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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Note

My beloved! I do not know if you watched the recent lore stream ( if you haven't please! Watch it before answering my ask! ) I was wondering if you could do something with eret and foolish where instead of foolish dying it's the reader? And the reader is on her last life after she died from badboyhalo? Just some angst ( please I wanna cry out my feelings after this stream omg- and plus your my favorite writer so yea :p)

Have an amazing day! <3

-Moosh

BELOVED! EEEEEEE I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE ERET FOR SOOOOO LOOOOONG YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I'm just going to make it an Eret x Reader because I don't know Foolish's character too well if that's okay?

(ALso, you will make me cry from all these compliments, please ;^;)

I actually am adding onto this because I want to make a hybrid reader for once, hope you don't mind! ^^

SPOILERS FOR THE RED BANQUET AND MULTIPLE PRONOUNS USED FOR ERET

My Monarch (C!Eret x GN!Butterfly Hyrbid!Reader)

You giggled softly, your beautiful paper-thin wings flitting behind you as you hopped around Eret's room while he got his newly tailored red cloak chained together, "My goodness, monarch, you're going to waste up all your energy before the party even begins!" He laughed at your reddened cheeks while he put his crown on top of his neatly styled hair, putting his sunglasses on shortly after, "How do I look?"

"Like a true queen!" You chirped, adjusting your outfit in the mirror beside your lover before frowning and taking the glasses away from her, "Ah, ah, nope. If I'm having my wings out of my cloak, you aren't wearing your sunglasses, darling, we've been over this."

The royal huffed and gave a small pout but didn't argue much on the matter, as they did, in fact, practically beg you to keep your wings out for display for the banquet. With a small chuckle, they reached over and picked up your crown that was decorated with rainbows of jewels, placing it on your styled (h/l) (h/c) hair, being mindful of your antennae, "There... There's my monarch."

You blushed slightly at the nickname and gave a small giggle as you took his hand, "Come on, let's get going, Bad will get impatient if we're late." Eret gave a nod with a smile, leading you towards the door and out of his castle.

The two of you were happily chatting with each other as you travelled to the stairway that led underground, happily saying hellos to your 'mama' Puffy, who gave you typical motherly affection, ie: smooshing your cheeks as she gave you a light headbutt while calling you every motherly compliment in the book, and anyone else that was also invited to the Banquet. When you arrived, you took a sharp breath as you saw the room filled with red vines crawling and writhing everywhere, it sickened you... But, this was about Bad apologizing, and you supposed that you could put your discomfort off to the side for just a little bit.

Eret, being the gentleman she was, pulled out your chair for you and gestured for you to sit down, smiling softly as you gave her a kiss on the cheek and sat down in the chair. She pushed you in and sat in the chair to your left, Puffy on your right, gently taking your hand once she was tucked into the table.

You were so anxious that you could barely focus on the speech Bad was giving, until your ears and antennae picked up the sound and scent of running lava which successfully shook you out of your thoughts, but before you could mention anything to Eret, you heard a chuckle.

"Now, prepare to die."

There was a chorus of gasps that tore from everyone's mouths as the sound of lava got louder. You lifted your head from staring at the red soup in the bowl in front of you and looked around in horror as you saw lava blocking the exits. You felt Eret tighten their grip on your hand, but by then your heart was already racing in fear and your wings were shifting around nervously.

"Oh my god!"

"We've been walled in!"

"After all that?!"

Bad tossed his empty glass bottle to the side, causing it to shatter on the ground below and get greedily grabbed at by the red vines, "Well uh, that's right."

"Bad, what about turning over this leaf?!" Captain Puffy snapped, slamming her mostly empty bottle of water down on the table as she stood up.

The nine-foot-tall demon seemed to nonchalantly brush off her outburst and shook his head lamely, "No, the leaf is staying the way it is." He sat up properly in his chair and rested his elbows on the warped wooden table to hold his chin in his hands.

"Is... There any way out?" You asked aloud, quickly spinning around, looking for any gap that you could possibly fly through. Eret quickly wrapped his arm around you, his white eyes wide with slight hints of fear that he was used to hiding with his glasses.

"No! There's literally no way out!" Fundy cried out, restlessly shuffling and running around, trying to find anything everyone could use to escape.

HBomb gave a small shriek of pain as he burned his hand on the lava, "It is real lava! It is real lava!" He gasped out as Puffy quickly made him shove his hand into the bowl of beat soup. Bad calmly walked over and gave him a glimmering gold apple with a sickly sweet smile.

"You should try not to die yet, HBomb." He chuckled softly as he returned to his seat once the man eagerly bit into the potion soaked fruit, desperate to get rid of the burning sensation.

Puffy took a few deep breaths and held out her arms, trying to get everyone to stop freaking out completely, "We're fine, we're fine, we're fine! I- I didn't trust you, Bad, I didn't trust you at all. I didn't trust Antfrost. I knew! I knew something was up, it's unfortunate to say I can't trust either one of you... Because... I planned this..."

She eagerly ripped off the red silken table cloth to reveal a chest buried in the table, spilling drinks and soup everywhere for the vines to eagerly writhe towards, "Oh?! What?!" Bad gasped, his mouth parting in shock... Before it fell bad into a devious smile as Puffy gave a cry of confusion, finding the chest completely empty, "Oh? Were you... Looking for this, perchance?"

Bad equipped diamond enchanted armour and held up an enchanted diamond sword that glimmered in the light of the lava, Ant, Ponk... And Hannah... Doing the same, "Sorry Puffy. I had to do it..." Hannah Rose walked over and sat in the empty seat on Bad's left.

"Do... What, Hannah? Why?!" The Ram hybrid whispered in horror.

"I had to tell them." She responded simply, blinking a few times as her eyes went from a forest coloured green to redder than the colour of the egg's vines slithering around your ankles, "The egg..."

Biting back a sob, you looked at Hannah, "You were with them the whole time...?"

Sam stood completely still, looking at the girl sadly, "You... Told them, Hannah?" The warden murmured.

"I had to." She glanced at Bad with a small grin before looking back at her former friends, including you, "It was the only way."

"I'm sorry," Bad started, sounding almost completely genuine, if it wasn't for the crooked smile he was wearing, "I'm sorry Sam, I'm sorry Puffy. But, time to get on to the main event!"

The creeper hybrid held up his hand, pointing one finger to the ceiling to silently tell the Eggpire to hold on for just a moment, "Well... That is, tragic, that you told them about our plans for the armour, but..." You could tell Sam grinned behind his mask as his green eyes gave a few sparks of smugness, "Something, you should know. I had another plan. Because I didn't trust you."

"...What do you mean 'another plan'?" Bad pointed his loaded crossbow at the warden, eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Well," He pulled a remote out of his pocket and scanned it in mock curiosity, "I think, that we all can agree, that this has gone on long enough now. I'm tired of all this fighting. So I say we just blow the egg up. For good, this time, with an amount of TNT that it can't survive... So I hid a trap..."

'Of course... The creeper hybrid is using TNT...' You thought with a small smile, trying to distract yourself from the heartstopping fear overwhelming your body at the moment as Bad stuttered in surprise.

"A trap?! Wait, what do you mean!?" the demon growled as Sam got up and walked slightly closer to the egg, digging his thumb into the button on the remote he held.

"We did something even you couldn't prepare for!" Puffy shouted as TNT began to rain out of a small gap in the ceiling.

Eret, worrying for your safety and how the sounds or smell of gunpowder would affect your hypersensitive senses, pulled you close and she wrapped you in her cloak. You desperately grasped at the fabric of her red dress as she covered your ears in an attempt to make the loud booms easier for your insect senses to handle.

By the time it stopped and Eret let you go, there were shocked gasps and the egg... Had... Turned to crying obsidian? "You guys-" Bad had to take a breath through his maniacal laughter to wipe a tear, "You really thought you could defeat the egg? With TNT? After Quackity tried that, we took proper... Preparations. And we made it so that we wouldn't have to worry about TNT anymore, thank you very much!"

"I think you mean precautions..." You murmured quietly, curling in on yourself and hiding behind Eret slightly when you saw soulless white eyes glare in your directions.

"Shut up, (Y/n)." He huffed, and Eret had to physically stop Puffy from storming over and fighting the man in diamond armour with her bare hands, "Now, would you all please kindly make your way over here... We can begin the summary executions."

Shock flooded through your veins at how eagerly Bad hopped out of his chair them walked over to where the Egg, the crying obsidian fading away, and standing on a platform. There was a chorus of shocked cries and just cries in general as Bad waved his crossbow around, "What about the speeches man?!" Fundy growled, glaring at Bad as he tried to get you all to leave the table.

"Oh, that was all just to lull you into a false sense of security!" He responded with another crooked smile and a 'duh' tone, "You see, the egg needs something, and it's gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the egg to hatch, it needs energy, and it gets that energy from people dying near it! And that's the role that you guys are gonna fill! We are gonna kill you one by one..."

"You're a monster..." Eret mumbled under their breath, holding your hand tightly, able to feel your racing heart from the pulse in your wrist. This had gone on long enough, sure, destroying everything on the server was one thing, but threatening not only their life, not only their friends' lives, but their lover's life as well! You only had two more before you were gone from this world forever... And by whatever gods were listening, they swore that they were going to protect those final two, even at the risk of their own life.

Bad turned his head, his twisted smile faltering slightly, "What was that, Eret? What did you say?" He leaned closer mockingly, to see if Eret really had the guts to repeat what was just said.

"You're an absolute monster," Eret repeated with a slight growl to his voice this time, taking a step closer to the corrupted man as a threat and also effectively blocking you from Bad's gaze, "How could you? We all trusted you, Bad."

"Trust?!" Ant spoke up for the first time that night, grinning almost like a Cheshire cat, "Okay, Eret... Keep talking. Keep talking about trust."

Sucking a breath through your gritted teeth, you cringed as Ant retorted with a verbal dagger, one he knew would hurt Eret deeply, and hurt her it did, "That was a long time ago!" You snapped immediately, stepping forwards to defend her which definitely caught everyone off guard. You were NOT about to let some egg puppets trash talk your lover, "She's changed!"

"You know what..." Bad hummed, almost comically tapping his finger to his lip before pointing at Eret, "I think, Eret, you would be a perfect person... To sacrifice first!"

Giving a cry of horror, you felt the red vines react to Bad's words and grab you and Eret, successfully yanking you away from each other despite your cries and struggles of protests. The large vines picked Eret up and brought them to the execution platform that Bad was standing on. The entire time, you were trying to run over to grab them, but the vines kept creating a wall and pushing you back, "No! No, no, no!" You screamed desperately, trying to reach out to the crown-wearing lover that was now being held on the platform by the very vines that were holding you back.

"Does anyone have anything?!" Foolish cried, quickly patting his pockets and looking around for anything, anything at all, to use as a weapon.

"I- We have no weapons!"

"No one has anything?! We literally can't do anything about this!"

Bad only chuckled, seeming to find amusement in everyone's distress, "Excellent, excellent, I really appreciate you guys following the directive and not bringing any weapons. That's very courteous of you." He turned towards Eret with his readied crossbow, gleefully ignoring your cries.

"We trusted you!" You yelled, throwing a useless punch at the wall of vines that blocked your way again, everyone roaring at the Eggpire in agreement with your statement.

"Well that was your first mistake," He chided in almost a playful manner, "Did you really think we were just going to stop trying to spread the egg's influence over the server, just because a couple people got mad at the vines? Like, come on. That's been the objective all along. It's been to hatch the egg. The egg wants power, and it's gonna get it."

His finger lightly began tapping at the trigger of his crossbow that had the bolt pointing to your lover's head, which caused a sob to escape past your lips as you finally had enough and finally flew into the air, expertly weaving past the red vines that tried to grab you out of the air. Quickly, you swooped down and reached out for Eret, but you felt something fly past your ear... Then suddenly, the king gave a cry of his own and you felt your flying balance get thrown off, causing you to begin to plummet towards the ground.

The horrified shrieks of your lover, mother figure and your friends rang through your ears as you quickly plummeted towards the earth as a result of gravity, only to be suddenly halted in mid-air which caused your crown to fall to the ground, completely wrapped in vines that clearly didn't care how badly they were bending your wings. You whined in pain at the tight grip, and looked over at your beloved butterfly features, only to give a sob of pain as you saw a large tear had sliced through your right (f/c) wing... "You... You bastard..." You hissed at the demon who came over and reloaded another bolt into his crossbow.

"You know, I think I like your energy more than your lover's." He cupped your chin in an almost loving fashion, causing Eret to immediately lash out and begin barking insults as well as threats. Unfortunately, her violence was ignored as the vines picked her up again, "Your unwavering loyalty, your love, your fierceness despite how fragile you are..."

"Get your hands away from them!" Puffy yelled, she and Foolish going to run to help you, but they were blocked off by the vines in the same way you once were, "For fucks sake Bad! Leave my child alone! They were just defending Eret, you know, their lover?!"

Bad only hummed as the vines lamely tossed Eret to the crowd of people, but thankfully he was caught by Foolish and Sam instead of hitting the ground but his crown hit the ground close to yours, breaking most of the rainbow coloured gems off, "I'm quite aware of their relationship, thank you, Puffy." He stepped back and the vines threw you to the ground on the execution platform, causing you to bounce off the nether bricks harshly before finally rolling into the centre.

Your head was spinning and your sight was blurry, but you still managed to hear the screams of terror from your friends, the begging from Puffy for Bad to leave you alone, and the sobs leaving Eret's throat as they cried out for you, "Monarch... (Y/N)!" They screamed, trying to run to you as well, but unsurprisingly they were held back as well.

It... was funny... You wanted to go to this party so badly... You begged Eret to come to this party, you spent weeks picking out your outfit... You were so excited...

And now here you were... Flightless and beyond concussed...

About to die...

"I love you..." You managed to whisper to Eret before Ant rose his enchanted sword... Then quickly lowering it, piercing through your chest...

"(Y/N)! NO!"

(Y/n) (L/n) was slain by Antfrost. Lives 1/3

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urmindisastreamofcolors · 3 years

Text

Greta Van Fleet One Shots: How You Meet

T/W: Mentions of a car wreck

Josh:

It was an unexpected turn of events, but Josh liked to refer to it as universal intervention. Every morning you walked ten minutes down the street to your favorite coffee shop to get something heavily caffeinated before holing yourself up in your art studio for the rest of the day. This morning activity had gone past routine a long time ago and had quickly become ritual. You had found out that walk was a great way for you to start your day for sculpting with clay.

One rainy fall morning right before Halloween, you were surprised to see four young guys milling around the coffee shop seeming to enjoy the atmosphere while they discussed various pieces of art from local artists lining the walls. A few of the pieces of photography were yours from when you visited the Grand Canyon a couple summers ago, but since then, your attention had been focused on pottery.

After a steaming latte was firmly secured in your hand and a hefty tip left for the baristas, you began to make your way back to the door as you planned out your day mentally. Before you could grab the door handle, one of the shorter guys from the group with curly hair quickly held the door for you with a breathtaking smile. You hadn’t been into photography in years, but you would’ve died on the spot to have captured that grin on camera.

You offered your thanks quickly as you your face was suddenly on fire. He had to of known you were staring, but what you didn’t know was the he had been staring since you entered the coffee shop.

“Hey! Wait! What’s your name,” the young man called after you as you stepped outside onto the sidewalk. The morning light made him squint his deep brown eyes as he stared at you, waiting on an answer.

“I’m y/n,” you answered shyly as you pushed a stray piece of hair out of your face and nearly slapped yourself when you realized you totally forgot to ask his. Before you could open your mouth, he had already beat you the punch and leaned back against the building with his arms crossed and a confident grin on his face.

“So, y/n....do you come here often?”

Danny:

The music was so loud that you were sure your head would burst. You could feel the beat of the music in your the center of your chest as you sipped on your drink. Your friend, y/f/n, was friends with a drummer for a pretty famous band and they extended an invitation to their house party to kick off their new album release. While you though Greta Van Fleet was a weird name for a rock n’ roll band, you did like their music.

Bob Seger blared through the house as you continued the search for your friend. The body heat from the crowd was coming off in waves and making you feel dizzy. You were just ready to leave, but you couldn’t leave your friend behind. A tap on your shoulder had you turning quickly coming face to face with a tall guy with long black hair who offered you a friendly smile.

