bother pointing out that this was far from the truth, as he in fact felt he knew very little. “You can take my place if you like,” he offered, shrugging.

Many would think him ungrateful, entitled, and maybe that is exactly what these thoughts made him, but he was really just tired. He was exhausted, constantly. He shouldn’t have been, considering he was literally served everything on a silver platter, and didn’t really have to work for anything as far as the outer world was concerned. Sitting on a throne as a pretty accessory was hardly effort, after all.

He thought maybe it was this that tired him. Monotony was supposed to be tiring, wasn’t it? He was tired from doing nothing while also doing everything. He was tired of being expected to do it with a regal aura he wasn’t sure he even had.

He might have also been tired of doing it alone.

“Are you giving away the place of Prince, now?” Moyo cocked a brow, then slapped his hands together. “I’ll gladly take any going positions.”

“You can take Jens’s and I’ll take Robbe’s,” Aaron agreed.

Robbe made a small sound of protest, sitting up straighter and removing the support under Jens’s shoulder, leaving him to tilt sideways and almost knock his face into Robbe’s back. “I didn’t offer any position. I’m perfectly content right where I am.”

“You basically live in your own castles anyway,” Jens pointed out. “But you don’t have to sit in and watch my mother judge some poor commoner.”

“Aww, Jens is just too soft.” Moyo poked his knee.

Jens rolled his eyes.

“Well, at least you don’t have to travel around in a carriage on an empty stomach to get here,” Aaron said, finally leaning forward to cast his gaze over the feast they’d brought with them.

Robbe huffed, amused, and settled back alongside Jens. “You can take your fill now. All of this is for the two of you. Jens and I already ate.”

“What?” Moyo blinked at them, then stared at the food, then at Aaron. “It’s just for you, then. I actually got up in time and already had my breakfast, too.”

Aaron’s eyes widened as he glanced between all of them and then back at the cart. He let out a long breath and patted his stomach. “Alright. We can do it.”

Jens snorted as Robbe burst into giggles and Moyo simply shook his head. Jens enjoyed these moments more than anything else, the ridiculous ones with his group of friends in which he could just be himself. He didn’t have to be polite or polished or princely. He didn’t have to be anything. He could just laugh without anyone looking at him in awe or judgment.

He really didn’t have to worry about these three being in awe of him.

Moyo turned to him with a wrinkled brow, breaching the gap between them to poke him in the stomach. “It’s probably a good thing you’re opting out, you’re getting a little soft there.”

Jens batted him away. “So what if I am?”

“Don’t they have you on some strict, fancy diet and a training regime? Thought they didn’t want a pudgy Prince.”

Jens crossed his arms over his stomach and scowled.

Robbe made a small noise of protest next to him. “Jens would be basically skin and bones by your standards. I’d rather see him soften up than fade away.” He nudged Jens teasingly, but gave Moyo another pointed look.

Moyo’s expression gentled. “He knows I’m kidding. I just think it’s crazy, some of the expectations like that they have of you. I couldn’t be a knight, either.”

“Sander loves being a knight,” Robbe pointed out.

“Doesn’t Sander just love everything, though?” Aaron asked. He had a smear on his chin from some sort of sauce, even though Jens couldn’t spot any amidst the array of food.

“He loves being a pain in my ass,” Jens muttered. Sander Driesen was a nuisance more than a knight, a member of his personal guard, and one of his best friends. He was the same age as Senne, just two years older than the group of them, and still he appeared younger. Jens could speak about (tease) Sander in a manner that didn’t feel quite as appropriate with Senne.

“Maybe,” Robbe acquiesced, grinning over at him. “But at least you know it’s with love.”

“Well, who doesn’t love our dear Royal Highness,” Moyo teased.

Aaron took another chunk of food. “And his royal heinie.”

Robbe choked on his breath. Moyo, however, immediately started cackling, and Aaron joined in once Jens flipped them off. Eventually, Robbe’s giggles joined the fray, and this was eventually what roped Jens into letting out a quiet laugh of his own. They were too much, sometimes, but he thought he quite liked it that way.

The door burst open once more to permit a fluffy cloud of white hair. Sander poked his head in and raised his brows at all of them, lips twitching slightly in response to their laughter. Jens gave him a little wave and he strode into the room, still fully decked out in his chainmail with a navy cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

“Ahh, there he is,” Moyo grinned. “The skinniest knight in the land.”

Sander pulled a face and flipped him off. “I can be skinny and still know how to skin you.”

Moyo’s brows rose, but he quietened, sinking back in his seat with raised hands.

“I’m guessing you’ve come to whisk me away?” Jens sighed.

“Afraid so. I’ve been waiting all morning to come sweep you off your feet,” Sander said, hand placed mockingly over his heart as he smirked. “I almost challenged Senne to a duel to get to your chambers.”

Jens rolled his eyes skyward.

Robbe giggled, and Sander narrowed in on him and finally softened, as he usually did. It was little secret that most of the fellow castle members favoured Robbe, and that Sander in particular had a soft spot for his doe eyes. Robbe was the reason he was here, after all.

Sander rounded the food trolley and sat on the arm of the sofa next to Robbe, ruffling a hand through his curls. Robbe would have smacked any of them away, but he leaned into Sander like a cat. “I hope you’re not letting these ones corrupt you.”

“You’re hardly a stellar role model yourself,” Robbe drawled, gently teasing.

The hand Sander placed over his heart seemed slightly less mocking, but his pout twitched towards a smirk. “You wound me, dear Robin.”

“They don’t need me immediately, do they?” Jens attempted to draw Sander’s attention back.

Sander shrugged. “I was told to fetch you so you could be properly dressed,” he announced, overly amused.

Jens groaned and slumped down in his seat as Moyo laughed again.

|*~^~*|

Ow. Cinched too tight around the waist. Again. Cutting into his throat. He let out a slight grunt and the maid handling his ties and buttons mumbled an apology, still avoiding his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Jens reassured her. He thought her name might be Lisa, but he wasn’t sure, and he refused to use it only to be wrong. “It’s not you, just these clothes. I don’t see the need for them, in any case. Do you?”

Lisa paused for a moment and considered him, actually thinking through her answer. “I think they’re nice, Sire.”

Jens blinked. She was complimenting him, he thought, but she was also disagreeing with him. Not to a large extent, of course, and the good certainly outweighed the bad, but that didn’t make it any less unusual. Most of the servants just smiled and nodded and furtively agreed with anything he said. Robbe and the boys were different, as well as some of his knights, but outside that small circle, Jens rarely garnered any honest conversation or genuine opinions. It was refreshing.