“Hey! I’m Danny. I’m friend’s with y/f/n too! She’s been looking all over for you,” he yelled over the music as he pointed in the direction of your friend who was jumping up and down trying to get your attention. You and Danny laughed as some random guy with long hair and a pink shirt started doing the same thing to make fun of her.

“That’s Sam. He’s my best friend. It’s getting to be a bit much in here, so we’re all going to step out for a few minutes if you would like to join. Unfortunately, I don’t know everyone here tonight and I don’t want to leave you by yourself,” Danny yelled over the music with a kind look on his face.

“Yeah! That would be great! I was actually getting a bit overwhelmed, so I’m glad you’re here dude,” you shouted back as you placed your hand in the crook of his offered elbow. As you two made your way to the edge of the room where your friends were waiting, people stumbled over each other to get your way and were yelling and patting Danny on the back. A sudden realization ran through body as you felt your eyes widen at the idea that this was the Danny from Greta Van Fleet.

Sam:

You and Ronnie had been best friends for as long as you two could remember which meant her brothers annoyed you as much as they did her. Throughout your high school years, you honestly didn’t have a crush on any of them but found their friendship to be as irreplaceable as Ronnie’s.

Once they made their big debut, you didn’t see them often and you and Ronnie both attended different colleges. In fact, you had a once in a lifetime opportunity to study abroad and couldn’t pass it up.The miles between you and Ronnie didn’t matter and you talked every single day and normally face-timed too. Any updates on the boys came from her or Karen. You did miss hanging out in the garage on the weekends and playing pranks, but as the days turned into years, you didn’t think much more of it.

Finally, you were able to go home for a much needed visit after your year abroad and apparently, Ronnie and the boys would be home at the same time too. Quickly, you all made plans to hang out at the first possible moment and you were jittery with excitement on your flight back to US.

After taking a couple days to catch up on some much needed rest, you were finally able to go hang out at the Kiszka house. When you got there, you didn’t even knock on the door and waltzed straight into the living room like you had always done. Ronnie and the boys were sprawled all over the furniture with the exception of Danny who always preferred the floor. Hearing your entrance, Ronnie let out a scream as she lept over the back of the couch and literally sent you sprawling to the ground with her on top of you.

“Okay-Ronnie-Ronnie! Let go of my neck! I can’t breathe,” you croaked out as the only Kiszka girl finally loosened her death grip and helped you up. All the boys got up next to give you a quick hug, but you noticed one missing.

“Where’s Sammy,” you asked as your heard his feet hitting the steps on his way down. With a huge grin, he made his way over to get a hug, but you felt yourself swallow quickly as you willed yourself not to blush. Little Sammy had apparently grown up on tour and Sam was the one approaching you with his arms outstretched. Giving you a tight squeeze, you could smell his shampoo from his long hair and willed your heart to slow down.

You had never had a crush on any of Ronnie’s brothers, but that had quickly changed in less than a minute.

Jake:

The radio was still playing as you hung upside down in your car. Your seat belt was the only thing holding you in place. You could taste the blood in your mouth and salty tears and blood ran into your hairline. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you scanned your surroundings and tried to remember how you ended up in the current situation, but nothing immediately came to mind which made you cry harder. You were sobbing when you could hear voices drifting through the shattered windshield.

Despite the pain in your ribs and the tightness of the seat belt, you let out a blood curdling screech that ended in hiccups and sobs. A few moments later, you heard hurried footsteps and gravel crunching..

“Josh! Call 911!”

“Damn! How are we going to get her out? Should we move her?”

“I don’t know! Did anyone get that license plate? She was ran off the road!”

The voices blurred together and your eyes felt heavy. They began to flutter shut when a guy with long hair and a worried expression stuck his head in your car from the busted passenger side window.

“Hey! Stay awake! I know you’re tired, but you have to stay awake. What’s your name,” he asked gently as he wiggled into the car and grabbed on of your hands. The calluses were a drastic difference to your soft palms and he absentmindedly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Y/n. It’s y/n,” you stuttered out.

“It’s nice to meet you. Help’s on the way, okay? I’m Jacob, but I go by Jake. I wish we had met in better circumstances, but you have super pretty eyes,” he said with a soft smile.

“I’m scared, Jake,” you said as a new flood of tears ran into your hairline.

“I know. I’m going to stay right here. You’re not alone. I promise,” Jake said with sincerity as he continued to comfort you.

On the verge of bleeding out, you honestly were wondering if he wasn’t your guardian angel.

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet oneshots #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #howyoumeetoneshot #gvf #josh gvf #jake gvf #sammy kiszka #sammy gvf #danny gvf

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

quirk mastery

— In which Mirio gets his quirk back and he’s desperate to show you just how well he’s remastered permeation.

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pairing: togata mirio x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, pwp-ish, semi-public sex, clothed sex, anal, size difference, finger sucking, fingering

word count: 4,021

a/n: day three of kinktober and here we be!!! this was based on the concept of mirio being the perfect candidate for have clothed penetrative sex LMAOOO. make sure to comment (even if its a simple emoji) on any fics you like, authors super appreciate it.

main kink: anal

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To be quite honest, you never thought Mirio was going to get his quirk back.

You remember when it happened in high school.

The cold fall morning as you had woken up earlier than usual for a school day, deciding that maybe you should get a cup of tea given that it had been cold and something just felt off.

Nearly three years ago, when you had arrived through the doors of UA as a hero student, you had taken your seat in class 1-B, and almost immediately, your class became your family. Everyone was so talented, lively, and brimming with their own excitement of being here, but one person always just seemed to be brighter than the rest.

His smile captivated the first moment he looked at you, his blue eyes so precise and accurate you knew immediately he was someone to trust.

His name was Togata Mirio, and true to his sunshine hair, his own sunshine personality allowed the entire class to address him by his first name within hours of meeting him. It was no surprise that you felt your heart skip a beat when he placed a strong arm around your shoulder later in the year because you had fallen for your classmate.

As a third-year, you still harbored deep feelings for your classmate and now best friend. But you knew better than to enact on them at the moment. You were busy with your hero work, and his latest work-study with the former All Might’s sidekick kept him busy nearly every day.

He would still be there once you graduated, you always liked to remind yourself. But as energetic as Mirio was, he definitely was not an early riser. So it shocked you that as you reached the dorm's kitchen area, he was standing there quiet and fully dressed in his school uniform. His eyes were concentrated on his phone, and his face was serious, for a moment, the off feeling you had seemed to make sense as you stared at his solemn face.

“Mirio?” you had called out, suddenly feeling a bit underdressed in your pajamas, and you held onto your elbow as you stared at your flirt of a classmate. “You okay? We still have an hour and a half before classes start.”

It seemed that he had not even heard you enter the room based on how he startled just the bit before turning his gaze towards you.

Blue eyes murky with regret and guilt. You hated that they weren't clear, and you always hoped they would be cleared soon.

“I’ve got my work-study today,” Mirio answers with a soft smile that doesn’t clear his eyes. “Something came up, so I'll be gone for the morning. We’ll probably be back before classes end today.”

You nod your head, already knowing who belonged within that we.

“Are you doing okay? You’ve been looking a bit… uh, worse for wear, and I don’t want you getting hurt because you’re distracted by other things,” you admit, venturing further into the kitchen so that you leaned against the opposite side of the counter of where Mirio stood.

The smile on his face grows just a bit, a small spark dazzling in his clear blue eyes before he shakes his head good-naturally.

“You admitting you care about me?”

“Have I ever denied it?”

Mirio laughs softly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck before a heavy sigh passes his lips, “I guess not.”

You keep the frown off your face at those words, his inability to flirt back slightly concerning, but you stop before you can frown. By the front door of the dorms is none other than Tamaki and Nejire from class 1-A, two other close friends of yours, and equally involved in this case of theirs that they all refuse to tell you about. Guess that’s what happens when you join Edgeshot’s agency.

Mirio follows your gaze and motions to your friends that he’ll be joining them in just a moment before he turns back to you.

“Well, looks like it’s time,” Mirio speaks with finality, his shoulders as stiff as his smile, and your heart aches just the slightest bit.

“Be careful, Mirio,” you say firmly, your eyes locked on his that have become emotionless. That pit in your stomach is unignorable as you speak up on your concerns. “I know you’re strong, but please be careful.”

Mirio stills for a moment before he nods, and he walks around the counter. His arms stretching out, pulling you into a tight hug that you more than willingly return. It seems like the two of you stand there hugging each other for centuries before Mirio makes a soft noise in an unwilling attempt to tell you to let go.

“I know, I know,” you sigh, pulling away, your eyes meeting his for the millionth time. “You’ve To-gata go now.”

And for the first time in weeks, his blue eyes clear up, and a proper genuine laugh breaks through his lips as he shakes his head, already walking away.

“You’re pretty amazing, y/n-chan!” he shouts as he opens the front door, and you can hear Nejire calling her hellos to you. “I’ll be back before you can even blink!”

“You better!” you call out, waving at your three friends who bunch up and walk off.

As you watch their retreating backs, the pit in your stomach remains as you whisper softly: please.

It’s within twenty-four hours that you find out the case they were working, and you feel sick when Mirio doesn’t return, confirming to you that he was the one to have lost his quirk that day. When Mirio returns two days later, it’s not with good news as he admits to you that he’ll be leaving UA now that his quirk is gone.

His eyes are clear again, not at all like he was two days ago as the two of you seem to only be talking to one another within the crowd of both class 3-A and 3-B. It’s later once everyone is gone that he admits that a young girl who was responsible for his quirks erasure could potentially bring it back, but it’s unknown at the moment.

You remember holding his cheeks and promised him that even if it doesn’t come back, he would always be a hero who, in the end, did what he set out to do, saving a million people. It was almost shocking to you as you watched for the first time since his teacher died in front of him, Mirio crying yet again, his face buried into the crook of your neck.

But that was five years ago.

Five long years of being a Pro Hero in a society that no longer looked the same.

Three years of finally being able to call Mirio your boyfriend.

One year of organizing the current hero gala, the two of you are attending right now.

One month of Mirio finally regaining his quirk.

In a heavily watched attempt, Eri-chan, who had been able to figure out a way to train her quirk. It was all due to the help of a young yet brilliant support engineer, Hatsumi Mei, without having to interact with real soul-having things. It took almost ten hours, but the young girl was both resilient and determined as you watched as she sat with her fingers pressed to Mirio’s cheeks and a warm yellow glow surrounded her.

The shriek that ripped through you when Mirio suddenly fell through the floor, your initial fear of Eri completely rewinding him from existence flaring in your chest, and undoubtedly hers as she gasped in horror. You watched his clothes dropping from where he once sat, and then you could hear the familiar, distant sound of Mirio being rejected by matter, and you bolted at Eri. It was a frantic team effort response to make sure Eri would not see him in his naked glory when he resurfaced, and that memory still sent you in a round of uproarious laughter.

But a Heroes Gala was something that was occurring recently, and it wasn’t quite what it had once been before. Pro Heroes were not recognized within these events; instead, the common man was, and more importantly, helping those deemed as outcasts within society. With the reign of AFO gone, and the destruction of what the heroism did to society, it had been a weird shift in energy, but a needed one.

Pro Heroes Deku and Ground Zero being the trailblazers on that front, pushing to look at the reasons the world deemed villains as so, and doing their best to fix it at the source.

It definitely wasn’t perfect, far from it actually, but these galas helped to keep energies high on many different fronts.

Speaking of high energy, if your face was able to emit heat energy similar to that of a sun, right now, you would be a supernova.

Located in some hallway in the back of the event, you sat on a marble table. Your legs somehow wrapped around Mirio’s waist, arms thrown around his neck, pressing his gliding lips even closer to you as he enthusiastically, carefully, and completely dominated your lips. To the rest of the world, it just seemed like the two of you were simply indulging into your horny twenty-three-year-old needs. There was nothing conspicuous about what you both were doing, not if your clothed states had anything to say about it.

But that was just the thing.

Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, the large, voluminous skirt of your evening gown easily covered Mirio’s powerful, thrusting hips, blanketing his ulterior motives with fabric from the rare eye that managed to come and look at the both of you.

Maybe if they had x-ray vision, they would know the truth; they could see it too.

For not even five minutes ago, you had teasingly whispered just how hot Mirio looked in his get-up. Your teeth nibbling on his earlobe about how excited you were that when you two would inevitably get home, his clothes would be gone in a matter of seconds. It seemed that your boyfriend wanted to jump the gun and just show you what both of you had been missing these past three years.

You could barely keep up with his quick, long strides. Your heels caught onto the length of your gown multiple times until he had brought you into this hallway and picked you up without so much of a grunt and planted your bottom on the exceptionally sturdy table. It still hadn’t hit you just what he had intended to do when his lips crashed against yours, and the world exploded into white static as he kissed you, consuming your mouth with every fiber of his being.

A gentle moan left your mouth when his tongue entered your mouth, but the prominent, hard bulge pressing between you and the many, many layers of fabric made you yelp. You pulled away from his lips, your eyes, wide, impossibly frantic.

“Togata Mirio!” you hissed in shock, your hand slapping across your mouth as you simply stared at your lover who was smiling at you brightly.

The smile and the clear blue of his eyes let nothing indicate just how fucking hard he was and how much he craved your cunt around his cock just as you had teased him about earlier.

“What is it, sunflower?” Mirio asks, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. Your spine stiffens up as he leans in close, his mouth pressing against yours for a small, seemingly chaste kiss before he presses the corner of his mouth to your ear. “I think I’m having some issues with my quirk control, and I think this is the perfect way to practice the uh… fine-tuning of my quirk. Right?”

“Mirio…” you warn as he softly begins to grind against you, his large hand shifting from your shoulder blades down to your lower back. The pressure of his hand provided such numbing heat to blaze through your core, and it only added to the feeling of his cock against your slowly seeping cunt.

“Dontcha want to help me practice?” Mirio asks, his teeth biting onto your earlobe, and a wanton moan reverberates from your chest at the feeling. “Help me master my quirk again?”

You’re not sure what makes you cave, what makes you say fuck it under your breathe. It could have been the heat of his breath on your ear, the way he kissed down your jaw, the clear blue of his eyes glazing over darkly with lust, and maybe it was the way you could manage to feel his cock through the miles of fabric between the two of you. It didn’t matter now anyway, it couldn’t because you turned towards his face, your lips desperately seeking his, and thankfully Mirio met you there immediately.

Hot desperate mouths clashing together, tongues meeting in the middle, and you could feel his hands shoving you towards him until there was no space between your meeting hips if you ignored the dress and his pants.

Your hazed over mind chanted to be ready for anything, to be prepared for the feeling of his cock against your already soaked cunt, and to not be surprised. Nevertheless, when you felt the hot, heavy, and stupidly thick head of Mirio’s cock pressing between your desperately needy folds, going against all of your brain's logic of how this shouldn’t be possible with your panties still on.

“M-Mirio!” you cried, head knocked back at the feeling of his cock pressing through your tight, clenching hole. His cock thick, veiny, and hot, even in your inner walls as he kisses you. You couldn’t focus on him, your mouth agape and lax, his lips pressing against your teeth, tongue curling on the roof of your tongue, and you wantonly moaned as he shifted outwards and slammed right back into you.

For the past three minutes, the two of you had begun this desperate, needy, over your clothes public fuck. Your hands feeling so small, pressed onto his back. Your mouth biting into his neck as he slammed into you over and over again.

The heat in your stomach was throbbing, the soft thrumming of your orgasm about to tip as Mirio claimed you like this.

“So cute like this, baby,” he laughed as if his cock wasn’t stretching you out despite all your clothes still being on. You felt his cock head press up against your cervix, and a loud pathetic whine stumbled out of your lips. “Did you like that? Finally, got to that little spot you like despite this angle?”

He hit it again, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, all noises that so desperately wanted to be heard getting cut off.

“Look at you! You’re so cute like this, sunflower! You can’t even look at me, and you’re babbling! I think I’m doing great… job… at this, fuck, quirk control…”

Your eyes flutter shut, a gasping, needy breath expelling into his mouth as he kisses you greedily, and the heat grows exponentially when his hand permeates through your dress to pinch and pull at your clit. You’re so close, so deliriously near that, you begin to seize up, your walls fluttering with the actions that you know mean that you’re about to nosedive off a cliff into orgasmic bliss.