“They do look quite uncomfortable, though,” she commented, and he deflated slightly. “But at least it’s not a dress. The Princesses take a lot longer.”

This startled a pleased laugh out of Jens. “I can imagine. What with Lotte being barely twelve and Lies being so demanding.”

“I wish that Lotte was going to remain that age and never require any awkward clothing,” Lisa admitted, turning away to run her hand over Jens’s heavy cloak. She looked back at him curiously. “It’s a while yet to the meeting. Would you rather wait to wear this?”

Jens waved her off. “Sure. I’ll manage it myself, I’m sure. Thank you.”

Lisa offered a small bow, as well as the hint of a smile when Jens grinned at her. She took her leave without any further fuss and let the heavy door fall shut behind her, leaving Jens once again alone in his silent chambers. He almost wished Sander had stuck around, but Sander had been starving and Jens was the one who told him to go and find himself an early lunch. He wished he could have spent more time with the boys, as well, considering now he would simply have to wait—just in a bit more discomfort than before.

He cast a glance at himself in the mirror. At least, he thought, he was still wearing red. The padded jacket hung low on his wrists and was clasped with a belt at the waist, with the collar obscuring most of his throat. It was well fitting and of a soft material and really, it wouldn’t be so bad if he was more used to it. It just felt a little too restraining. Had he actually put on a little weight?

He tugged at the collar, skin underneath beginning to itch uncomfortably. Eventually he gave in and unbuttoned the top of the garment, taking a deep breath and finally swallowing without feeling like he was being choked. He didn’t think it looked any worse, or less professional, but then again he was never the best judge. He’d once tried to convince his mother that their family taking up a more casual style would only earn them more respect from their people, and help put them all on the same level. She had disagreed.

His door opened without any forewarning, which meant it had to be a member of his family. He turned around to see Lotte racing towards his bed, throwing herself on it amidst his protests. Her giggle floated out into the room and Jens groaned slightly, but the roll of his eyes was fond. He glanced back at the mirror and checked himself over once more, fiddling with that top button, before he let his hands drop and turned to his youngest sister.

“What are you doing in here? You know there’s a meeting soon,” he berated, only to huff in amusement when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I won’t be able to spend much time with you.”

She considered him for another moment, then simply shrugged. “I know. But I’m bored. I like whatever time I get.”

Jens softened. He knew that, in some ways, it was even harder for Lotte than it was for him. He had Robbe and the boys, and Senne and Sander, who were not only his people and his guard but his friends. Many of the people who worked in the castle were his age or thereabouts.

Lotte didn’t have the same luxury.

He went to join her on the bed, ignoring the alarms in his head warning him of creased clothes as he flopped down beside her. “Okay.” He smiled over at her and gave her a nudge. “I always have time for you.”

The girl returned his smile, but it quickly faltered. “Unlike Lies,” she muttered, picking mournfully at her fingernails.

Jens grasped her small hands in one of his to stop the motion. “She doesn’t mean to brush you off, you know. She is just busy, too.”

“Not as busy as you and you make an exception.”

He supposed this was a fair point. He also supposed sisters of twelve and twenty might not have all that much in common, but they were a special case. The three of them had almost everything in common. “Have you really tried to get her to spend time with you?”

Lotte hesitated. “Not really.”

“Would you like me to mention something to her?”

“No, that’s embarrassing.”

“It won’t be. I’ll be subtle.”

“But you’re awful at that, Jens.”

“Excuse me?” Jens sat up, affronted. “I am excellent at subtlety. It’s a big part of my job.”

Lotte seemed dubious. “How? You don’t actually do much.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean with the people,” Lotte specified, blushing slightly even as she tried and failed to hide her amusement. “You don’t get many opportunities to practice subtlety. Neither do I.”

“Clearly,” Jens quipped.

Another giggle erupted, and Jens couldn’t fight back his smile. He had his friends and his family. Lotte had always looked up to him and he had always adored her—they were as close as a brother and sister eight years apart in age could be. He and Lies were close, too, though they were also, obviously, much closer in age and more likely to match up to each other’s taunts. But Lies had always been Lotte’s favourite. The two had been thick as thieves almost since Lotte’s birth, but recently Lies had been sucked into her own position in the castle. She wasn’t subject to as much nonsense as Jens, but she had her own fair share of business and responsibilities. She had also simply grown up.

But Lotte was still growing up with them, and Jens wouldn’t just let her be left behind.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m subtle,” he said. “Lies will make an effort if she knows you miss her. You know how much she loves you.”

Lotte hugged one of his many pillows against her chest and didn’t look at him. “It’s different now, though.”

“No. You’re our sister and that will never change. Okay?”

Before Lotte could respond, a harsh rap on the door interrupted their moment. Jens closed his eyes briefly, already guessing who it was. The door swinging up with no further warning confirmed his assumption.

“Well, now you’re just being difficult,” Sander said, exasperated. “I did not drag you back here early so you could get some more sleep.”

Jens groaned and tugged the pillow out of Lotte’s grasp to cover his own face with it.

Lotte giggled, and Sander finally took notice of her. His lips instantly split in a smile, and he took a deep bow, which only made Lotte’s laughter louder. “Pardon me, Princess. I hope you know I never intended to lay on you the same disgrace as your brother.”

“Of course not,” Lotte said, ever at ease as she bounded over Jens and towards Sander, letting him place the usual kiss on her hand. “You’re only doing your job right, and I am sure he deserves it.”

“I thought,” Jens interrupted loudly, “that we were supposed to stick together. I am only here because of you in the first place, but I see you’re not yet old enough to know better than to fall for his charm.”

Lotte stuck her tongue out at him, which might have proved his point. “You are just jealous Sander is better at it than you. Enjoy your meeting.” She gave him a wave and a smile before slipping away, and Jens watched after her, hoping above everything that she wouldn’t get old enough too quickly.

Sander also smiled fondly after her, but grew stern once he returned to Jens’s gaze. He placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “Your mother is going to have me in the stocks one of these days, and then I will teach you how that works in our next training session.”

Jens snorted. “I would like to see you try.”

|*~^~*|

He hated sitting in for Court. It was less about the ‘criminals’ and more about the royals, the endless lines of knights and Lords and servants, eager to witness another fool. He didn’t care much for fools, but he cared even less to laugh at them. It soothed him only slightly that Sander and Senne were visible near the front of the room.

He cared least for his formal attire. He was overheating in his jacket, once again delicately buttoned up to the throat, the collar digging into his skin. He’d tried leaving the top hanging open, and it had hardly taken a second for his mother to give him a sharp glance, nodding to a maid that had hastily run to button it back up. He was left to sit and suffocate.

His mother was seated next to him, as regal as ever in her throne. Her fitted dress was a deep burgundy, multiple shades darker than her son’s jacket, and her hair was pinned up neatly with her crown placed carefully atop it. She hadn’t paid attention to Jens, bar the instance with the clothing ‘mishap’. Instead she was talking quietly to Senne’s father, who also happened to be the head knight, or Commander. Jens didn’t know him well, and the man never seemed to give him much thought. Which was fair, he supposed, as he was obviously of less importance, and the position and size—a little behind and a lot smaller—of his own throne in comparison to his mother’s was a good reminder. This meant he was left alone as they waited for whatever poor soul was being charged to make their way to the throne.

For some reason, he wasn’t expecting the poor soul to be a boy roughly his age with scruffy hair and striking blue eyes set in a delicate face.

Jens straightened subtly in his chair, placed to the right side of his mother’s throne, and met the boy’s eyes for half a second.

His mother ordered a sharp, “Kneel.”

Before the boy could comply, one of the guards that had escorted him set a heavy hand on his shoulder and forced him down, making him land on the stone floor in a manner that left Jens’s own knees aching in sympathy. The boy simply caught his breath and held his chin high, looking straight at them and through, his jaw clenched.

Jens drummed his fingers on his knee in interest.

The same guard gave the boy’s head a forceful shove. Jens thought he might have been one of the Berg children, though of the four brothers there were in that family, he couldn’t distinguish this one. He could see, however, that the guard must have been twice the boy’s size in bulk. “Speak your name to the Court.”

The boy took a breath as some of his masqueraded confidence slipped. “Lucas. Lucas van der Heijden.”

Jens licked his lips, cataloguing the sound of his voice, the way his mouth parted for an instant before the actual sound escaped. The name rumbled deeply around the room and seeped into the walls, encased in the brick in case it would otherwise be lost.

Jens’s job was to watch, to note, and to only give judgement if asked. It often didn’t take him long to form conclusions. His conclusion of Lucas van der Heijden was that he seemed, at once, nothing and everything like a criminal.

He was young, and clean cut, though his clothes were a tad too tight and an inch too short on his ankles, fraying at the hems. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, a familiar sandy mixture that Jens had seen on all hostages of the castle cells. It was impossible to tell how long he had been kept in them—Jens was rarely offered such information. There was an innocence to his youth but a confidence in his posture. His eyes held a pleading light and a resolute film. Whatever his crime in regards to the crown, he held a loyalty to someone.

“State his crimes,” the Queen requested. She had abandoned any attention towards the Commander, though he remained by her side. She was looking at the boy with a cool intent that surprised Jens.

The opposite guard, whom Jens failed to recall a name for, stared straight ahead as he spoke up. “Thievery and dishonor to the Court, Your Majesty.”

Jens could barely hold back a snort. He relaxed slightly. There was rarely a severe punishment for a loaf of bread. The scene before him suddenly made more sense.

His mother’s tone, however, was unusually steely. “Thievery of what?”

“Sir Viktor’s sword, Your Majesty.”

Jens blinked. A rumble of interest spread through the Court. That was something of a surprise. Jens was suddenly paying more attention.

Lucas’s jaw tightened and he gave a minuscule shake of his head, so much so that Jens was sure he was the only one to notice.

The Queen didn’t seem quite as intrigued, which meant she had already known. “And what, boy, do you want with a sword?”

“I didn’t steal it.” Lucas spoke through gritted teeth, but his gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve never even seen the sword before.”

“It was found under his bed, Your Majesty, free of its sheath. Sir Viktor had been missing it for a full day before organising a search.”

Jens barely resisted rolling his eyes. If Viktor had been missing it that long, he was almost in need of a punishment himself. He’d known Viktor Deruwe, Senne’s brother, for only over a year, becoming acquainted with him long after he’d already met Senne. Senne’s loyalty and honour, that Jens had become easily familiar with during the man’s service in his personal guard, did not seem to emanate as clearly from his brother. Jens had received only a few pleasures of his presence, and pinned his discomfort down to this unfamiliarity. As he watched Lucas’s expression tighten further, however, there was something that didn’t sit quite right with him.

The feeling only strengthened as the Queen raised her head and stared Lucas down. “You’d do best to not add dishonesty to your list, Mr van der Heijden. The proof sits against you. If you claim not to have stolen it, how do you suppose it ended up with you?”

Lucas swallowed. For a tiny second, his gaze flitted over to the crowd on his left. Jens followed his gaze and found nothing that stood out, other than his own friends. Senne was watching Lucas intently, and with mild surprise, though he did not appear angered on his brother’s behalf. Sander was flicking cautious glances at him anyway.

“I didn’t steal anything,” Lucas repeated. “I’m an artist. I have no reason for a sword.”

“And yet,” the Queen said lightly, “there was one so close to you. Are you able to explain that?”

Jens came to the realisation too late, after noticing the hard lines of his mother’s frown and the steel underlining the easiness of her voice. This wasn’t a trial—this was merely the sentencing.

“Someone else must have placed it there,” Lucas said, just as light, with just as much steel underneath.

“I’m sorry, Mr van der Heijden, truly, but the evidence against you is not something I can simply dismiss as a wrong guess. Do you have proof, of anyone else who may have had access to your quarters? Even so much as a theory.”

“It’s not hard,” Lucas laughed slightly, “to access my quarters. From the way your guards stormed my home yesterday without so much as a knock as a notice, that seems fairly clear.”

Jens raised his brows as the Queen lowered hers. “You’d do well not to speak out of turn, boy. Evidently, my guards had every right to rip your home to shreds if they so pleased.”

Jens looked at her in surprise. He knew his mother held a firm and stern rule, but she had never shown herself to be cruel. Jens would never have expected her to so openly disregard the rights and welfare of her people. He supposed Lucas was good at pushing buttons, and he’d somehow managed to hit a number of her’s throughout their short interaction. Jens glanced over Lucas again, his curls scattered and shoulders straight, and felt a stab of worry in his stomach.