But there were always issues with having sex in public with a man who could not shut up.

“Togata-senpai, Y/l/n-senpai!” A voice yells at the two of you. Even with the thrumming warmth of your pre-orgasm, the voice washes coldly over you. Rippling the start of orgasmic bliss right from beneath your feet as you snap your head away from Mirio.

A loud, choked gasp escapes you when for a split second, his cock disappears from your clenching, denied cunt in an experience you could not begin to explain.

“Iida-kun!” Mirio exclaimed jovially as if the two of you weren’t at all fucking moments before, but as he did so, he seemed to deactivate his quirk on his cock.

“What are the two of you doing here! It is quite preposterous for the two of you to be… canoodling within the gala when we are all awaiting your presence!” Iida exclaims, his hands cutting and chopping at the air as he seems to frown at the both of you.

But you were busy with other thoughts.

With his cock completely solid back inside of you, tears were leaking from your eyes as white, hot pain erupted in your stomach and curled all the way down into your toes.

Mirio returned his cock into your ass, and the lack of any warning due to his quirk nearly had you throwing up in this new sensation. Your fingers curled roughly into Mirio’s shoulders, your ragged breathing “I’m-in-so-much-pain” breathes alerting both of the men before you who turned their attention to you.

“Are you okay, sunflower?” Mirio asked, his voice filled with genuine concern as he brushed a tear that managed to streak down your cheek. “What’s going on?”

“Yes, what is going on? What can I get for you, Y/l/n-senpai?”

“It h-hurts!” you cry, eyes locking onto Mirio’s, who seemed to gather just what was going on as his eyes grow with worry and also knowing actions.

He shifted slightly, and his cock that was already so big moved within your ass, and you balked. You leaned forward onto Mirio’s chest, feeling absolutely dwarfed by your boyfriend as you held onto him with trembling arms and soft groans of pain and growing, intense pleasure.

“Ah, Iida-kun, would you mind if you could possibly give us some room? I promise we’ll join the gala in less than ten minutes?”

You can’t even see Iida’s reaction given that your eyes are leaking with your tears and the fact that you can’t even raise your head to look at your old younger-classmen.

“Of course, I’ll leave y/l/n-senpai to you, but if anything happens, please come and get me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you!”

Your sniffling doesn’t seem to stop as Iida’s loud footsteps confirms his exit, but Mirio’s mouth is by your ear again, his hips taking a tentative, shallow thrust that sends you whining like a bitch in heat. Anal was something that Mirio loved to do. He always confessed to you each and every time as his cock would line up to your muscled rim that there was just something indescribably hot about you taking his cock that way.

Mirio was a big dude with a bigger cock, and you usually could, in fact, handle — thoroughly enjoy — anal with the proper steps to lead into it, but this was a cock appearing in your ass without warning or knowing of it happening. You could feel your tears streaming down your neck, but bubbling moans of pleasure had already started again. The pain of the surprise was already wearing off by the time Iida had disappeared, and Mirio was once again shifting his hips for your best pleasure.

“God, I can’t believe you took my cock in your ass that calmly,” Mirio whispers in pure admiration, his hips taking longer, deeper strokes into you. “That was so fucking hot, I’m sorry I lost control like that.”

“S-Shut up…” you gasped, hands fisting into his coat as you tried to ride out the waves of pain instead. “Fuck m-me already.”

The laugh that seems to grow right from Mirio’s stomach makes your skin crawl as he nods his head, his hands grabbing your chin to stir you into a kiss as he begins to thrust into your asshole with much more daring conviction.

“I always forget how much you like this!” he sighs against your lips. “Always so ready for my cock no matter where it is.”

You whimper loudly, teeth burying into your lower lip, the slick from your cunt slowly gliding down to his cock, allowing for partial lubing.

In and out, he moves, his hips moving faster than a manageable speed. Even without him being a hero, Mirio had kept himself in pique condition, and moments like this proved it. His fast rutting and delirious power into every slam of his cock into your ass was commanding and revolutionary. Your eyes welled with tears at the constipated feeling in your asshole, your mouth pressing back into his neck, sobbing his name. His fingers dive down and permeate through your dress and panties, and you swear you’re drooling when his calloused, hot fingers tweak and pull at your clit, savagely teasing it.

Mirio laughs softly at the way you’re trying to hide your cries of pleasure. How you’re burying your head into his shoulder, teeth biting into his clothed skin. His thrusting movements became quicker, harder, and more consistent until a familiar sensation of his balls slapping your skin burned your mind.

He was—

Holy shit—

He was making sure you could feel his once concealed balls against your skin and the warbled, shameless scream that he interrupted by shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“More,” you beg around his fingers, staring straight up at him. Your saliva coating his fingers, lips sucking around his fingers in hopes that he’ll heed your command. “Fuck my asshole harder.”

Mirio merely groans the pinch on your clit, making your hips buck awkwardly and pathetically against his cock and balls because of the table. And he began to barbarically slam into you so that the soft thudding of the counter hitting the wall shudders down your spine.

Your body shifts with his every movement, the counter rocking with the force, your slick pouring from your cunt, and he let go of your tongue. In your crazed state, you sob at the loss of contact, but his hand that had been playing and teasing your clit shifts so that his thumb resides on your clit, and three of his fingers curl into your throbbing, orgasm denied cunt. The force alone nearly sends your eyes flying open, your vision still blurred with tears when his fingers drag against your puffy walls that you knew would let you squirt if he manipulated it just enough.

His fingers work at double the speed of which his hips slam into you. His fingers pushing the limits of your heat radiating walls, dragging them deliciously against your clenching heat. Then there was his cock, and at times the thin walls that separated his fingers and his cock brushed together, sending you into a new frenzy while you sobbed his name.

Begging for more, pleading to make you come.

“You needa come, sunflower?” Mirio huffs, his sweaty forehead pressing against yours, and you moaned loudly, knowing that he was also close. “Then come for me. Come against my cock and my fingers!”

“I-It feels so fucking good, so good baby,” you garble. Your jaw is unable to move for its slack against his shoulder. Your cooes only adding to the electrifying pleasure singing through your nerves, and with a loud squelch from your pussy, you come hard against his fingers, your ass instinctively tightening up at well.

You could feel the more foreign sensation of wet heat fill your ass as Mirio collapses against you, his heart hammering in his chest as the two of you just sit there. Your hands shifting to thread into his soft, fluffy hair as his limp cock disappears from within you, and you groan at the loss of feeling.

“Gross…” you mumble as Mirio stands straight up again after some time.

“Wha—”

“You came in my ass,” you sigh, although not at all displeased with it.

“Oh, sorry! I got a bit overexcited!”

It takes an additional three minutes for you to be willing to move to return to the event, but as you do, Mirio has an arm around your waist, readying to keep you upright all night if needed.

“Ne, Mirio?” you call as the both of you return to the main stage.

“Hm?”

“I think you’ve pretty much mastered your quirk again!”

#togata mirio x reader #mirio x reader #mirio smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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rebelwrites · 3 years

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Banned From The Gym (NSFW)

Clay Spenser x Reader

A/N okay so I was inspired but Max’s latest Instagram story of him at the gym to write something and surprise surprise that thing was smut!!

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Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

It was far too early for you to be at the gym, the sun had only just started to come up, but your boss decided that you needed to be involved with all the meetings at the moment, meaning you were working late each night as there weren't enough hours in the day. Which also meant you had to start hitting the gym before work.

All you wanted to do was go back to bed and get a few more hours of sleep but here you were, determined to get yourself in shape, even if that meant getting up before the sun had risen. Pulling your hood up, you walked into the gym. One bonus of being at the gym at six am meant it wasn’t as busy.

The moment you walked in, you scanned the gym, your gaze landing on a guy you hadn’t seen before. He had his back to you but that didn’t stop you from looking, running your eyes over his back as he shirt pulled tight against his muscles, the fluffiness of his hair, and judging by the darkened patch on his shirt, he had been in here a little while.

You didn’t wanna seem like a creep so tore your gaze off him, heading over to the lockers to dump your bag. As you were getting your bottle out, you felt a pair of eyes on you, but shook the feeling off as you jumped onto the treadmill to warm up.

Clay knew every person in the gym, all except one. He saw you walk over to the lockers still looking like you were half asleep, which made him smile to himself. He had never seen you in the gym before, but it was clear to him that you came fairly often as he watched you dry scoop your pre-workout, following it up with water. It was safe to say he was intrigued by you.

He knew he shouldn’t watch, but he couldn’t help it as he kept his eyes focused on your ass as you walked on the treadmill. The only thing that dragged his attention off you was the sound of his phone going off, he didn’t need to look to see who it was, the text tone was only used when he was getting spun up.

Quickly he gathered his things, before walking out of the gym, purposely walking past the treadmills. The moment he walked passed, you looked up, locking eyes with him. He couldn’t help it as he threw you a wink before leaving the gym, just hoping that he would see you again.

Every day for the next week, you secretly hoped that the Blondie from the other day would be in the gym, you didn’t even know his name but since that day he kept creeping into your thoughts, and every time you thought about the wink he threw you as he left, it made your stomach flip. You just wanted to get to know him, but it was like luck wasn’t on your side. You didn’t have to go into work today but for some reason you still got up at the crack of dawn, in hopes of seeing the mystery blondie.

For some reason you had a bout of confidence today, wearing your favourite leggings, which were basically like a second skin, and just a cropped hoodie with a sports bra underneath. You had no idea where this confidence had come from, but you were rolling with it.

As you walked over to the lockers, you looked around to see if you could spot blondie, but he wasn’t here. Shaking the disappointment off, you dumped your things in the locker, dry-scooping your pre-workout.

Because you weren’t at work today you could spend longer in the gym, so after a forty minute walk on the treadmill you headed over to the free weights to start working on your shoulders and arms. You were in your own little world as you selected your weights, so you didn’t see the guy you were hoping to be here, walk into the gym.

Clay decided to keep his distance, he didn’t want to look like a creep. Even though he wanted to come over and start talking to you. One thing he did notice was how good your ass looked, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head all week and he was about to explode. So he silently decided that he would speak to you today. But again didn’t want to look creepy so he jumped on the treadmill to warm up for a bit.

You were in your own world as you put the weights onto the bar, so you didn’t realise that you had picked up the wrong ones, until you went to start lifting but then it was too late, the weight was too much and your elbows gave out. This was it, this was how you died, the barbell would crush your chest and you didn’t have the strength to push it off you.

All of a sudden the weight had been lifted, making you open your eyes, to see blondie standing over you, guiding the bar back onto the rack.

“You good?” He asked.

“Ye-yeah,” you stuttered, “Thanks,”

“No problems,” he smiled, “but maybe try not to do more than you can lift to try and impress people.” He joked.

“Urm, I” you babbled, feeling embarrassed, “I was distracted and picked the wrong weights up,” you admitted.

“That’s what they all say darling,” he winked, making you feel weak. “I’m Clay by the way,”

“Y/N,” you nodded, rolling off the bench, to swap the weights to the ones you could lift.

“I’ve got to say, I know every face in this gym and I’ve only seen you once,” Clay smiled as he stood over you watching as you did your reps.

“My boss sort of changed my hours up, I used to come in the evening,” you breathed. “But I dunno, just stuck in a rut with training at the moment, just can’t seem to progress.”

“Well if you want a gym buddy I don’t mind helping out,” Clay smiled, as your grip started to falter so he helped once again bring the bar up.

“No offence but looking at you and how you train, you’d fucking kill me,” you laughed “in more ways than one,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?” He smirked.

Fuck he heard you.

“Urm nothing,” you said rolling off the bench, just as your stomach growled and you realised just how hungry you were.

“Come on,” Clay smiled, grabbing his things.

“Where we going?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“To get food, duh.” He winked.

“I could be a serial killer for all you know,” you giggled.

“Well are you?” He asked.

“Nope,”

“Well then we are going to get breakfast,” he nodded.

“You have literally just met me and you are taking me for breakfast,” you said as you got your things out of your locker.

“I mean you are my gym buddy now,” Clay winked, “so what better way to bond than over some pancakes.”

“Now you are talking my language,” you giggled.

Since you and Clay went out from breakfast you were excited to get to the gym, it was like you had known each other for years, the conversation and banter flowed between you and there was some definite flirting going on.

But after every workout you were left feeling frustrated, you weren’t the kind of person to have friends with benefits but you were willing to just to fuck Clay at least once.

It was now Friday and today was your day off, which meant you and Clay had a longer workout. Your whole body ached as he pushed you to your limits and further.

“Right, I’m gonna grab a shower and then we can go for breakfast,” you panted. “Meet you back at the lockers.”

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze burning into your ass making you smile to yourself as you put an extra swing in your step.

Soon enough you were in the showers, feeling the hot water against your skin, made you sigh of relief. You knew after today’s session you would be aching. But you were starting to see results. As you spun around you got the shock of your life as you saw Clay standing there stark bollock naked. You didn’t know where to look but you definitely took a peak and you knew he was packing from the sweatpants he wore but damn he was bigger than you thought.

“Shit Clay,” you gasped, trying to cover your body, suddenly feeling self conscious. “This is the women’s changing room.”

“I know,” he said lowly, taking a step forward.

“Why are you in here?” You asked.

“To shower,” he winked, as he gently moved your hands from your chest. “Fuck your body is better than I thought,” he hummed.

“You’ve thought about my body?” You questioned.

“Ever since that first time I saw you in the gym,” he whispered, pushing you back against the tiled wall “you’ve been driving me crazy Y/N, but if you want me to go, just say the word and I will leave you in peace.”

“I mean seen as you are here now,” you whispered, “might as well make the most of it,”

“Good girl,” He hummed as he started kissing your neck, the moment his lips connected with your skin you gasped as the feeling sent tingles throughout your body. “I’ve thought about this moment for a while now,” Clay growled against your skin, “the feeling of your body against mine, hearing you whimper my name.”

“Clay,” you breathed, as he ran his hands down your body finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb over it. “Please don’t tease,”

“But teasing in fun babygirl,” he grinned, as he slipped a finger inside you making you moan at the feeling, you couldn’t help it as you started to ride his fingers, “Look at you, I’ve not even fucked you and you are so wet, riding my fingers.”

“Oh god,” you moaned, as you got closer and closer to climaxing, just from Clay’s fingers.

Your skin felt hot and not from the heat of the water, the way your body reacted to Clay’s touch amazed you. Everything about this was sending you into meltdown and it wouldn’t be long before you exploded.

“That’s it baby,” Clay whispered in your ear, nipping slightly, “Don’t hold back, I want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, burrying your face in the crook of Clay’s neck as you came. “Oh god, Clay,”

“I’ve got you baby,” Clay whispered, as he kissed the top of your head.

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered.

“Later darling,” he hummed, “I don’t think you can handle my dick right now,” he chuckled, “and plus we still need to go for breakfast.”

“But,” you whispered, “I want to be fucked.”

“I know, and I want to fuck you,” he whispered, kissing you softly “but I don’t want the first fuck to be in the showers at the gym.”

“Fine,” you huffed, resting your forehead against his, “But if I don’t get fucked at some point today then I’m going back to my evening gym sessions,” you giggled.

“We both know you enjoy the early morning workout too much to do that,” he laughed. “Now come on, let me wash your hair and then we can go get breakfast, I think you’ve worked up an appetite.”

Half an hour had passed and you were both dressed, walking hand in hand out of the women’s changing room, to find the owner of the gym standing there, arms folded against his chest with a scowl on his face.

“Think we got busted,” you giggled.

“You think it’s funny,” the owner snapped, “this is a gym not a sex club, I don’t want to see either of you in this gym again.”

“Wait, you're banning us?” Clay laughed.

“Hell yes,” the guy growled. “I will not have people use the changing rooms as a bedroom.”

“So worth it,” Clay smirked, kissing the top of your head, before leading you out of the gym.

“Can’t believe you got us banned,” you laughed.

“Darling, I wasn’t the one screaming,” Clay winked, making your cheeks heat up. “Don’t worry about the gym, I will speak to Blackburn and get you a pass for the base and we can use that gym. Now let’s go get pancakes I’m starving.”

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy

#Clay Spenser #clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #clay spenser oneshot #seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine #seal team oneshot

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dreams, Chapter 13

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 13

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1513

Summary: The reader has another dream with Dean, where he emphasizes how he feels in a variety of ways.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n, this section has a little smut, oblique mention of suicide

The last lingering kids are leaving the other side of the playground as the golden hour streams through the trees, likely going home to their families for dinner and homework and whatever else normal kids do on fall afternoons like this. Sunlight seeps into your jeans even as the air has a touch of chill to it, and when you pump your legs the balance feels amazing.

“What’re you, trying to go all the way around?” Dean laughs, looking impossibly overgrown in worn shit kickers on a swing meant for children next to yours. You throw your head back to laugh, feeling the wind through your hair as you soar past him. When the chains start to jump a little you back off, letting your momentum wind all the way down until you’re swaying back and forth lazily together. You reach over and slip your index into a new hole in the knee of Dean’s jeans. He links his fingers into yours loosely, play-coy. “You always did love these, you little minx.”

“What can I say? I like as much of your skin as I can get.” You give him your best Dean Winchester wink and he bites his lip through a chuckle. For a long minute you sit just like that, feeling the warmth and calm soak into your pores. “What should I do, Dean?” you murmur.

He swipes his thumb across the back of your hand. “He needs time. It’s going to be okay, I swear. You know Sam he’s just—he’s in his head.”

You nod to yourself. “It’s that we’re happier, right? Is that how this works, how you can come be my Friendly Neighborhood Freddie Krueger, or whatever?”

“The way Cas explained it was ‘closer to true serenity and self-realization’ so whatever the hell that means. You are, though, right? Happier?”

Meeting his eyes made you feel even more relaxed, steady and reassured regardless of how bizarre it was to tell him, “Yeah, I really am. Dean, I—I miss you so bad it still sometimes feels like I’m going to puke. But yeah, I’m happier with Sam. I love him, baby.”

Dean’s gaze goes fuzzy with affection around the edges. “Well, he’s pretty damn lovable. Runs in the family, what can I say?” He kisses the back of your hand. “Good.”

“Good?”

“It’s not a trap, babe. You’re still my girl.”

“I love you.” It’s all you can say, all you can think, really. You watch his profile for a moment as he squints against the low afternoon sun, casting beautiful sunflower light over his freckles. “What happens if I don’t wake up?”

“Your subconscious will kick me out and you’ll wake up automatically. I don’t think you can really control it.”

“No, I mean, like, if I don’t wake up?”

Dean turns toward you, jaw set hard and nostrils flared. “That’s not fucking funny.”

He tries to pull his hand out of yours but you tighten your grip. “What’s the point though? If you’re, you know, okay, can’t we just—”

“No, we ‘can’t just,’” he scowls. “All the bullshit I’ve done over the years to keep you two alive, but fuck it, who cares? Let’s throw in the towel, really make the whole thing worth it.”

“I’m—Dean, it’s not that. I just don’t understand what we’re waiting for. It’s not like Sam and I are even hunting anymore, there’s no more ‘bigger purpose’ to our lives, why be separated—”

“The ‘bigger purpose’ is you fucking being alive. That’s the bigger purpose. Forget it, off the fucking table.”

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it’s not really your call.”

Dean finally yanks hard enough to get his hand out of your grip and braces his elbows on his knees to hold his chin. The serious angles of his anger look out of place as he sways slightly, boots in the playground mulch where he sits on his swing. He looks back at you after taking a deep breath. “Kid, please. Just, please? I’m—that’s all I want, is you guys getting old, really getting out. I can’t have—I can’t have Sam’s whole life be only hunting, he deserves more than that.”

You scoff, half a derisive laugh. “Making his decisions from beyond the grave, that’s good, even for you.”

“Is it really that bad? All I’m asking you to do is wait. You’ll get here soon enough.”

“Yeah, it really is. It really is that fucking bad. And honestly, who are you to ask me that? You’re not here, Dean. How can you ask us to do it without you?”

“It’s not like you two are fucking here with me! Do you think I’m loving every minute of it, getting grapes fed to me by 1992 Pam Anderson all goddamn day? I’m alone. It’s heaven and I can, whatever, visit Bobby or our folks, get so blasted I can’t see and wake up with no hangover, but you two aren’t there. Do you get that? So I get some glimpses of you guys and I know you’re taking care of each other and I can fucking wait, because that’s the way things are supposed to be.”

He’s trying hard to keep his voice level but it’s coming out like a growl, and you know him, know from that clench of his jaw that he’s barely keeping it together, on this stupid swing set in this stupid gorgeous park, whose attached memory you can’t even recall.

“Hey,” you breathe, getting up out of your swing to stand in front of him, taking each of his hands and putting them around your hips as you slot one leg on either side of his waist and settle on his lap. This close you can practically count each of his eyelashes where they graze his cheekbones and you take one hand to tilt his face up to yours, your toes just barely grazing the ground behind him. “Okay. I’m sorry. Okay.” You curl forward into him, catching the plush of his lips and kissing Dean in apology. He snakes a hand into your hair, winding his fingers in it and kissing you back, and you feel the twinge of desperate frustration, meeting him there with everything you have, shifting all your weight onto his center of gravity and working as best you can to weld your body to his. Dean’s other hand slides to your lower back, under your shirt, the callused tips of his fingers digging into the skin and he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him, grabbing at his chest hard enough that you’re at risk of ripping his shirt, pink lines from your nails marking up Dean’s neck.

The hand in your hair tugs back, firm enough to be rough, and the noise you make is halfway between a moan and a whimper as he bites your neck, the sound hardening Dean through the denim under you and then he’s tearing at your shirt, not bothering with the obstacle of your jacket at all as he tries to shuck both off at once.

“We’re in a—Dean, we’re in a fucking playground,” you hiss, about two inches away from not caring.

“Babe, it’s a dream, we’re not really in a park,” he mutters along your jugular, the moist slick of spit turning ice cold in the fall air.

That’s all the permission you need and you lean back to let him rip, flicking open the metal of his belt buckle and button, unzipping his jeans. “Fuck—kid, careful with the zipper,” Dean grunts, diction poor as you bite his lower lip.

“I don’t want—to wake—up—before—" you murmur though fevered motion, licking and nipping along Dean’s jaw, and the realization gets Dean with the picture. He stands up fast, picking you up and crushing you into the metal pole of the swing set, practically shredding your jeans as his start to slump around his hips, worn plaid of his boxers covering the fast-thickening length of him and you turn to lean your chest against the pole, ready for him before he spins you hard.

“Need to see you,” he says, almost quiet and gentle as his hands are moving roughly against your body, and you see the touch of wetness at the base of his eyelashes while you try to stand on one leg and yank the other out of your pants as fast as you can.

It’s sloppy and goofy and unbelievably, gut-punchingly hot, wrapping your bare thigh around Dean’s hips as he shove-slides inside you, his hand protecting your skull from getting rammed into the metal. “I love you I love you I love you” you’re humming into the crook of his neck and Dean kisses you again, slowing down.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, pace no longer frenzied but rhythmic and building.

You press a palm to his chest and Dean pauses for a beat, stretch of him buried to the hilt so perfect it’s almost distracting but you still have to ask, “When am I going to s—”

“Hopefully soon.”

And then he’s gone.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 14

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pitch-pearl-void · 3 years

Text

Quick summary: Phantom gives Fenton romantic advice and gets caught in a trap of his own making

Fenton’s plans to bury his face in his pillow until Jazz or Maddie dragged him downstairs for supper died, decayed, withered away when he stepped into his room and found his pillow already occupied beneath the head of one Danny Phantom. Fenton groaned and slammed the door shut behind him. Phantom, his one-time other half, full time nuisance, looked up from the space magazine he had stolen from Fenton’s desk.

“What are you doing here?” Fenton demanded. “I thought we agreed this is my room?”

“Your room,” Phantom agreed easily. He looked back down at the magazine. “Tucker said you were turned down by one of the girls at your school. I thought I would visit you, make sure you’re okay, but now I can see you just need to be kept from moping.”

Fenton glared at him, but Phantom pretended to be engrossed in the magazine and thus blind to Fenton’s irritation. Fenton scowled and tried a different tact. “Did Tucker also say why she turned me down?”

“No. He wouldn’t even tell me who she was. Who was it?”

Fenton crossed his arms and scowled at his computer desk. That was at least one embarrassment Tucker had saved him from, not that it would do much good. Phantom would find out eventually. “Because she didn’t want me, she wants you.”

Phantom snorted. “Well, that narrows it down to just about everybody.”

Fenton forced a harsh laugh. “Wow, hey! Just rub it in! I needed a little humility today, thank you.”

Phantom sighed and finally lowered the magazine, laying it down on his chest. “This is not my fault, stop trying to pick a fight with me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes! It is! Just!” Fenton uncrossed his arms and gestured both hands at Phantom. “Look at you!”

It just wasn't fair. From the casual curl of his spectral tail to the broad shoulders beneath a skin-tight jumpsuit to the effortless way his white hair had, at some point, artfully framed his eyes, his face, Phantom looked…hot, even to Fenton. If Fenton took a picture of him right now, the other kids would kill him for it.

“And you’re not even trying,” Fenton finished, groaning the words. “It’s so unfair.” Phantom cocked his head to the side. His white hair slid across his forehead, causing Fenton’s fingers to twitch. He snapped, “Stop that!”

Phantom lifted an eyebrow and his smile quirked at one corner. “I’m not doing anything.”

He even made laughing at Fenton look attractive.

Fenton crossed his arms again. “That just makes it worse. We’re supposed to be reflections of each other, why are you so much more…” He trailed off, searching for the word he wanted.

“Attractive?” Phantom suggested smugly. He sighed then and shrugged his shoulders. “I doubt it’s me. Humans just seem to have some sort of draw to ghosts, I think.”

“It’s you,” Fenton mumbled, refusing to look at him. “Trust me, it’s you.”

Phantom considered that, the words hanging in the silence between them for several long seconds. He morphed his tail into legs and sat up on the bed. He tossed the magazine onto Fenton’s nightstand. “Perhaps I can give you some advice?”

Fenton snorted. “What good is advice going to do?”

“It might help. Come on, sit down.” Phantom crisscrossed his legs under himself and patted the mattress invitingly.

Fenton warily eyed the sheets in front of Phantom. “She already turned me down,” he said. “It’s a little late for advice.”

“Fenton,” Phantom groaned, “stop being shy and get over here.”

Fenton blushed. “I’m not being shy!” He stomped toward the bed to prove it. “I just think this is pointless!” He flopped onto the mattress and crisscrossed his legs under himself, mirroring Phantom as they faced each other. “What do you know about romance anyway? You haven’t dated anyone, have you?”

Phantom only smiled knowingly. An “I won’t answer because it’s more fun to keep you guessing” smile.

Fenton grumbled under his breath and hunched his shoulders.

“That,” Phantom said as he grabbed one of Fenton’s shoulders, “is the first thing to go.” He pushed back on Fenton’s shoulder. “Sit up straight.”

“What does it matter?” Fenton whined even as he forced himself to straighten his back. “You’re the only one here.”

“Thanks for that,” Phantom said dryly. He shook his head. “It’s a matter of habit, Fenton. The more you do it, the more natural it will feel. It’s an easy fix that is healthier and more attractive. You will look more confident. Confidence is key.”

Fenton blew out a breath and nodded. “Yeah. Okay, okay. I guess yours is always straight.” He looked at the broad line of Phantom’s shoulders and then away again. “What else?”

Phantom moved his hand from Fenton’s shoulder to his hair. “This.” Phantom ran his fingers through Fenton’s hair, and Fenton fought back a reflexive shiver.

“It’s not that different from yours,” Fenton complained. “Except that it’s black.”

“Exactly! It’s black.” Phantom pointedly shook his white hair around. “My hair is white, and it glows. It looks soft. It will always only look soft. Yours could look soft if you fluff it up more, run your fingers through it, make it look inviting, or you can smooth it out and make it shine.” Phantom paused. His fingers tugged a little on Fenton’s hair, and Fenton bowed his head a little to accommodate him. “It’s already trying to shine a little. It could look really pretty…”

“Thanks,” Fenton said, somewhat absently. He wasn’t really interested in fixing up his hair. “There’s no way I can compete with your perfect hair, though.”

“We are not competing.”

Fenton snorted. “That’s a relief.” He looked down at his ankles, tugging on the rim of his sock. “I would hate to keep losing to you all the time.”

Phantom sighed. “Have you considered, perhaps, that she isn’t worth it?”

Fenton pressed his lips together and didn’t reply.

“What was your approach?”

Fenton glanced up. “What?”

“How did you ask her out?”

Fenton shrugged. “I just…did?” Phantom’s fingers moved through his hair again, brushing across his scalp. It felt good. A little too good. Fenton moved his head back and Phantom’s hand fell away. “Does it matter?”

“It can.” Phantom untucked one leg and braced his elbow on his raised knee. Fenton cursed him in his head because of course Phantom would find a way to look attractive just by sitting. “Everyone has barriers to their heart. There are a couple ways for them to lower those barriers. The first and easiest is through attraction. If they’re attracted to you, that’s one barrier down, and they’re more likely to give you a chance.”

Fenton snorted and turned his head away.

Phantom’s fingers touched Fenton’s chin and turned his head back to face him. “You are hotter than you realize, Fenton. You just need confidence.”

Phantom’s fingers were lingering on his chin, so Fenton lowered his eyes instead, looking down and to the side.

“This is how many at your school have tried to catch my attention,” Phantom continued. “Especially Paulina. They think if I find them attractive, I will seek them out, but there are so many trying to catch me, my barriers have to be stronger than that. If it was Paulina you asked out…she would be the same. Was it…?”

Fenton kept staring off to the side and didn’t answer.

Phantom blew out a breath. His fingers finally left Fenton’s chin. “Well. If it were me, I would require more than attraction. Friendship is a suitable way to test waters because few people are willing to lower their defenses to strangers. Just understand a friendship is very different from a relationship and you can’t simply trade one for the other. You might even find you don’t like her as a girlfriend once you know her as a friend.”

“And after all that?” Fenton looked at his other half again. “What about that approach thing?”

Phantom made a face but shrugged. “It’s sort of the same concept. You want her to feel comfortable when you ask. You want her to want you when you ask. Whoever she is, if you just ask her in front of others, she’s going to be embarrassed and on guard. Your best bet is to wait until you’re alone, create an intimate atmosphere, and then propose a date.”

“What?” Fenton smiled crookedly. “Like invite her to my room, sit on the bed with her, and talk about romantic things?”

Phantom caught his reference and widened his eyes. He glanced around, seeming to notice for the first time that the sun was setting, that they were arm’s length apart, that the room was almost perfectly silent. He laughed easily, though, and reflected Fenton’s crooked smile. “I guess so. Give it a shot, then.”

Fenton’s smile faded. “What?”

“Pretend I’m the girl you wanted to ask out.”

Fenton frowned and leaned back. “No.”

Phantom’s crooked smile gained a sharper, mocking edge. “Shy, Fenton?”

“No!”

“Do you need me to show you how?”

Fenton’s cheeks burned and he glared at Phantom. “My ‘barriers’ just shot up and gained steel reinforcements.”

Phantom snickered a moment before shaking his head. “I can lower them again.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I can.”

“Nope.”

Phantom’s smile spread into a wide grin. “Alright. Watch me then.”

He slid his leg out, untucking it from underneath him, and pushed himself onto his knees. Fenton set his hands on the bed behind him and started to push himself backward, but Phantom was a ghost and much faster. He levitated off the bed and flew toward Fenton. His arms wrapped around Fenton’s shoulders, his legs around his waist, holding him in place. It wasn’t necessary. Fenton had frozen in place the moment he felt Phantom’s weight land on his thighs.

Phantom leaned into him and pressed their cheeks together, lips sliding toward Fenton’s ear. “Do you wanna go out tonight, Fenton?” he whispered.

Fenton remained frozen in place, his heart leaping into his throat.

Phantom’s shoulders shook where they pressed against Fenton’s, and Fenton stiffened. Right. Phantom was playing with him, like always. Teasing was Phantom’s favorite pastime, he wasn’t actually serious, no matter how intimate it felt to have Phantom in his lap. Fenton pushed his hands between their chests and shoved the ghost backward as hard as he could. Phantom fell onto the bed, laughing and moaning a dramatic lament. His legs were still locked around Fenton’s waist, his butt was still cradled between Fenton’s crossed legs, and Fenton, his face flaming and no doubt redder than it had ever been, began tugging at Phantom’s legs, trying to make him let go. Phantom seemed intent on holding onto him for as long as possible just to make Fenton more flustered.