Help yourself, Jens silently urged. Try to win her over. Don’t make it worse.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Lucas seemed to force the words out, dragging them from himself as if he was being made to pull his own teeth. “My mother—I take care of her. I worried that she would have been harmed in the fray.”

Jens watched his own mother soften slightly before regaining her resolve. “While that’s admirable of you, it doesn’t truly explain your resistance. Your lies, Mr van der Heijden, may only lead to further searches of your home in an attempt to confirm either your guilt or your innocence. Would you not, in that case, rather save your mother the trouble?”

Jens swiveled his gaze back to Lucas, watching the low blow hit, cataloguing the way the boy’s own resolve crumbled.

Then he straightened, undeterred by the hand still tightly clasped on his shoulder. “My mother has no involvement, because neither do I. I’m not lying. I stole nothing.”

The Queen regarded him for another long moment, as did Jens. Then she released a heavy sigh. “I was hoping that your cooperation would provide an option for leniency. A true explanation may have lightened your sentence, but the proof against you is overwhelming.”

Jens’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t quite sure he agreed, but he was only meant to give his opinion if he was asked. He didn’t think his mother much cared what he thought, most times, but especially now.

“I cannot believe that you are free of intent to threaten the crown, due to the unusual action of your crime. I fear I have no choice.” She stood from her throne and stepped down from the dais, looming over Lucas in her heavy red robes and shimmering crown. “Lucas van der Heijden, for the charges of thievery and dishonor to the throne, I find you guilty and sentence you to death.”

The murmur this time was of a much more extensive volume, but it wasn’t quite enough to drown out Jens’s incredulous burst of laughter.

All eyes turned to him, and he felt his shoulders stiffen. Lucas’s gaze was most prominent, evidently confused, with eyes wide and disbelieving. His mother’s were equally surprised, though underlaid with anger.

Definitely not supposed to be voicing his opinion today, then.

Jens did his best to ignore his discomfort under the attention and keep a princely smile on his face. “Since when do we sentence death without proof? Now you wish it upon one of your younger subjects for the kidnapping of a sword that wasn’t even put to use?”

The murmur that he’d silenced picked up again, and his mother raised an unimpressed brow at him. “The proof has been presented to you as it has been presented to me. Are you aware of evidence we are not?”

“I’m aware that there is a possibility, however slim, that he is telling the truth. Even if he had stolen it and intended to put it to use, the sword has been retrieved. He presents no real immediate threat. If anything, I believe he would have committed the crime as a scared boy with family he wishes to protect. Surely that is something any of us can understand. He may be deserving of punishment, yes, but death?”

The room had fallen into utter silence. Jens didn’t dare look at any of the Court members, but he chanced a glance at Lucas. The other boy was staring back at him, with all surprise now wiped from his face. He wore a carefully constructed blank expression, that didn’t break as Jens looked back at him.

Jens didn’t know why he felt such a strong urge to save him. But now that he’d started, he couldn’t bring his own argument to an end.

“So what else do you suggest?” His mother asked this at length, unwillingly.

He shouldn’t have spoken out. It wasn’t his place. It wasn’t good for her, he knew, to have her rule questioned in public by her own son. But he’d argued without thinking, looking at Lucas and feeling an inexplicable need to stand up for him. To protect.

“It’s his loyalty in question, is it not?” Jens raised a brow and waited for her nod. “So let him prove it. I’m sure someone youthful and strong could have a place serving the Court.”

The murmur picked up again. Jens resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he skipped over all the incredulous looks to find his friends, and was assured to have Sander and Senne watching on with surprise but approval. Sander cocked a brow at him, as if impressed, while Senne merely nodded his encouragement.

His mother stared at him. “Your suggestion is to allow him a position in the castle?”

“He couldn’t be placed under more watch,” Jens said simply. “I would rather test someone’s loyalty and perhaps gain a better bond than let a life go to waste.”

This murmur sounded somewhat agreeable, though it was silenced the second the Queen raised her hand. “There are no positions in the Court up for offer, and I cannot possibly gift a thief the sword he’d stolen.”

Jens didn’t even pause to think. “I don’t have a personal servant.”

There was, surprisingly, no murmur. The room was eerily quiet as Jens and his mother stared each other down and Lucas flitted his gaze between them.

It was not a lie, and was perhaps even the reason he had been doing this. He was tired of fussy maids lacing his shirts and buttoning his coats and buckling his cuffs. His sisters both had maid-servants, while Jens was left with an array of strangers carrying out various duties, never even able to become familiar with faces as they avoided contact and conversation at all costs. He did his best to be amicable with the castle staff, to form relationships, to form bonds. But aside from the few close friends he saw only on occasion (and even they were sons of various Lords in various agreements with his mother), and a few chosen guards, Jens spent most of his time alone.

He wouldn’t have minded someone like Lucas by his side. Someone his age, who wasn’t afraid to look him in the eye.

“You wish to risk letting a criminal become your personal servant? You would trust him to be so close to you?”

Jens let his mother stare disapprovingly at him before shifting his gaze to Lucas. They considered each other, concrete met with intrigue, before Jens gave a simple shrug. “I would.” He saw Lucas shake his head slightly in disbelief, and only became more sure. He turned back to his mother and kept his expression and tone firm. “It’s my risk to take, and I believe there isn’t much risk to it. If I am wrong, then I should get what’s coming to me.”

A few of the guards gave a quiet titter in acceptance, and he watched as his mother looked at a spot in the crowd for a lengthy moment.

Then she was nodding her acceptance.

She looked down upon Lucas. “Very well. You will have a guard assigned to you that will accompany you on any outings, alone or with the Prince. While you are in his service, there will be guards stationed at his door and extra security provided throughout the castle. It is only as a sign of trust towards my son that you are being given leniency. You should be grateful to him that you are leaving here with your life.” She looked to the guard on his left, the one that had spoken calmly to them without laying a finger on Lucas. “Take him and remain with him until the new measures I eventually decide upon are fully put in place.” She then turned to the room at large and raised her voice to address them all. “You are dismissed.”

Lucas listened to her silently, and remained wordless as Berg yanked him to his feet. Jens watched on until his mother spoke up again.

“Jens, you are to accompany him now. If he is not to be trusted from the beginning then he is not to be trusted without his apparent savior. You are also dismissed,” she said. “Though you will be meeting me again later to discuss this decision further.”

Jens bit back a sigh and rose to his feet. The intrigue spiraling up in him was quickly turning to elation. He felt that he had been entirely right to speak up and to continue to stand his ground, and it was a thrilling realisation that he could. It had even been easy, to earn the support of his mother and the Court, in what at first seemed to be an unshakable stance.