“Rejected!” Phantom moaned dramatically, one hand pressed against his forehead. “By my own other half! Who will love me if I cannot even love myself?”

“Dude, I hate you so much right now!” Fenton groaned. He gave up on Phantom’s legs and rose onto his own knees above him, inadvertently raising Phantom’s lower half because the stupid ghost wouldn’t let go. “You made your point, let go!”

Phantom grinned up at him, white hair wild, green eyes bright. “What point was that again?”

That you can make my heart stop without even trying, Fenton thought but didn’t say. Would never say.

He groaned and fell onto the bed beside him, forcing Phantom to turn onto his side. They faced each other on the bed, Phantom still snickering. Fenton found something inside him responding to the longing buried deep within. His heart still beat fast, there was a nervous, anxious fluttering sensation in his stomach, but Fenton still reached for Phantom’s face. He had had dreams about cupping Phantom’s cheek before, but under this pretense, he was finally able to do it, sliding fingers toward Phantom’s ear, brushing a few errant strands of perfect white hair aside.

Phantom’s laughter trailed off.

Confidence, Fenton told himself, staring into the green eyes only a few inches away from his own. He said I’m hotter than I realize. I can do this. I want this.

“Fenton?” Phantom asked softly.

Fenton took a deep breath and whispered, “Go out with me?”

Phantom stared at him. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t seem to force a word out. He just stared into Fenton’s eyes, seemingly unable to look away.

Fenton’s confidence…broke. He forced a laugh and lifted his hand from Phantom’s cheek. “What? Did I do it wrong?”

“I…” Bright green light flushed Phantom’s face. “No!” His legs released Fenton’s waist and he began to scoot backward, pulling his left leg out from beneath Fenton’s waist. “No! That was…that was great! I—I don’t know why she turned you down? You seem to have a knack for this.”

Fenton pushed himself onto his elbow to help Phantom pull his leg out. He frowned, though, watching Phantom. He had never seen his other half behave so erratic. He wasn’t even looking at Fenton anymore. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” Phantom finally met Fenton’s eyes and flashed a bright, false grin. “Everything is fine! Why? Are you okay?”

“Ye-yes?” Fenton replied, even more unsure now. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you just got rejected by whoever it was you asked out, and I only came here to find out who it was and make sure you were okay, and if you are then…” Phantom trailed off. He stared at Fenton.

There was a thick, somewhat frantic tension in the air, and Fenton forced a laugh, trying to dispel it. “Dude, you look like you’re having an epiphany or something. Do you need me to call Jazz?”

“No!” Phantom stared at Fenton a moment longer and then looked away, shoving a hand into his hair. “Maybe...?” He shook his head. “I should go. Patrol. And. Stuff.”

“Okay,” Fenton said, still hesitant. “Will you come back? Later, I mean. Maybe if I told you who it was you can tell me where I went wrong.”

Phantom’s jaw clenched. “Yes. Maybe. Or maybe you shouldn’t tell me. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Why not?”

Phantom looked at him helplessly for a moment before shaking his head. “I might want to beat her up.”

Fenton snorted. “What, defend my honor after it was crushed?”

“Something like that.” Phantom laughed and ducked his head. “Or maybe just so I can feel sorry for myself.”

“Why? You’re the one she wants.”

“Well.” Phantom shrugged. He floated off the bed, his legs forming into a spectral tail. “That isn’t going to happen. Ever.”

Fenton sighed and fell off his elbow, landing on his back. “Thanks for that, I guess, but you don’t even know who she is yet. You might already like her.”

“I don’t like…” Phantom coughed. “I-I don’t like anyone.”

“Oh.” Fenton stared up at the ceiling. “That’s good to know.”

“Yeah…” A few seconds of silence passed between them before Phantom abruptly said, “Bye, Fenton,” and flew from the room.

Fenton waited a minute to make sure he was gone before he rolled over onto his stomach and screamed into the mattress.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #pitch pearl #mutual pining #I realized I hadn't posted anything in a while so here's a quick thing I wrote for a friend on the discord server #fanfiction #writing trance

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janeofcakes · 3 years

Text

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again Chapter 7

Happy Friday, my friends! I'm so sorry for making you all wait so long. It has been a busy week with lots of travel and time with the kids. Parts of me are SO sunburned. Haha! I hope all of you are having as much fun.

This chapter is shorter than some of the others, but it's a good one and I think you'll agree that it moves things in a positive direction. Let me know what you think at the end!

---

The fresh produce aisle at Tesco is far too busy for three o’clock on a Thursday afternoon. John Watson inches his way in between two older women to grab some apples with a minimum of dirty looks. Once he extracts himself again, he glances down the way and debates on how he’s going to get his hands on some oranges. After a moment of seriously considering bananas instead, a hole clears out in front of the display and he hurries to it. John just slips in before a woman speaking loudly on her mobile can take the spot and she glares at him all the while until John has his bag of oranges. He knows her type - can’t be bothered to wait for anyone else or show any consideration - so he makes sure to take his time and gives her a false friendly grin as he turns to walk away.

John heads to dairy and the refrigerated sections for milk, cheese, yogurt and eggs. He takes a jaunt through frozen foods and catches the bread before starting down the coffee and tea aisle. Plucking two of his favorite kinds of tea off the shelf, he makes his way to the coffee. How he and Gracie managed to run out of so many things at once, he has no idea.

The coffee section is as ridiculously full as fruit and veg was, so John waits off to the side a minute or two until it clears out. His eyes are scanning the shelves for his brand when the corner of a basket pokes him in the side. When he turns his head, he is greeted by the face of the loud woman from before. John can’t stop the frown on his face and she must remember him too because she gives him a sour expression before turning her back on him. John turns back to the coffee and tries to tune out her noisy complaints to the poor bastard on the line.

John just has the coffee he wants in his hand when a basket shoves up against his back again. The woman’s shrill voice still in his ear, John rounds on her with every intention of putting her in her place. He has dealt with more than his fair share of pompous idiots over the years and will not put up with it in bloody Tesco.

“Do you mind?” John demands, every inch of him exuding Captain Watson, but he stops before saying anything more. The rude woman is a good six feet away and heading up the aisle, nearly shouting into her mobile. It couldn’t have been she who bumped into him. To John’s surprise, directly in front of him and holding the offending basket is Greg Lestrade. John blinks once, a movement mirrored on Greg’s face as they stare with slackened jaws.

“John? John Watson?” a grin blooms on Greg’s face in an instant. He moves his basket aside and offers his hand, which John shakes without hesitation. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello, Greg,” John greets warmly. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

“It’s been bloody years,” Greg exclaims as he shifts right to let a shopper pass by. “How have you been?”

“Well, bit of a rough start, but good. Very good,” John tells him, angling left for a passerby.

“Glad to hear it,” Greg remarks with a nod.

“What about you?” John asks before Greg has the chance to continue. “I heard you got a promotion, Chief Detective Inspector.”

“I did at that,” Greg laughs good-naturedly. “I don’t get out into the field quite as much. Paperwork’s a bitch, but it gives me time to take a day off for shopping. It’s good for my DIs to muddle through on their own every once in a while.”

Greg pauses a moment to let a woman with a pram pass and John mirrors his motions. The aisle seems twice as full as when John set foot in it.

“And you?” Greg asks when they have a bit of room again. “You’re back for good?”

“I am,” John puffs up his chest, genuinely pleased. He had wanted to move back to London as soon as Mary left. “Sort of inherited a practice from an old friend, so here we are. My little girl and I. Gracie. She’s eight now.”

“Fantastic. You’ve settled in and all? Been here a little while then?”

Before John can answer Greg, an irritable man pushes past them and they both find themselves a little off balance and cursing.

“Bloody hell,” John says loudly as the bloke hurries on. When he turns back to Greg, the CDI is holding his basket in the space between them to allow more room for people to pass.

“Look, you’re almost finished, yeah?” Greg begins and John nods once. “So am I. No perishables and you can run yours home. We’ll meet for coffee in an hour. D’you know the Division Cafe?”

“I do,” John replies, relieved for the good fortune of Greg’s picking a place he is familiar with. “Sounds great. I’d like to catch up, but what the hell are you going to do for an hour while I drop this lot?”

“Take a leisurely walk to the cafe,” Greg chuckles as they start for the front of the store to cash out. “It’ll give me a chance to check in on the office.”

“Oh no, don’t do that,” John jokes. “No need to spoil your day off. I don’t want to be responsible for that. How will I sleep tonight?”

“All right then,” Greg tells him wryly. “I’ll just tag along with you. We’ll have plenty of time to get back up to speed before we even get there.”

“If you insist,” John is delighted by the suggestion. He has truly missed the CDI over the last ten years and often considered phoning to talk, but never did follow through. Now with Greg in front of him and plenty of time on his hands since Candace is scheduled to watch Gracie after school, he is loath to refuse his friend anything.

“I do insist,” Greg laughs as he places items on the conveyor belt for checkout, “and I’m buying.”

John grins and shrugs.

“Who am I to refuse?”

The next hour passes quickly as they catch a cab to John’s flat and make their way to the cafe. Not a moment is spent in silence. John tells Greg all about Gracie and their flat in Bath. He touches on Mary and Rosie, but quickly jumps ahead to the move back to London. For his part, Greg fills John in on his biggest cases over the years with an emphasis on those that brought about his promotion. By the time they reach Division and sit down with coffees, Greg has just gotten to the cohabitant Sherlock had mentioned in the park. John has the sneaking suspicion that Greg wanted to wait until he was sitting down before mentioning it, so it should be pretty good.

“I heard you were with someone,” John sips from his mug. “Anyone I know from the old days?”

“Uh, yeah,” Greg answers, running his hand up the back of his own neck and wearing a sheepish smile. “Mycroft Holmes.”

“What?” John’s eyes are wide. His lips remain parted in disbelief as the right corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smirk. Greg shrugs in affirmation. “Now that I did not expect.”

“Five years now. Actually,” Greg hesitates and John can tell he is trying to contain a really brilliant smile, “I asked him to marry me only last Sunday.”

“Oh my god. Congratulations,” John declares. “Greg, that’s fantastic news! Tell me, has he mellowed over the years?”

“He has, actually,” Greg answers, reigning in his laughter. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks John over with trepidation in his eyes. His friend eyes him quizzically from behind his mug. Decision made, the CDI picks up his own cup and brings it to his mouth as he says: “Being a doting uncle helps too.”

John swallows and places his coffee cup on the table between them. His brows arch briefly before falling again.

“It’s hard to imagine,” John says ruefully, not meeting Greg’s knowing gaze.

“No more than his baby brother having a child,” he remarks easily, watching John closely. The doctor shoots him a sharp look and chuckles under his breath as he leans back in his seat. With a sardonic smile, John looks down at where his hands rest on the table with his fingers wrapped around the mug of dark liquid.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” John mutters. He raises his eyes to his friend’s face to see Greg’s lips turned up on one side in a crooked and very amused smirk. John doesn’t say a word, giving him ample time to explain.

“Is it?” is all Greg says, his smirk growing more satisfied. John huffs a quick laugh and shakes his head slightly. Straightening up in his seat and leaning his elbows on the table, John fixes Greg with an incredulous face.

“Come on,” he begins and is unable to keep the touch of a plea from his tone. “You can’t say something like that and not fill in the blanks.”

“What? He didn’t tell you?” Greg replies coyly, turning his cup on the table and picking it up by the handle.

“You damn well know he didn’t,” John huffs again. “We ran into each other at the bloody park after ten years of not speaking.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is that?” Greg mutters grimly.

John stills instantly, lips parted with words that die on his tongue. Greg doesn’t look angry exactly, but he certainly isn’t pleased. Of all the people John expected to hold onto any animosity toward him, Greg Lestrade wasn’t even on the list.

John takes a shaky breath and closes his mouth. How can he even explain? It doesn’t even make sense in his own mind anymore. He swallows audibly, the very beginnings of sweat blooming at his temples. Greg is asking him to do what Sherlock could have in the park. What he still could, but probably never will. Not the Sherlock John knows.

“Mary was done,” John’s voice is choked and quiet. “With London and the surgery, but most of all with Sherlock. Revealing her secrets to me was the last nail in the coffin.”

“Funny you should say that,” Greg leans forward, his eyes ablaze and his voice low. “She shot him, John. She killed him. Stubborn bastard brought himself back from the dead and for what? His best friend to run off with his killer.”

“She was my wife,” John croaks barely above a whisper. “She was carrying my child.”

“You were married for all of two months,” Greg’s brown eyes are hard and bore into John’s very being like a hot poker. “She was a liar from the beginning.”

Greg clenches his teeth as if to stop himself from saying something and John has no doubt the words would cut him to the core. The muscles beneath the skin stretched across Greg’s jaw work constantly as he struggles to keep his cool in the crowded cafe. He sits back ever so slightly, pulling his elbows closer to the edge of the table, his intense gaze pinning John to his seat.

“When she left you,” Greg growls, trying to keep his voice even, “you could’ve called him. Hell, you could’ve done it before that. You knew where he was. You knew his number. He had no idea where you were and it nearly destroyed him.”

Silence hangs heavily in the air between them, even with the noise of the milk steamer and patrons all around. As much as John wants to look away in shame, he cannot break away from his friend’s furious glare. The source of Greg’s ire is suddenly crystal clear. Sherlock may have refused to hear Mycroft’s news of John’s life over the years, but Greg obviously hadn’t and it fueled his anger as time went on. John clears his throat, wincing at the sting of its sudden dryness.

“He started using again?” John’s heart sinks to his feet as he asks it. He had hoped against hope that Sherlock wouldn’t fall into oblivion without him. Greg lets out a mirthless laugh.

“No, he didn’t bloody use,” the words are a sneer and his lips curl. “But he was miserable. He disappeared into the flat for months and looked like hell when he resurfaced. He worked cases, but he was on auto-pilot until he met Jessie.”

“Jessie?” John asks, desperately curious. This, this is what he wants most to know. Olive’s mother. Sherlock’s wife? Where is she? Who is she? How did they meet? John has a thousand questions and now he knows for certain that Greg holds all of the answers. John need only ask, or so he thinks.

“No,” the CDI shakes his head and leans all the way back in his chair. He chews on his lip and puffs out an angry breath. “If you want to know, you’ll have to ask him. I’ll be damned if I give you an easy out.”

“You’re right,” John breathes out his shame in a sigh. “Anything I want to know should come from him.”

He raises his troubled eyes to Greg’s face and sees some of the anger on it has dissipated in favor of irritated approval. John straightens his spine and scrubs his hands through his short, silver-blonde hair. Pressing his lips in on each other, he inhales deeply and shakes his head.

“God, how I failed him, Greg,” John murmurs. Words he has thought often and never actually uttered. “I was so tired and felt betrayed and he kept saying I should stay with Mary. That I should forgive her because she’d actually saved his life by shooting him. It’s such bullshit.”

“He wanted you to keep her close for Rosie’s sake,” Greg tells him. His eyes are softer than they have been since they walked in the coffee shop. “And for yours. He knew you would never live in 221B again, but you and Rosie were worth it. I don’t think he realized Mary would convince you to leave.”

“Her final revenge,” John mutters angrily as Greg sighs.

“Just...don’t make the same mistakes twice, John. Don’t shut him out,” Greg advises sagely, finally raising his coffee cup to his lips again and taking a quick sip. “Olive says she and Gracie want to have a playdate at the flat, but you’re holding them up.”

John watches Greg uneasily. Memories of 221B start skipping through his mind and with them, feelings he has left buried for ten years. John shakes them away and wraps his hands around his own mug.

“I don’t know if I can go back there,” John says.

“It won’t be easy,” Greg tells him, placing his cup on the table. He leans in and fixes John with a very serious gaze. “Stop running, John.”

With those three words, John’s mind clears. The simplicity of it is stunning and utterly heartbreaking. How many years would he and Sherlock have been friends again if John had just faced his fears, accepted responsibility for his mistakes and reached out to the detective? What the hell had happened to him and when had he let go of Captain Watson? John had lost half of himself all these years and never seemed to take notice. Sure, he had thought that Sherlock didn’t care anymore, even after Rosie died, but when had the man’s moods ever stopped him from horning in before? He punched him in the face as a cover, fucking wrestled him to the ground because he was angry with the git. He tried to comfort Sherlock when he thought he was in love with Irene Adler, for Christ sake. John Watson...always by his side and ready to kick the shit out of anyone who would touch him.