As he made his way down the dais and met Lucas’s stony gaze, however, he considered that it may not be as simple as he thought.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #prince!jens au #vds royalty au #my fics

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

Text

happy together (five x reader)

requested by : @asphodelshare - omg would u be willing to do a five x reader harry potter au 🥺 like a collection of slytherin!five and ravenclaw!reader cute moments/little scenarios and everyone even the professors can’t deny their chemistry (dumbledore would be a shipper for sure) and just them being known as the badass, real smart, match made in wizard heaven couple 😫❤️

a/n : thank you so much this was so fun to do!! little bit of ooc five but obviously hes gonna be different in a different universe i think anyway. i loved this idea so much cus personally im a ravenclaw so it felt PERFECT but anyway thank u sm for this i hope u enjoy <33333

Everything started on the train. The train to Hogwarts, that is. You said a tender goodbye to your parents before stepping on to the train. You were so focused on waving goodbye to them that you had forgotten all about actually getting a seat, and they were filling up fast. Eventually, you got to this carriage that had only two other people in it, a boy and a girl. and you hesitantly slid the door open.

You cleared your throat. “Do you guys mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

“Of course not.” The girl flashed you a friendly smile and you hummed happily in response, taking your seat beside the window, sat next to the girl. Considering she had actually answered you; you felt a lot more comfortable sitting beside her than the boy, who merely shrugged one of his shoulders when you had asked.

His hair was carefully swiped over and looked as though it was made of silk. When she caught a glimpse of his eyes, they were a piercing blue, the kind that made you squirm under the stare of them. His face was chiseled kindly and he radiated with confidence. It seemed like he put no effort at all into his appearance, but at the same time, it seemed that he put every single effort he had into it. His demeanor seemed rather uppity, like he was too good to even respond to someone who had asked a simple question.

As you studied him, you watched his brows furrow in confusion and you lightly leaned over to read what he was writing down on the piece of paper in front of him.

“Three hundred and sixty-nine, point eight. (369.8)” You answered to the question he didn’t ask. He quickly snapped his head up to look at you and you sat back in your seat, offering him a small smile.

“What?” He spat, his eyes narrowing as he looked over you. You swallowed, moving uncomfortably in your space.

“I—I said, three hundred and sixty-nine point eight. (369.8). That’s the answer, isn’t it?” To your equation.”

His eyes widened in shock as they scanned back over the page he had scribbled over, biting the inside of his lip as you pulled out a book, reading it though you could feel his curious gaze on you.

Then, there was the sorting ceremony. You were sorted into Ravenclaw, which you knew you was your house anyway. The boy, whose name seemed to be Five, was sorted into Slytherin, and his eyes couldn’t seem to leave you as you tucked into your food.

The start of the year seemed to go on pretty similarly, Five continued to stare at you from afar or even from beside you in some lessons.

One day, you were feeling particularly rubbish. Your head resonated with pain and the bags under your eyes could not be mistaken for anything other than complete exhaustion. When you sat beside Five for your transfiguration lesson, you had entirely expected him to make some snarky comment, or snicker at the rough sight of you, but instead he simply looked at you, offering a small smile, much like the one you had given him on the train on the first day.

“Are you alright?” He whispered.

You smiled at that, nodding slightly, applying pressure to the centre of your forehead. “Yep. I’m okay.”

“You sure? I could try a spell to fix your headache if you want.” A cheeky smirk spread across his face and you giggled quietly.

“Hm, perhaps it would feel more pleasant than—”

“Mr Hargreeves, Miss L/N. Stop talking.” The teacher glared at the two of you from the front, and the entire class turned to stare at the two of you. A pink blush dusted over your cheeks and you swallowed.

“Sorry, Professor.” The two of you said in sync, keeping your heads down to get on with your work.

Just from that tiny interaction, you were pretty much inseparable from that moment on. The two of you had made a plan of the school, so that whenever you had lessons apart, you would pass each other in the corridors. You would make sure that you sat back to back in the Great Hall, so you could chat at every available opportunity. He would walk past you in potions and steal your ingredients. You would stay late in the library with each other, doing your homework and just talking. Quite quickly, the two of you were the top of every class you had, constantly battling for the very top spot.

Then there was Christmas. You had planned to go home, but something came up and you simply just couldn’t get home. Your parents were devastated, as were you. But at least you got to spend it with your best friend. Five hadn’t gone home. He hadn’t said much about why and you were hesitant to ask, but you were still glad that you weren’t alone for Christmas.

You skipped into the Great Hall, where he was sat reading a book. When he heard footsteps he looked up, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Y/N! I thought you were going home, what happened?”

“Something came up, and I couldn’t get home.” You shrugged and he frowned, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m sorry. I know how excited you were.”

“It’s alright. At least I’m not alone.” You flashed him a grin and he chuckled, returning your smile and you took a seat opposite him. “Why aren’t you going home, anyway?”

“Oh, I, uh… I don’t exactly have the best relationship with my family.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Y/N. It’s okay.” He laughed and you smiled. Your gaze turned downwards onto the table, where your fingers were picking regrettably at the skin around your nails. Five’s brows furrowed together, watching you curiously. “Are you alright?”

“I, uh… I got you something. For Christmas.” His widened slightly, as if he had never received a gift before. You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of a tear in his eye, but he quickly blinked it away, a confused look on his face.

“Why?” His brows knit together in genuine confusion and you didn’t quite know how to respond.

“B—Because I wanted to.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” He scoffed at your words and you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why would—”

“Five.” Your stern face made his collapse and he sighed, his eyes turning soft.

“I’ve never been given a gift before. And I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t even think about it.” He admitted and your heart simply shattered for him.

“Five, I got you a gift because I wanted to give you one. You’re my best friend. I didn’t get you a gift because I wanted one in return.” You smiled and the edge of his lip turned up slightly. He faked a yawn, grabbing his books and standing.

“I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna get to bed. Goodnight.”

Christmas morning, you made your way to the Slytherin common room, waiting outside like you said you would for Five. After a while of waiting, you sighed. You knew he wasn’t coming. Luckily, you had made chums with a fair few people in Slytherin house, and they gladly let you inside. A frown fell over your face when you saw Five sat by himself, staring into the roaring fire in the center of the common room.

“Five?” You said softly, and his head turned to you. You made your way over to him, sitting beside him. “If you don’t want it, I won’t give it to you. If it’s too weird.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to do, what I’m supposed to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” You smiled. “Tell you what, I’ll give it to you, you can put it n your bed now, until later. You don’t have to open it in front of anyone else. Okay?” He nodded and you smiled. Handing him the parcel that you had neatly wrapped.

That night, Five stared at the present lingering on the edge of his bed with hesitance. His arm kept stretching out to then and then pulling itself back in again, but eventually he ripped off the paper, feeling awful that you had probably spent so long making it look nice, but he wasn’t too bothered. What lay inside the paper, however, had Five bubbling with excitement. There was a notebook, a book and a small envelope. The book was all about time travel, something Five had shown a frequent interest in. The notebook was completely blank, save from a little doodle that you had drawn in on the back of the cover. It was a doodle of the two of you, of him not being able to stop reading the book you bought him and you getting angry that he wouldn’t listen to you. He opened the envelope. Its contents contained a little letter you had wrote, explaining how grateful and happy you were being his best friend and taped to the back of the letter was a small polaroid photograph of both of you, that took not too long ago at all.

Five had not noticed the stray tears of appreciation falling down his face until one landed on the note he was holding, and he gasped, swiping his tears and blowing on the paper to dry it out. He didn’t know why, but he felt comfortable being vulnerable around you. He felt comfortable showing his emotions, he had felt it from the very first time you had met. Something in his heart told him you were a good person and you wouldn’t leave him.

The next three years carried on the very same but what was different in your fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament. You planned on asking Five to the Yule Ball, or rather you hoped he would ask you, but when he did nothing of the sort, you decided to start dropping hints yourself.

“I got my dress for the Ball. Have you got your dress robes yet?”

“Y/N, I’m not going to the stupid ball!” He snapped, completely unnecessarily rudely. You sighed, clearing your books off of the desk before clutching them to your chest, walking back to your common room without a word. It was at that moment when a boy from your own house decided to ask you to the ball, and you gladly agreed, your heart burning with excitement that you would actually get to go. You would much rather go with Five though. Your heart fluttered when you imagined the two of you dressed up, holding hands while you danced together. Years of close friendship had led to you developing deep feelings for him. But regardless of how you felt about him, you were going to the ball, whether he was going to take you or not.

The night finally arrived, and you stood at the top of the stairs before the entrance to the Great Hall. You looked incredible. Five’s eyes landed on you in no time at all, an incredulous look slapped across his face. His jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes scanning every inch of you, his heart thumping vigorously. His face fell when he watched you call out to your date.

“Sorry, Y/N. I said I’d actually go with Allison.” Your date wandered off, hand in hand with another girl and you frowned, tears welling your eyes. Storming away, you swiped angrily at the tears falling from your eyes. All you wanted was a simple dance and a nice evening. Your head fell into your hands as you sat on the steps, hot tears steaming from your eyes. A soft voice called out from behind you and you quickly wiped away the tears on your face, plastering a smile in your face as you turned around.

“Five! I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, blinking away the new tears that formed in your eyes, glancing over his frame covered in his dress robes. “You look nice.”

“Y/N, I saw. Are you okay?” A deep sigh left your lips at Five’s words, and he came to sit beside you.

“Yep. I’m perfectly fine. Y’know, I didn’t even wanna go to the dance in the first place.”

“You don’t? Oh, well that’s too bad… I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go with me.” He gently took your hand in both of his, intertwining your fingers and your eyes lit up, receiving a smile from Five.

“Are you serious? I—I thought you didn’t want to—”

“I changed my mind.” He cleared his throat after a while, speaking in a whisper. “You look beautiful.”

Your eyes locked with his as you tilted your head up to his, gently pressing your forehead against his. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips and slowly, his face was drawn closer to yours, the temptation and want too huge for him to bear. When his lips found yours, the two of you were in a complete heaven, your lips moving together so generously, at a gentle but steady pace. The hands came up to hold your cheeks, holding your face close to his, both of your hearts racing at a lightening speed while the world around you turned to slow motion.

When the two of you finally announced to your friends that you were dating, you were met with a sea of ‘finally’s and ‘it’s about time’s. All you would do is chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to Five’s cheek and he smiled. You were happy. Five was happy. You were happy together.

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Spellbinding (Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: A special anniversary of (Y/N) and Loki’s is fast approaching and after struggling to find her boyfriend the perfect gift, (Y/N) finally decides to do something life-changing for their special evening.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: This chapter has so much fluff, so I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen February 9th, 2016 Brooklyn, New York City (Previous Chapter)

Before her life as an Avenger, (Y/N) had never cared much for shopping. All of the money she earned as a trainee librarian was budgeted out for rent, bills and groceries and if there was somehow money left over after all of that, it all went to purchasing secondhand books for her growing collection. She simply didn’t have the luxury to go shopping for things she knew she didn’t need, but that all changed when she joined the Avengers. Since she was earning more money and not paying any bills, she decided to divide her salary into three sections; one section went into a savings account, the second went towards various organizations and charities, and the third she kept to spend however she liked. Independent shops and small businesses were her favorite places to visit, and it was at one such shop that (Y/N) decided to purchase her anniversary gift for Loki; the couple had decided to celebrate the anniversary of when they first met instead of when they’d finally become a couple, much to the bewilderment of their teammates.

“You know, doll, I’m still a little confused as to why you brought me along and not one of the others.” Bucky remarked, glancing around the cozy boutique with a raised brow. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you or anything, but…well, the Winter Soldier and shopping are two things that don’t really go together.”

(Y/N) gave him a good-natured shrug and began browsing. “Bucky, I asked you to come with me because you’re an incredibly perceptive person; you tend to see things that others might miss, and you have an uncanny ability to read people. And if I’m going to find the perfect anniversary gift for Loki before the 20th, then you’re one of the best to ask for a little help.”

“And you brought Tic-Tac along because…?”

They both glanced over at Scott, who was currently reading the dust-jacket of a magic trick how-to book across the boutique. “He wanted to hang out with us before flying back to San Francisco tomorrow.” Bucky shot her a look. “What?”

“Don’t you think Lang’s a little bit…annoying?”