Filled with a new resolve, John squares his shoulders and meets Greg’s eyes. His own are determined and set, the decision made. He will accept Sherlock’s invitation and take Gracie to his old home. Maybe he’ll even invite himself in for tea and see if the man who was once his best friend will allow him back into his life. Maybe Sherlock will let him try to repair their friendship. God, John hopes so.

---

All I can say is Greg Motherfucking Lestrade, the dark horse in this story. Hell, yeah!

Thank you so much for all the love and support. I definitely wouldn't be here without all of you! Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock fanfic #sherlock loves john #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #John loves Sherlock #Mystrade

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Another One?

Feel in love with this idea and want to thank @chocolate1721 for letting me write it :D

Hope you enjoy it <3

------

P.Taglist: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

Tags: @thestressmademedoit @purplejade24 @dreamykitty25 @mer-mel @maribat-is-lifeblood

------

Heads up: Lian makes an appearance :D

-----

AO3

-----

“I’m being serious Bruce.” Tim said, rubbing his temples. “There’s a five-year old girl in the Batcave, right now, and I need to know where the hell you grabbed her from.”

“Tim,” Bruce softly said, placing his hands onto Tim’s shoulders. “When was the last time you took a break?”

He sure didn’t take another child in. After all, he would’ve remembered signing adoption papers.

With a scoff, Tim pushed Bruce’s hands away from him.

“I’m not hallucinating.”

Tim knew he wasn’t. He literally spent a whole half hour speaking to this child, finding out that she had magically teleported specifically to the Batcave, landing on his lap. He learned that her name was Marinette and that she was from Paris. Pa-ris!

“Sure you weren’t.” Jason said with a roll of his eyes. “So the coffee fairy from last week was totally real, wasn’t it?” Tim groaned, pulling his hands down his face.

“Why don’t you take a nap, Tim.” Dick suggested, guiding Tim to the library. “I’ll take-”

Small heavy footsteps caused the four men to turn towards the direction they heard them, seeing a fuming Damian sport a scowl, something being held away from him in disgust.

“Why is this small child in the Batcave and why is she playing with Batcow?” Damian roared, stomping a bit as he made his way to Bruce, a five year old girl hanging from his hand.

“Damian! That’s no way to hold her!” Dick scolded, taking the small child from Damian, cradling her in his arms, realizing that Tim was right.

There was another child in the manor.

“Father,” Damian snarled, Bruce taking a step back. “Did you take in another lion minion?”

Did he? He never remembered bringing in another child, nonetheless this beautiful tiny child that could easily pass for another one of his- was this becoming a problem?

“Damian, there has to be-”

“What made you believe that you needed another one?” Jabbing a finger to himself, Damian continued. “I am better than all of your other minions combined. I am enough. You. Do. Not. Need. Another.” Damian emphasized, letting out a growl.

“Seems like someone feels threatened.” Jason grinned, watching Damian point his katana towards him.

“Am. Not.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Damian, katana down. Now.” Bruce said sternly, waiting for him to put the weapon down.

“Not until he puts that sentence back into his mouth.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, watching as Jason kept taunting Damian, noticing that Tim was nowhere to be found and Dick was busy talking to the child, watching as her smile caused something to blossom inside of him.

He really hopes he did indeed adopt his ray of sunshine.

Walking past his bickering boys, who now are at each other’s throats, Bruce crouched down to the girl’s level, observing her features. He knew he said it once, but upon seeing her up close, Bruce really felt like he could easily pass this child as his newest addition to his family.

“Mari, this is Bruce. He’s my father, along with the other guys’ as well.” Dick introduced, Bruce noticing that Dick was speaking in French.

“Hello Mari. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bruce spoke, hoping his French was understandable. “Like my son Richard said, my name is Bruce. Bruce Wayne. What is yours?”

“Hello Monsieur.” Marinette spoke, fidgeting with the ends of her pigtail braids. “I’m Marinette.” Bruce watched as she frowned, lowering her head a bit. “I’m sorry about playing with your cow. I won’t do it again. It’s just that-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bruce said, patting her head, feeling his mouth curve even more when she giggled. “You can play with her any time.” Bruce assured, ignoring Damian’s protest.

“So when did you adopt another child? Usually I would be the first one to know.” Alfred spoke up, Bruce wondering why everyone thought he actually adopted another child.

“She’s not,” a sigh. “I didn’t bring her. I didn’t know she was even in the manor. Tim had found her -not sure how- but he di-”

A growl interrupted Bruce’s explanation, the three adults turning to see a flushed Marinette.

“Why don’t we get something for Miss Marinette while we discuss how you-”

“I didn’t adopt another child Alfred.”

------

After munching on cookies and happily sipping milk, Marinette looked at everyone with sad eyes, pursing her lips.

“What’s wrong, Nettie?” Dick asked, Bruce thanking him for being the one to ask.

“I need to head home. Monsieur Fu is probably worried about me.”

“If that’s the case, allow me to take you-” Bruce started, stopping when Marinette shook her head.

Did she not want him to drop her off? Did she prefer Dick or Alfred? Did she not like him? What did he do wrong?

“No thank you. I can go by myself.” With a grin and hopping off the kitchen counter, Marinette bowed. “Thank you very much for the cookies Grandpere Alfred.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

With that, Marinette walked out the kitchen, a bright light seeping through the cracks of the door before it disappeared, everyone blinking at her disappearance before returning to eating the leftover cookies.

“Wonder if she got home safely.” Dick murmured, wondering how a child of her age got hold of a magical item that allowed her to teleport herself back home.

Bruce could only ponder, knowing that if he tried to search for answers, he wouldn’t rest until he found one. Although, something told him that he shouldn’t, allowing him to push the magical factors of this encounter to the back of his mind.

He only hoped to see the child again…

-----

And they all did, exactly a week later.

The boys were busy teasing Dick as he prepared for his date with Starfire, leaving Bruce and Alfred in the library. Bruce was finishing up his latest paperwork when shrieks and screams came from down the hall.

Forgetting his papers, Bruce marched down to find out what was going on, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

Damian was hiding behind Tim, Tim holding a clothing hanger as a weapon while Jason was fumbling to put his gun away. Meanwhile, Dick was on the floor, his suit wrinkled and his hair was out of its desired style. There, in front of him was Mari, her tongue sticking out as she adjusted Dick’s tie. She placed her hands on her waist once she finished adjusting the tie.

“See? Told you your tie was crooked.” Marinette grinned, finally realizing that Bruce and Alfred were at the doorway. “Grandpere Alfred! M. Bruce!” Marinette made her way to the older men, hugging the two of them.

“Marinette. What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, picking up the child. She was as light as a feather and was thin as one as well… did she not eat properly?

“I came to visit!” Marinette proclaimed, throwing her hands into the air, the Waynes knowing that this was the first to many visits of the tiny fairy.

-----

“Did you have to bring Lian with you?” Jason asked, eyeing the five year old girl who was currently running around the shop, Roy not moving a muscle as he finished up some final touches on the passenger seat he was working on.

“Her nanny needed the day off and I didn’t feel like looking for another one so I brought her with me.” Roy reasoned. “Also, I did promise her that we would go get some ice cream after this.”

Jason shook his head, smiling that Roy would forever have a soft spot for his daughter.

Taking the finished seat, Jason screwed it on, Roy hopping onto the finished bike to test it out.

As Jason put away some of the tools, he heard a crash, turning to see Roy and the bike on its side, Lian standing in front of Roy.

“Roy! We just-”

“Did Richard have a child around the same time I found out about Lian?”

“What? No! No, he didn’t.” Jason provided. “Isn’t that Lian that’s-”

“Lian doesn’t have blue eyes, nor navy hair.”

“Jay-Jay, who’s that?” The child asked, pointing to Roy. Roy looked at the mysterious child and then at Jason.

“Pixie?” Jason ran up to Marinette, kneeling to her level. “What are you doing here?”

“I got bored at home so I came here!” Marinette said with a chirp, her pigtails bouncing in unison with her voice. “Let’s play!”

“Pixie, I can’t right now.” Jason looked at Roy, frowning when he saw him recording him and sporting a grin.

“Why not?” Oh shit. There were the magical eyes and tears that Jason couldn’t afford to say no to.

“I-” Jason watched as Lian came into view, the girl blinked when their eyes locked.. “Why don’t you play with Lian? Lian, come meet Marinette.”

As soon as the two saw each other, smiles blossomed onto the two girls, quickly chasing each other around the workshop before disappearing into the manor, their giggles echoing through the halls.

“So she’s your kid?” Roy asked, laughing when Jason elbowed him.

“She’s my sister, you idiot.”

-----

Tim dragged his hands down his face, tilting his head back before facing forward again.

Just a few more minutes and then it’s off to doing the next thing.

He needed to hurry up and finish this stupid workload before the deadline.

After this, maybe he can do a quick patrol around the city before dawn… or at least hoping before dawn… when was the last time he checked the clock?

Fishing for his phone, Tim struggled to make out the large numbers in front of him. Was it a 3 or was it a 4? He couldn’t tell, nor did he care. It was still early. He can make the deadline and the patrol… right?

Become the new CEO, Bruce said. It’s going to be worth it, he said.

Tim doesn’t even remember the last time he stepped out of WE or the manor that wasn’t work related.

Tim reached out for his mug of coffee, taking a sip. But instead of being welcomed by the aroma of freshly made instant coffee, he was hit by the smell of cinnamon, Tim looking down at his mug, realizing that it wasn’t the one he had a few minutes ago.

A tug was soon felt at the sleeve of his sweater, Tim looking to see if it was Titus, knowing that the dog would come to him for late night pats. However, he was met with doe blue eyes.

“Come.” She spoke, pulling at his sweater.

“I need to finish this.”

“Come.” With a sigh, Tim followed her, trying to grab his things, but she didn’t let him.

She continued to drag him until they got to her room, Tim wondering how long they even had this room in the manor. He didn’t remember them having another sibling, nonetheless a girl.

He was guided into the small bed, having to curl himself a bit to fit. A mistake he would greatly regret.

He was now curled into a comfortable position, still feeling warm from the cinnamon tea and having a heavy blanket on top of him wasn’t helping. He didn’t know how -nor did he want to know how- but he soon drifted into sleep, vaguely remembering seeing the child also climb into bed, making sure Tim went to sleep.

Tim stirred, quickly sitting up when he felt pairs of eyes on him, grabbing a nearby book to throw, only to find everyone in the room, either grinning like madmen or sporting a smile.

“What?”

“You’re finally away Master Tim.”

“Finally?”

“It’s three in the afternoon.” Jason said, patting someone’s head, Tim noticing that it was the small child from last night. “Why are you looking at Pixie like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You can see her?”

“What?”

Tim looked at everyone before placing a hand at his head.

“I thought she was just a hallucination.” Tim admitted.

“Tim, where have you been for the last two months?”

------

Everyone tried to catch up with each other as they made their way to their seats, Diana and Clark attempting to discuss their latest missions, Barry and Cyborg trying to talk about their latest interest, but everyone knew it was futile.

Rumors spread fast and everyone wanted to know the truth.

Did Batman really adopt another child? Did he have another ward?

Yes, they’ve seen the video that Roy sent everyone, but showing Jason softly speak to a girl that looked identical to Lian wasn’t going to cut it.

They wanted proof. Solid. Evidence.

Everyone went quiet when they saw Batman already seated, awaiting for everyone to join him.

“I thank you all for coming here.” Batman started, getting up from his seat, seeing that Aquaman and even Zatanna were able to make it. “I want to start with asking everyone to- what’s going on?”

Only two minutes into the meeting and he already lost everyone. As subtle as they tried to be, Batman could see various phones peeking over the meeting table.

“Say Batman,” Hal decided to start, using himself as tribute. “Already introducing your new ward to the business?”

Everyone watched as Batman stiffened, watching as he began to slightly panic, looking to his sides until he saw the person everyone else had seen, but him.

There stood Marinette, using his cape to try and hide herself.

He quickly got up and took the child, guiding her to the farthest corner of the room, away from prying ears (all but Clark’s that is).

“Marinette, what are you doing here?” Bruce asked, taking her hands into his, being reminded how small she was.

“I went to the manor, but no one was home, not even Grandpere Alfred so I decided to join you.” Marinette said, rubbing her eyes as she let out a yawn.

“What time is it in Paris?”

“Last time I checked it was 19:00.” Marinette said, another yawn being let out.

“Past your bedtime.” Bruce stated, scooping up the child. “Go ahead and take a nap. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” Marinette modded, resting her head against his shoulder.

Batman continued the meeting without batting an eye, everyone wondering how he wasn’t getting tired from holding the little girl and where he even managed to find her.

They couldn’t focus on the meeting, their eyes on the small child that drooled on Batman, her sudden smiles distracting them.

Where did he even find her?

Then again, this was Batman. If he wanted something, he made it his goal to get it. Even if it meant having a new ward that was the epitome of pureness.

——-

Daiman frowned as he threw another stick for Titus to fetch, trying to push down his anger.

“Marinette this, Marinette that. Pixie Pop did this and Nettie did that!” Damian yelled, grabbing the stick Titus had brought back.

“Why are they so enthralled by that little lion minion?” Damian huffed, watching as Titus happily chased after the stick.

“She can’t do anything but lighten up the manor with her stupid giggles.”

Ever since Dupain-Cheng barged into the manor, everyone has been baby-proofing the manor, Bruce and Jason making sure to tightly secure the locks to the weaponry and vehicles. Alfred always had cookies at the ready (though Damian didn’t mind) while Richard made sure to have more toys and coloring books stocked up whenever Marinette would drop in.

It didn’t help that whenever Damian would join his father to the Watch Tower that people deflated to see him there, hearing the whispers that asked when Marinette was coming back.

Attempting to forget about it all, and focus on Titus, Damian frowned upon seeing his beloved dog holding the one behind his annoyance.

Holding her by the collar of her shirt, Titus had brought his owner Marinette. She was in the garden by herself, so Titus thought he should bring her to Damian.

After all, two humans means more hands that would pet him and shower him for being a ‘good boy.’

“What are you doing here Dupain-Cheng?” Damian asked, telling Titus to drop her.

“I made a flower crown for you.” Marinette said, offering him the object, ignoring Damian’s question which caused him to snarl.

“I don’t want your stupid crown.” Damian said through gritted teeth, throwing the crown to the floor, freezing when he saw tears slip down her face.

“Why don’t you like me?” Marinette asked, looking at Damian with glazed eyes.

Why didn’t he like her?

No, he didn’t like her, but he also didn’t hate her.

He just found her annoying, a pest, just like the rest of his siblings.

Siblings…

Damian looked at the tiny girl, crouching to help her wipe her tears.

“It’s not that I don’t like you.” Damian admitted, grabbing her hand as he rose. “I’m just getting used to having another sibling.”

Another sibling.

That’s why Damian was annoyed.

He was no longer the new addition, she was.

She was the center of attention, just like he was when he had first come to the manor.

Now it was his turn to help her get adjusted to the manor, although it seems like she was already adjusted to their lifestyle. It was him who needed to change,

“So you don’t hate me?” Damian shook his head, watching Mari give him a small smile. “Then… are we friends?”

“No.” He said, quickly regretting it as he saw her smile drop. “We’re family.” Her smile returned, twice as big, a giggle even escaping her.

They were family now, whether he liked it or not. Whether she was directly adopted or not.

She was another Wayne, whether everyone liked it or not.

Damian, for one, didn’t mind.

He had a sister now, someone to teach. Possibly his own student.

“Come now Mari, I think Alfred had made some cookies earlier.”

Another one who he can happily say was his family.

#maribat #maribat batfam #maribat little!marinette dupain-cheng #anju writes #damian acts like a child

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savagetrickster · 4 years

Text

Nothing Like You.

BNHA | Kaminari Denki x Reader

(soft NSFW headcanons)

Themes/warnings: 18+. aged-up, soft sex, suggested breeding kink (are you even surprise? Lol)

It has been three years since they graduated and became official alumni students of UAE. Along the way, their friendship advanced to something more intimate in their second year.