“Not any more annoying than the rest of my teammates.” She playfully retorted and when he scoffed, she elaborated. “Apparently, you forgot the time when you and Clint scared the hell out of me by dropping down from the ceiling vent in my suite. That was my fourth day as an Avenger, if I remember correctly.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’ve got a point there, but-”

“Hey, check out this book, guys!” Scott hurried over to them with a wide grin on his face. “Slight-of-hand magic tricks! I’ve always wanted to learn how to do that; I mean, it’s not real magic like your Light Elf kind, (Y/N), but I-” He winced and lowered his voice to a stage-whisper. “Sorry, that was kinda loud! You guys should really check this stuff out, though, c’mon!”

(Y/N) met the super soldier’s ‘I-told-you-so’ expression and gave her head a small shake before adjusting her glasses and following after Scott. “I swear, it’s like I’m surrounded by children…”

The trio spent the afternoon scouring shop after shop for the perfect anniversary gift but nothing stood out to them. Sensing her growing desperation, Bucky suggested they take a break at the nearest coffee shop and brainstorm a new plan.

“How is this so difficult?” (Y/N) groaned in frustration, resting her head in her hands as she stared dejectedly at her half-empty cup of hot chocolate. “I know Loki better than anyone else on the planet. Shouldn’t that make it easier for me to get him a gift?”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Bucky and Scott exchange matching looks of apprehension before Bucky replied, “Well…do you think that maybe you’re overthinking all this?” She glanced up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “From what I saw, you didn’t have any problems getting Loki a Christmas present. It was a book, right?”

“A first edition of Gods and Myths of Northern Europe; he’d always joked about all the silly ways Midgardians had interpreted his life, so I thought it would make a fun gift for his first real Christmas. But I can’t get him another book.”

Scott frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I would just be repeating myself, or making myself look like I’m not putting any effort into it.” (Y/N) sighed to herself. “All I want to do is show Loki how much I care about him and I feel like…I feel like nothing I do can ever properly convey that.”

All three of them sat in silence for several long moments until Scott suddenly spoke up. “You’ve gotta be kidding me, (Y/N). You show Loki how much you love him every single day!” Bucky looked over at Scott in surprise while (Y/N) shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m serious! You look at him like he’s the only guy in the world because in your eyes, he is. You know how many people would kill to have someone look at them that way? You’re the reason why a war criminal was able to turn his entire life around and become an Avenger; your love for him is what gave him the strength to believe that he could be a better man. Believe me, Loki knows exactly how much you love him; if you’re still dead-set on doing something special for your anniversary, though, a simple gesture could do a lot more than a superficial gift.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “I didn’t know you were a goddamn poet, Lang.”

“I’m not a poet, I’m just a guy who spent a while in prison thinking about cheesy stuff like that.” Scott shrugged good-naturedly before turning back to (Y/N). “But you know what I’m trying to say, right?”

(Y/N) nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I think I do, Scott. C’mon, you two, I know exactly where we’ve got to go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, (Y/N) found herself standing in the tower’s elevator as it journeyed to the top floor, clutching Loki’s wrapped present in one hand as the other nervously fiddled with the skirt of her lilac cocktail dress. She’d picked out his gift with such confidence but when it came down to actually giving it to him…? Well, she might’ve had a small drink of liquid courage to calm her jittery nerves as she was getting ready for their date. Stop overthinking it, (Y/N) chided herself, taking a deep breath just as the elevator stopped and its metal doors slid open. There, with his back facing her, stood Loki; he was dressed in a tailored black suit, and his shaggy black locks were perfectly styled. When he turned around and smiled at her, (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat and she was instantly reminded of the fateful day in the library when they’d first met.

“You look radiant, darling.” Loki took her hand as she stepped out of the elevator and pressed a kiss onto her knuckles before threading his fingers through hers. “I hope you’ve brought your appetite with you.”

“Well, I was training with Thor most of the day and he swiped my only protein bar, so…” Sharing a smile, they walked through the doorway of the ballroom and halted at the top of the stairs as (Y/N) gasped. “Oh, it looks beautiful, Loki!”

The ballroom was dimly lit, illumination primarily coming from the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and the candelabra resting on the small table in the middle of the room. The table was gorgeously set for two, with a silver dome covering each plate and an arrangement of lilacs near its center.

“I simply wanted our first anniversary to be both special and unique.” Loki shrugged noncommittally as they made their way down the marble steps, but her praise had caused his pale cheeks to redden slightly; he helped her into her chair before reaching for the silver dome’s handle and grinning. “And now, your favorite meal in all the Nine Realms…” Loki removed the dome with a flourish to reveal a plate laden with a cheeseburger and French fries and a large chocolate milkshake. “A charbroiled hamburger with sharp cheddar cheese and fresh-cut lettuce, a side of air-fried French fries and a homemade chocolate milkshake.”

(Y/N) beamed as he sat down across from her and removed the dome off his own plate. “Our first date at the diner. I seem to recall you thinking that the restaurant was overly-cheesy.”

He flashed her a lopsided grin. “And I still think that, of course, but I cannot deny that the cuisine and the company more than made up for it.”

The meal was more than delicious, and (Y/N) could honestly say that it was the best cheeseburger she’d ever had. As they ate, they talked about some of the novels they’d both recently read; their numerous Avenger duties sometimes meant that they couldn’t talk to one another as often as they wanted to, so it was nice that they were able to spend a quiet evening alone for a change. After they finished eating, (Y/N) and Loki moved to stand by the massive windows and watched the snow fall over the twinkling city skyline; it took a while, but she finally summoned her courage and suggested that they exchange presents.

“Oh Loki,” (Y/N) breathed, her gaze transfixed on the beautiful music box in her hands and the two dancing figures twirling in time to the sweet melody; the two figures were her and Loki, and the music was what was playing when they danced together for the first time at Tony’s charity ball. She looked up at him once the tinkling music faded away and beamed. “It’s beautiful!”

“You like it?” He had a hesitant sort of look on his face. “I wasn’t sure you would…”

Her smile widened. “I love it, sweetheart!” After she pressed a brief kiss to his lips, she carefully set the music box down on the table and grabbed her present to him, walking back to her boyfriend and offering the package to him with slightly-quaking fingers. “Okay, your turn.”

Butterflies erupted in (Y/N)’s stomach as she watched her boyfriend carefully unwrap his gift. Her hands suddenly became clammy and her mouth went dry, and it was if time had slowed down as Loki lifted the lid of the box to reveal a shiny gold ring. He looked back up at her, his expression blank and unreadable, just as she took a shaky deep breath and spoke.

“Before we met, I had a fairly good idea of how my life would go; I’d become a full-time librarian, save up enough money so I could go see the world and maybe even meet someone special, but that didn’t matter to me as much as being able to help others. And then I met you, Loki. You understood me, my thoughts and my passions, better than anyone else in the world; you helped me open my eyes to a whole unknown part of myself and gave me the strength I needed to embrace it. I’m not as skilled at expressing my love as you are, sweetheart, but then I realized that there was no better way of showing how much I love you than…” She gently took the box from his un-moving hands and held the ring as she tearily smiled up at him. “Loki Odinson, I love you with all my heart and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. Will you marry me?”

(Y/N)’s heart was hammering in her chest as she stared into his emerald-green eyes, so much so that she was afraid he’d be able to hear it. But her fears melted away the moment Loki’s face broke out into the most dazzling smile she’d ever seen; he reached for her free hand and held it firmly between his own as he choked out, “Yes. Yes, I will!”

Half-laughing and half-crying, (Y/N) surged forward and captured his lips with a passion-filled kiss that was eagerly reciprocated. Loki let go of her hand in order to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her flush against him, tightening his hold when (Y/N) ran a hand through his dark locks. After several blissful moments, she pulled away as he continued pressing kisses along her jawline. “I-I know that it’s unconventional for a woman to propose to a man, even here on Midgard, so I’m sorry if-”

“Sorry?” Loki gave her cheek a final kiss before leaning back just far enough to see her whole face, his eyes filled with unabashed adoration. “(Y/N), you shouldn’t have to apologize for such a beautiful gesture and besides, our relationship is the very definition of ‘unconventional,’ wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose you’re right about that.” She giggled before grabbing his left hand and holding it up. “May I?” Once he gave her a nod, she slipped the ring onto the third finger of his hand and smiled. “It fits! That saves us a trip back to the shop for resizing.”

“It’s stunning, darling. May I give you your ring now?”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “My ring?”

It was Loki’s turn to be nervous; his fingers intertwined with hers and he gave her a sheepish smile before continuing. “Yes, well, I…I asked for one of my mother’s rings when we visited Asgard. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to propose, but…well, it would seem that you beat me to it, my clever love.” He removed his other hand from around her waist and held it palm-up before her; the air above it shimmered with green magic before a velvet ring box materialized. It was already open, revealing a glittering ring set in silver; its center stone looked like a diamond to her and the metal surrounding it was formed into delicate petal shapes, filled with a blend of small diamonds and what she guessed were peridots and purple sapphires. “I can ask my mother for another if you’re not fond of this one, or we can consult a jeweler if you’d prefer something more traditional…”

“It’s perfect, Loki, absolutely perfect.” Sharing a teary smile, (Y/N) held out her hand and allowed Loki to slip the ring onto her finger; she flexed the fingers of her left hand, unused to having something that weighty on her finger, but her smile widened as she admired just how right it looked. Looking up, she cupped his cheek and traced along his cheekbone with her thumb. “I can’t believe I’ll get to be your wife someday.”

“And I can’t believe that I’ll have the honor of being your husband.” Loki ducked his head and captured her lips in another heated kiss; without any warning, he bent down and wrapped his arms around her upper thighs, hoisting her up so that he could angle his face upwards instead of craning his neck down. (Y/N) giggled in surprise and threw her arms around his neck as he grinned into their kiss, losing herself to their passion. When they were forced to separate for air, Loki looked up at her with absolute adoration in his emerald-green eyes. “Darling, would you honor your betrothed with a dance?” (Y/N) nodded, her fingers carding through his mussed hair while he called out, “J.A.R.V.I.S., play Sergeant Barnes’ music playlist, please.”

“Of course, Prince Loki.”

(Y/N)’s brow rose in surprise when she recognized the beginning of Jo Stafford’s ‘You Belong To Me’ as it began playing throughout the ballroom, and Loki’s smile widened. “In preparation for this evening, I asked the others for music recommendations and Barnes was gracious enough to let us use his playlist.”

“Your definition of dancing seems to conflict a little with mine, sweetheart,” She quipped as Loki began slowly swaying them in a tight circle. “You’re not going to put me down, are you?”

Holding her up in one arm with ease, Loki took her hand and intertwined their fingers before resting them against his chest and gently shaking his head. “Never, my darling.”

(Y/N) smiled at that, her eyes drifting closed while she rested her forehead against Loki’s; their noses rubbed up against one another and as they continued their slow rotation, his lips ghosted over the skin of her cheek and she began to wonder if a person could actually die of happiness.

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Later that night, (Y/N) lounged on Loki’s bed and admired her engagement ring while her fiancé showered, her mind already filled with wedding plans. I’ll bet my entire book collection that Tony’ll try convincing us to let him officiate, (Y/N) thought with a giggle, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling of Loki’s bedroom as she rested her hands on her pajama-clad stomach and let out a content sigh. But while she laid there, her overwhelming happiness was soon replaced with a growing sense of dread as familiar words began to replay in her mind:

“It’s also about controlling your emotions and keeping them in check. Strong ones, like anger or passion, can sometimes be a trigger…”

“Layeia and her forbidden Midgardian lover reigned with an iron fist, executing any who opposed their rule, and gained a small following who worshiped her evil magic…”

“You and your mother are more alike than you realize. The fiery tempers, the forbidden lovers and most importantly, the ambition…”

Along with that, flashes of her ever-present nightmares and the brief snippets of King Tarian’s book crossed her mind, forcing her to repress her horrified gasp. My love for Loki could make me lose control of my magic and become what my mother was, (Y/N) thought as fear began to blossom in the pit of her stomach. But she and Loki had been in love for several months without any sort of problem…and that’s when she remembered all the incidents. Her magical abilities had been triggered by her desire to protect him from a Hydra agent in the library. In an attempt to defend his honor, she’d even attacked Tony and in her rage, nearly destroyed an entire floor of the tower. And while she’d tried reasoning that it had only been inside her head, she’d even physically shocked Loki with her magic back on Asgard and it had been powerful enough for the Frost Giant to feel its stinging pain.

The first thing in the morning I’m going down to the lab to speak with Doctor Cho, she thought to herself as she heard the shower head turn off in the bathroom, and I swear on my Aunt Evelyn that I won’t become the very same evil that my mother was.

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A/N: Ahhhh they’re engaged!! If anyone was wondering, I took inspiration for that dancing scene from one of Tom Hiddleston’s films called The Deep Blue Sea, you guys should check it out if you haven’t already. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Eighteen-Part One

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #scott lang #ant man #marvel cinematic universe

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