What started as mere students from Class 1A, they grew and rose up the hierarchy as Pro-Heroes with their own agencies.

As Pro-Heroes, they were always busy. There was too much to do - patrols, publicity of their agencies, active fights against the wrongdoings of criminals lurking around the alleys.

Time together was little, even when they were living together. They were out like lights the moment their heads hit their pillows. Being a Pro-Hero was no breeze afterall.

(Name) could practically feel her exhaustion weighing down on her. So after much persuasion from her subordinates and nagging from Kaminari, she decided to give in and take two days off from her own agency, leaving it to her subordinates who promised to look after it.

On the second day of her little break, she sat in the living room and realized how much she had missed Kaminari in every single way.

Particularly starving for his touch. She made sure she wore no panties or bra when she left home. The oversized pullover was enough to cover all the necessary parts.

So she decided to visit him at his agency. And she found him in his office, eyes glued to his computer screen. Too engrossed into some wordy document to notice her.

In one move, she slid her arms around his neck and down to his chiseled chest with her breasts pressed flushed against his broad back, pressing a lingering kiss on the side of his neck.

Kaminari jolted in surprise. But when he realized who it was, his face brightened instantly. “Hey babe, what you doing here?”

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sorry babe, how about we do that during lunch? It’s almost time anyway.”

“This is important, Denki.” She turned on the puppy eyes she always used on him, “Please, baby?”

And it always worked. “Alright,” Kaminari smiled in resignation. “Anything for you, babygirl. I’m listening, what is it?”

“Not here, babe.” She could feel eyes peering through the glass wall separating his office and the rest of the building. “Follow me.” Her hand wrapped around his wrist, convincing him to leave his chair with a tug.

Kaminari obliged and stood, his other hand instantly finding its spot on her waist as she tugged him to his hidden room where he napped when he needed it.

“So what is it, babe-” Kaminari said the moment they entered the closet, with a puzzled look on his face.

“I love you, Denki.” She was suddenly all over him, her arms around his neck.”Oh, I miss you so so much.” Her lips pressed onto his needily.

A shuddering breath escaped him at his surprise, but he quickly responded. Head tilted, he pried his tongue into her lips with a soft groan.

As though her lips were a spark, a heated need erupted in his chest. Something that he had ignored and neglected for a long time due to his occupation.

He had missed this.

One hand wrapped around her waist, another wandered down her dress and found its fingers already in the wet heat of her cunt.

Another shuddering breath left him as he broke their kiss at how accessible she was. A smirk curled his lips as he peered down to realize she wore nothing under the pullover.

“Naughty girl.”

When he looked back up at her, he was met with a wavering gaze. The vulnerability and love in her eyes softened the look on his face.

“I’ve really missed you so much, Denki, I just hate that we don’t have time for each other anymore. I know it’s not really appropriate now, but can we make…” Her eyes averted bashfully, ”...love now?”

He felt his heart clench with a sweet squeeze, enough to make him breathless. “Of course.” His answer was barely above a whisper as his arms slid under her, hooking her thighs over the crook of his elbows.

The heat that filled him was not his usual wild, lusty one that triggered him into his dominating urge that only wanted raunchy sex with her.

Instead of the hormones who drove his instinct, it was his heart - a heart full of his love for her that pushed him carry her to the sofa bed and put her down as if she was fragile.

“I love you too, babe, I really do.” His eyes never left hers, tender and warm as he took a step back to unbuckle the belt holding his pants.

Kaminari stepped out of his pants pooled around his feet, heading right for her. His lips met hers in a soft, chaste kiss as he situated himself between the legs she readily spread open for him.

Their warm breath mingled as their heads tilted to their sensually swirling tongues. Their movements careful and soft as their kiss grew stronger, murmurs of ‘I love you’ humming against each others’ lips.

His hands wandered down her body, caressing her as he tugged the pullover up and over her head. Their lips were back on each other again as soon as she was freed of the article, her bare body now laid under his.

Her perky breasts rippled with goosebumps as his hands found themselves around them, cupped in their big warmth. His thumbs immediately rolling the nipples as soon as he reached them until they couldn’t be more pebbled.

Quiet sighs accompanied the soft jolts as they tingled down to her heating core. Her cunt growing more ready for his stiffening cock as her slick arousal leaked.

His hands were quickly replaced by his mouth which had left her lips. Alternating between them, gentle tugs of her nipples between his teeth were followed by sensual rolls with his tongue and hollowed cheeks as he suckled on them.

His hands eventually made its way to her cunt. His eyes held a satisfied glint as he parted her sopping folds with two fingers and curled them experimentally before pulling them out, noting how her slick fluid had clung onto them and snap as soon as he raised his hand to his mouth to clean them off.

Replacing his fingers, he held his hard cock to her weeping cunt.

His eyes raised to meet her anticipating ones with a loving, serious gaze,

“If you were to fall pregnant because of this, know that I am ready to shoulder this responsibility because I love you, (Name). You’re the only woman I’ll ever see as the mother of my children. No one else is as wonderful and amazing as you. Nobody.”

She nodded her head, her eyes tearing slightly at his words.

“If I were to bear anyone’s children, it’s yours. When I think about my future, it was always you. I trust you would be an excellent partner and father. So I’m not afraid, Denki, not afraid at all.”

Their lips met again as Kaminari leaned forward, sliding himself into her as carefully as he could.

A soft sigh escaped between their moving lips as she marvelled at the fullness inside her.

He began to move with gentle ruts of his hips as their kiss grew with fervor. His quiet groans accompanied with her gasping whimpers as slow fire ignited through their bodies at every thrust.

Pulling away from each others’ lips, his hands flew under her thighs to hold her wider, leaning in to tower over her as the rolls of his hips quickened.

Her whimpers spiked with a curt moan before they fall into cries as his cock delved deeper into her at the shift of their position. Behind weak fluttering blinks, she stared back at the tender, heated gaze prodding back at her.

Her body began to rock faster and faster as Kaminari hissed with quickening thrusts. Sharper and more powerful.

Their groans and cries growing louder as the blazing heat engulfed their bodies. The edge coming closer and closer as his cock hammered with a hasty passion.

Her cries began ending with fleeting gasps as she felt the coming of her release inside her core.

And when it finally did, a moaning sob escaped her as she saw stars behind her eyelids, in the shattering ripples of her release as it came down hard on her.

Kaminari hissed again, a broken grunt accompanying it as he held on, plunging himself in the pouring arousal around his cock for his own release.

“Fu-Fuck babygirl, I-I love you so much I don’t even think what I’m saying is enough.” He spluttered through the building pressure within his cock.

“Shi-Shit.” A final, particularly harsh thrust of his hip forward, he spilled thick, rich ropes of his seeds into her pulsing womb with a tattered groan.

Her sharp moan joined him as she relished in the hot burst inside her. The moan leaving her died as a sigh puffed out of her waveringly at how rapidly he was filling her.

Coming down from their high, their panting lips met again.

#bnha kaminari #kaminari smut #bnha smut #mha kaminari #kaminari x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #anime smut #mha headcanons #kaminari denki #kaminari headcanons

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Text

Day 5: “Thanks for lending me your jacket.” - Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

A/N: Okay I understand Christmas is over but I still had to finish the 12 days of Christmas challenge and I skipped over day five and never came back till today! Here is day five written for my fellow Santi lover @itspdameronthings.

Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Single Mom Reader

Warning: 18 + for language, single mom, kids

My Masterlist

Day 5: "Thanks for lending me your jacket." - Santiago 'Pope' Garcia

The door to the ballet studio slams open, and Frankie hustles inside with his four-year-old daughter Mia in tow. The other moms all smile at him as he shuffles her off to the other children, and she gets in line and starts warm-ups. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and readjusts his hat falling down into the seat next to you.

"What did I miss?" he asks, and you laugh.

"Well, Minnie's mom was talking about how she caught her husband sleeping with the nanny. But, she isn't going to say anything because he had her sign a prenup, and she would get nothing. Oh, and Peter's mom has been talking nonstop about her upcoming surgery. Apparently, you lean toward him conspiratorially, "she is getting some new," you gesture across your chest, and he laughs.

You and Frankie had met six months ago when you both enrolled your daughters in dance class. Being the only single parents and the only ones whose daily life wouldn't be on an episode of Wives of Orange County, you, two, had bonded instantly. You had even been out on a date, but it quickly became apparent you were just meant to be friends. Your daughters had connected instantly and become best friends. Mia and Harper were inseparable.

"What about Tina's mom? Did she get the nose job?" he asks, looking around the room, and you laugh.

"I think so; it's their nanny again," you point over at the strict-looking woman reading a magazine in the corner, and he nods smiling.

"So," he claps a hand over your leg, "Are we still on for the tree lighting thing this weekend? The kids perform at seven, so I thought we could all meet up for dinner at the Brewery down the street like five-fifteen or so."

"Yeah, that sounds great! Harper is so excited about dancing for a crowd, she is turning out to be quite the diva."

"I know what you mean; Mia is the same way! I was wondering...would you mind if Mia's godfather joins us on Saturday? He's in town from Columbia for the holiday and is going to be staying with us. I've been talking about you, and he says he wants to meet his replacement."

"His replacement?"

"Oh, he is fully convinced that I've replaced him with you as my best friend," he chuckles.

You laugh, and both of you get glares from the other dance moms. "That's fine with me. What's he like?"

"Well...how do you describe Pope, well his name is Santiago, but I've been calling him Pope since the Delta Force days. He is loyal, hardworking, and a complete and total slut. I bet you fifty bucks he will flirt with you the whole night."

You snort, "With me?"

"Come on, you're gorgeous. Honestly, you are just his type."

"Yeah, all except for one little issue," you point towards your daughter, who smiles at your brightly as she tries to do a pirouette.

"Oh, that won't deter him at all; he loves Mia. I'm sure Harper will have him wrapped around her finger too by the end of the night." He smiles at you, and you nod.

"Okay, I guess I will have to meet this friend of yours and see if he's worthy of the title." Frankie looks at you, quizzically, "Oh sorry, the title of the best friend, it has to be earned." He laughs, and you both hush as the teacher looks at you both sternly, causing you to erupt in a fit of giggles, Frankie digging his elbow into your side as he covers his smile with his hand.

The week passes quickly, and it's the weekend before you know it. The Brewery's parking lot is packed, and a light dusting of snow lies upon the ground. You pull Harper from her car seat, and she babbles away at you about everything. The change in temperature from the outside to the inside is stifling, and you loosen your scarf, cursing under your breath about forgetting your coat. The red dress beneath it shimmers in the light, complete with black leggings tucked into your black boots.

"HARPER!" a shrill voice screams from across the room. Your daughter takes off across the room and into the arms of Mia, who is jumping up and down. You smile at the two and make your way over to the table, hugging Frankie.

"Where is this so-called best friend of yours?" you tease, moving into the booth across from him.

"Oh, Pope went to the restroom; he should be back in a few minutes. Why? Excited to meet him?" he teases, and you smile.

"No, just curious, I wonder if-" the words die against your lips as you watch the most beautiful man come towards your table. With salt and pepper curls, clean-shaven, soft juicy lips, and the darkest expressive brown eyes that twinkle in amusement wrapped up in a dark tan wrapping.

"Holy shit," you whisper under your breath, but of course, Harper hears.

"Mommy! Swear jar!" she sings, grinning at you, and you glare at her before watching the man slide in the empty chair across from you.

"So this is the famous Y/N that Frankie won't stop talking about. I must say his words do not do you justice; you're stunning," he holds a hand out to shake, and when you touch, the electricity crackles, and you quickly withdraw your hand.

His smile fades, and he just watches you. You could get lost in the depth of his eyes, and Frankie coughs loudly to break the tension. You look away and turn to Harper, figuring out what she wants for dinner. The waiter comes a few minutes later, and you all order. The girls get Mac N cheese and chicken nuggets, knowing them they will end up sharing all the food.

"Uhm, I will take the jalapeno cream cheeseburger with the black bean patty, please, and the House Amber on draft please," the waiter takes your orders and walks off.

You try really hard not to openly stare at Santiago, but he doesn't take notice, never taking his eyes off you. "So, tell me about yourself," you take a sip of your beer and finally look at him, his lips turned up into a wide grin. You spend most of the dinner conversing with Santiago while Frankie keeps the two girls occupied. You don't miss the not so subtle wink he sends your way as you almost choke on your beer.

"Are you okay?" Frankie comes around and pats you hard on the back. "You're flirting," he teases quietly next to your ear, and you hiss at him to shut up, glaring. “You owe me fifty bucks,” he laughs.

He grins triumphantly as he retakes his seat and checks his watch. "Okay, everybody, we got to get going over to the tree lighting. Girls, finish up and get your coats on. "I'll get the bill tonight."

"Frankie! I can pay for myself-"

"I insist," he says, putting a hand to his chest, "come on, girls. Ah, don't look at me like that; you can get the next one." Harper hugs you before grabbing Frankie's outstretched hand and going to pay.

"Are you two dating?" Santiago asks bluntly. "Or fucking?"

You laugh, "Uhm, no, Frankie really just is my best friend. We tried going on a date once, and it was like dating my brother."

He chuckles, "yes, I can imagine that would be awkward. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, are you single?"

"Why do you want to know," you rise and grab your purse, and he stands to offer his hand. You look at it and then back up to see the small smile on his face. Taking his hand, he intertwines your fingers and leads you outside. You look and see Frankie and the girls already halfway to the tree lighting, and you grin at Frankie's not so subtle matchmaking skills.

"Looks like they left without us," Santiago laughs, tugging your hand into the crook of his elbow and taking off at a more leisurely pace. You shiver as light snowflakes begin to fall. Cascading the area into a winter wonderland. He stops walking and shrugs out of his thick overcoat, and hands it to you.

"I can't take your coat," you try to refuse, but he grabs your arm and puts it on you like you would your daughter. "I…" the argument dies on your lips as he gives you a playful glare. "Thanks for lending me your jacket."

"Now, you're just going to have to keep me warm." You laugh together, and he retakes your hand and intertwines your fingers. "So about what I said earlier? Are you seeing anyone?"

"Would I be holding hands and flirting with you all night if I was? Do you think I'm that type of woman?" He quickly throws his hands up and shakes his head no.

"No, no, that's not...I just, shit, I am fucking this up, aren't I?"

"No," you chuckle, "But I'm having fun watching you try. Frankie told me you were a huge flirt, and I should watch out for you. I like what I have seen so far, and you are incredibly handsome with a nice butt. So yes, I am single. Now, what are you going to do about it."

You both arrive at the tree lighting and look for Frankie, who waves you over near the doorway to the community center. He smiles at you, both seeing your hands intertwined and raising one eyebrow. "The girls are with their instructor there going to go on in about ten minutes. Also, remember that Frankie is the perfect name for a boy."

Santiago punches him in the arm, and Frankie laughs. "Shut up, Frankie," you scoff. "I'm going to go get some hot chocolate inside. Do you want anything?"

"I'll come with you," Santi follows close, still holding your hand as you wait inside for hot cocoa and cookies. "You asked me what am I am going to do about it?"

You nod, looking at him, "Yeah, and did you decide?" You take a step forward as the line moves.

"Yes, right about now," he dips you, and you give a little yelp as he plants his lips onto yours. His lips are warm and soft, and you melt into the kiss as the small crowd cheers around you. When he brings you back up, you feel lightheaded and swoon a little, but he catches you laughing. "Sorry, the moment was just too perfect," he points up, and you smile at the mistletoe hanging overhead.

"Well, wouldn't want to waste perfectly good mistletoe," you kiss him again, and he responds. Running his hands over your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening it.

"Excuse me? Are you still in line for hot chocolate?" An older man taps Santi's shoulder, and you break away giggling, burying your face in his neck.

"No, sir, I think we're going to skip the hot chocolate; I got something sweeter right here."

The older man blushes before moving around you, and you both burst out laughing before he kisses you again. The emcee from outside begins the program, and you shout, running and dragging Santi behind you. Frankie looks at you both and just shakes his head laughing. "What's so funny?" you ask.

"Nothing, I just never realized that red was your color, Pope," he teases, and you look at Santi, shocked before you laugh and quickly grab a wipe from your purse and wipe it off. You wipe off your own lipstick, and both men watch, amused.

"What now?" you huff.

"Why are you wiping off your own lipstick?" Frankie questions smiling.

"Oh, I am kissing him a lot more before this night is over. The last thing I need is the Spanish Inquisition from my daughter about why the nice man from the restaurant is wearing my lipstick." Santiago's lips turn up into a smile before he kisses you again, and you pull back smiling at Frankie, who has his mouth agape.

"I am really looking forward to kissing you more, but can I also take you out for dinner tomorrow night? Maybe Frankie can watch Harper?" Frankie nods, agreeing with the plan.

You kiss him again as the ballet music starts, "I would really love that."

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @josepedropascal @letoartreiides @revolution-starter

#santiago pope garcia #Santiago pope garcia x reader #Female reader #single mom reader #triple frontier #Oscar Isaac #Autumn Writes

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shinglescat · 3 years

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ooga booga

Previous stories here. Kanarielle’s character page here.

It’s been quite a few months already since the power transit already, and to everyone’s surprise Esmir not only did not mind it at all, she even welcomed the change with her arms wide open. She did protest once, however, at the start of it all, when her grandchildren expressed their demands for her - the old lady surely expected her grandson to take the reign just out of spite, not the fragile granddaughter; she voiced her concern, but they did not listen. Still, she was suspiciously okay with the turn of the events, and Mark guessed it was because of more of the available free time in her schedule for… debauchery and other side projects. Other than that, Esmir’s been insisting on them both showing off at a soiree, just to keep the nobility talking about them, sort of a power display, and Livaen planned everything out from there herself as the new head of the family, as the new Lady Sorano.

It wasn’t in his plans to go alone, yet the circumstances thought differently. Livaen managed to talk him into this, promising an easy evening and a “free-to-go” card after. As soon as he opened his mouth to agree on the occasion, his luck decided to go south - later the same evening Aspen had to leave him due to some “unforeseen events” in a complete urgency. Mark knew better than to ask, as it was near impossible to get anything out of the man, so he was left on his own until he met with an old friend of his again. The luck wasn’t on his side this time either; he had to attend the soiree alone anyways, even though he and his friend arrived together and even agreed on playing out a couple for the public to spare the elf from unwanted attention and unsolicited affection; the girl had to take care of a sudden matter at hand, so he left her in the Void to her own devices and proceeded with the gathering alone.

- Hope it went well, - she greeted him as soon as he showed up, notes of worry in her voice. She was modestly sitting on his bed, in one of the smaller residences of the family, watching him as he got upstairs, walked up to the bed and crashed into the sheets with his face down right beside her. Kana patted him on the back lightly, feeling of guilt making her cheeks turn red for leaving him like this alone, - I’m sorry you had to be there on your own tonight, - she quietly apologized, - Won’t happen again.

- It’s okay, don’t sweat it, - he raised his hand to stop her from saying anything else, mumbling into the bed, eyes closed, - Could’ve figured the luck wasn’t on my side, - he snickered, drained and overwhelmed with the spotlight he had to endure with no way for him to retreat. So much for the promised easy evening.

Kanarielle rolled her eyes.

- Man, if you aren’t a diva, - she reached his head with her hand, her nails scratching the scalp. The elf tensed up a bit, but then relaxed into the feeling, pleasure from the touch tingling at the nape of his neck, - You can complain now, please do begin.

Mark sighed loudly.

- Nothing to complain, - he took a moment to breathe in and out, to calm down the heart that was beating way too fast in his chest, - It was a ginormous lie. She promised an easy evening, but… I dunno, if that’s an easy evening for her, I’m dreading of the harder ones, - he turned on the spot, his back against the bed sheets, facing the elf girl, - There was a woman… Has to be from Livaen’s retinue. Very insistent and utterly… handsy, kept touching me the whole evening, - Mark groaned, remembering the altmer lady - Niluer, the touch of her fingers still lingering on his skin, her nails on his jaw as she tried to get his attention, - And I’m not mentioning the other ones that were eyeing me like I’m a piece of a fresh delectable meat or something. Felt like they were about to devour me alive.

The girl raised her eyebrow, chuckling.

- Oh boy, are they in for a surprise tomorrow, - she said, whispering, - when I’ll be the only one groping your ass in public… - Kana cheerfully slapped her knees in anticipation, nudging him with her elbow, obviously joking. Mark had none of that; he tried to push her away, grunting disapprovingly at the mental image, - Alright, alright, no groping, - she gently stroked his shoulder, adding in a small voice, - Though you are the piece of a fresh delectable meat, - her hands went up into his hair, fingers combing through it, - Thought no one’s gonna notice you return into the family? You are one helluva promising bachelor, – he whined, attempting once more to shove her off the bed. She slapped his tummy lightly in retaliation, - Oh, and let’s not forget your grandma! Anyone in their right mind would want to bask in her power, - Mark tried to say something, but she covered his mouth with a palm of her hand before he would voice anything, - They gon be fighting for your body parts, heart and hands, all that. BUT!, they are the least of your problems.

- And the big problems? – Mark forcefully removed the hand off his mouth, snorting and rolling his eyes.

This time she casually smacked him on his forehead, clap rather loud than painful, the sound muffled by cushions and furniture.

- You have a huge profit sign on your forehead, - Kana pointed her index finger right in between his brows, pressing it into the skin rather painfully, - that’s what I’m saying; they will use and do anything to get to you. And since Livaen is… you know, I’m not talking about her even here, this seems to summon her out of thin air – this makes you a better target.

- Ugh, don’t lecture me, - he brushed off her warning, knocking the hand away from the face, - Like I don’t know it, there are always the people who would suck a dick or two to get some benefits, - Mark looked at her, then shifted his gaze at the window. He tried to ignore the thought, dismiss it as if it was of no concern, tried to act tough, but his mind still lingered on the concept. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, set on steering the conversation away from him and the uncomfortable subject, - Was it the same in the Sanctuary? For you?

Kana shifted on the bed inelegantly, her entire spine stiffening up at the mention of the place. She looked nowhere.

- No, not really, no, - she paused, reminiscing her own family, or rather those she used to call like that, - We’re far from nobility you saw there, though as far as I remember, - she hummed, biting her lip, memories resurfacing again after years of oblivion, - Mandil mentioned Bellaniel being a higher up member of the Falmeri society before the fall of the Snow Prince. We were more like a cult, I think, worshipping our blood and condemning the men, - Kanarielle snickered, - Imagine a club for old and bitter edgy elves – that’s us! It was similar for Ryl tho – Bellani intended on finding a party for her once she’s of age, marry her off to someone of their people, so they would “continue to carry on the legacy”, whatever that means, “of the last Snow Elves”, secluded in their own little world, of course, - something stirred inside her, and she paused, - Fuck, she’s probably married already, gotta have a kid, - her guts twisted unpleasantly, entire insides doing somersaults at once, a wave of nausea going up her throat. She tried to will it go away, but the awful feeling didn’t fade, - It’s been years since I last saw her. We were sixteen when I ran away, Mark, and Rylnir already had suitors courting her by that age, sucking up to Bellani, - the girl gasped for air loudly, as if suffocating, - They probably didn’t think of her anything but a hole in a piece of meat on the legs. We were just children, for fuck’s sake, but our fates were already decided for us.

Mark sat up straight.

- What about you? – he asked carefully, feeling uneasy, anxious of what she’s about to say, the memories likely distressing her.

- Dunno if I had it better, - she shrugged, leaning on his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck, - Ryl’s to become the next Matriarch once Bellaniel’s dead, and I was set to become the guardian to the realm. Bellani did everything to indoctrinate me, all that inspirational religious bullshit, and it honestly worked – I was bitter at men, at what they had done to us, - Mark hugged her by her shoulders, holding her tight against his side, feeling a faint shiver and a frequent, fast heartbeat, so strong it was reflecting in his own body, almost deafening. She was tense, her entire body stiff, ready to fight, - She played the “you’re the last of your kind” card, and I was dumb enough to fall to that. She poisoned me with hate, - the girl pulled back, looking into the elf’s eyes.

- You hate her too, - he whispered, cringing on the pain in his forearm, as she clung to it like to a lifeline, - No… You are afraid of her.

She sighed, releasing the arm from her grip, settling back on his shoulder. The fury, the anger she felt died out in a blink of an eye, replaced with an empty cold calm.

- I am, - her voice tranquil, - I used to hate her, now I’m just scared. She did everything to turn me into a willing vessel for Meridia, - she straightened her arm, reaching out into the air, green sparks swirling under her palm, - I was to become a purified, think you’re familiar what that means. She always talked about caring of all meri, but was only interested in the survival of her own kind, didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Leo was the last adult ayleid in the realm, and I was the only child of my “untimely deceased” ayleid parents. Isn’t it weird? – she glanced at him, puzzled, - Guess she found it poetic.

Mark lowered them both onto the bed, still holding her in a hug, gently stroking her arm. Meridia again, huh, with a quest for an army of brain dead glowing vegetables.

- How did you escape?

- No clue, Mark, I swear. I was sitting in my chambers, talking to Mandil, then I blackout and later find myself swimming through a cave with a thing chasing me. Was scared shitless, but managed to get out, ended up at the western shore of Ilinalta, - she rose up above him, pointing at her silver eyes, - You know, I used to have blue eyes, but I guess she or… they tried to punish me for leaving, tried to make me blind. I thought I’m done for, but Jack found me, did some magic, restored my sight, - her voice sounded much more serene than a few minutes before, heartbeat no longer audible, - A few years later Bellani tried to bring me back, affecting me through dreams. Almost succeeded, too, but Jack intervened, pierced her through in one of the nightmares and sundered the connection to the Sanctuary. Hadn’t had them since.

- Shit, Rie, that’s….

- Now that’s the name I hadn’t heard in a while, - she laughed hopelessly, interrupting Mark before he would express his condolences, still towering above him. She looked sad, though the weak smile on her face tried to say something else, - Jack used to call me that, - the girl closed her eyes dreamy, as if she heard him call her again.

- What happened to him? You were so inseparable, - the elf inquired, pulling her back onto the bed.

- Yeah, were, but he grew distant, and I had to leave him, all that bubbly stuff, - she turned on her side, her head resting on Mark’s chest, - I loved him, otherwise I’d leave him sooner. It was hard to let go, but it was for the best. Him growing distant helped to sever the bond.

- Did he love you though? – Mark asked into the air, gently stroking her arm, eyes growing weary, fatigue steadily putting him to sleep.

- Don’t know. I think he was just attached, nothing more, we were never meant to be, - she laughed humorlessly, - He saved me though, and I’m grateful for it, would never make it to the adulthood without him. Would be lying if I said I don’t miss him sometimes too. He was my first real friend anyways, was foolish of me to fall for him, - Kanarielle paused, thinking about something for a moment, - But I have Scott now… Actually, - she rose up, looking at him as another thought crawled into her head, - Do you think there could be something between you and I if the circumstances were different?...

Mark gazed outside, genuinely thinking about her question for a good minute or two. He couldn’t tell if he liked her appearance or not, as it was the foremost to judge a potential partner, he never gave it much thought in this regard, and found himself unable to… check her out, no matter how hard he tried to do so. Then he tried thinking about the other girl he knew, tried to compare them – Braenn was one example, but something in his own head prevented him from doing so. He thought of Meltem – yes, that woman was the best of them all; he thought of Livaen’s Nilufer – the woman was quite alright in the looks department; but then he went back to Kana, then mother, then Visenya, and the block returned. As far as the personality went… he burst into laughter, giving the girl funny looks: they would be like an unconfined wild fire together in the middle of a field of a dead dry grass in winter, self-combusted from a rogue zombie-flame under the ground, with someone dumping the fuel to keep them roaring. He didn’t like her at first, she seemed to be too haughty; he guessed she didn’t like him at first either, must have been something about him as well. As the time went by, he figured her being too proud of herself was a defense mechanism, and as they grew closer he discovered a whole new side to her; it probably was the same with her opinion of him, otherwise they would never make it to good friends able to share some darkest, and dumbest, secrets.

- Honestly? – he looked at her, a single tear dancing in the corner of his eye, making the image blurry. She nodded, - Don’t think so. We’re too much alike, and that’s the recipe for a disaster, - the elf girl smirked, approvingly patting him on his chest.

- True, you were really annoying back in the days, - Mark raised his brow at that, looking playfully offended, - And the fake beard of yours?

- Ugh, - he groaned, smiling, - Remember yourself, you thought you are the all mighty ayleid, and it was in your destiny to make the world bow before you, you wanted to conquer the ruby throne, - the elf gestured wildly with his hands, making the girl pinch the skin on his sides and poke him somewhere under his rib.

- Oh, oh! Remember that huge eyeliner you had? Why did you paint it like that? Also, glad you dropped it, - she finger gunned at him.

- Meltem used to paint it, - he explained, - Helped with… identity at the time. She came up with the idea, really boosted my self-esteem. Can’t do it myself though, hands aren’t as steady, - Mark grunted, - Asked Aspen to help me put it on once Meltem left with Livaen, but he said I’m fine as I am and hid the pencil somewhere, still haven’t found it, - Kanarielle wheezed, giving thumbs up to the absent man for the idea; she was glad he made him ditch that horrendous face paint. They laughed for a little longer, remembering the vices and virtues of each other; it was a good distraction from the talk they had before, yet the thoughts in Mark’s head like cockroaches kept racing and bringing him back to the delicate subject, replacing the cheerful smile with a frown, - Shit, - he rubbed his eyes again, prompting Kana to yank his hand away from his face, - Shit, I didn’t know. You never told me the whole story.

- If that is of any comfort, I had no idea either, - she hugged him across his chest, - That is… until you brought me back yesterday. The Void is so different from what I remember, - Kana made a quiet laugh, - Catherine kept me from going out with you, had to tell this to me; couldn’t join you after the revelation, needed to process this through first, - it made him rise on his elbow, looking at the ayleid with eyes wide open. She knew Catherine? Or did she introduce herself while he was gone? - Don’t be so surprised now, - she rolled her eyes, pushing him back into the bed sheets, - I lived in a daedric realm for more than half of my life, don’t you think I know how to communicate with the entities? - Kanarielle giggled, adding in a low voice, - It must be awkward to have her watching over you all the time, especially during the..., - she hummed, - frisky moments, - red in the elf’s face started showing, making her add, - I missed the girly gossips.

- Oh my god, why, - Mark whined, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands, embarrassed, blood rushing to his head, turning him red, - Why you have to ruin everything.

- Well, that was intentionally awkward, - she grinned at him, pretty happy with her achievement, - Now let’s talk about you instead. How were you?

Mark groaned, still red as a pomegranate, but gladly changing the funny subject nevertheless.

- She prolly told you how I was as well, - he couldn’t help but reply in an annoyed and sarcastic tone, and she smacked him across his forehead for that, - Stop hitting me! – the elf grabbed her forearm before she’d descend another blow upon him, throwing daggers at her with his eyes, - I’d probably be dead as well, alright? Not brain dead like you or Cath, just dead-dead in my case, - he scratched the bridge of his nose, - Father told us, hadn’t I met Aspen, I’d be floating among the pillars with my throat slit open, no biggie, and you’d probably be the first one to find me, - he fell silent for a second, deciding to reroute the conversation one more time, - You have to teach me later how to interact with the whole place. But only basics, nothing in-depth – wanna leave the reigns in Cath’s hands.

- Sure thing, - she replied, readjusting herself on Mark’s chest, putting a hand under her head and enjoying the silence, - Don’t wanna turn into your daddy, do you? – it was Mark’s turn this time to smack her lightly on her back, - Ouch. That hurts, - the girl glanced at him, insulted. She wanted to make a comeback, but the elf already had his eyes closed, breathing quietly, chest calmly rising up and going down, exhaustion finally getting to him. She watched him for a second, musing whether to follow his lead and go to sleep, or to mess with him more, when a sudden thought emerged, - Mark? – she called him, drawing a dozy hum from him, - You ever thought about making it official?

- Official what? – it took a whole long moment for the elf to reply, mind already slipping away into slumber.

- You know… tying the knot, - she elaborated, gesturing vaguely, - getting the arrow to the knee, - Mark snorted, - Marriage, for fuck’s sake, you deep skull dingus, - the elf snickered, shoving the girl off him, turning his back on her, - Seriously, Mark. You need to.., - she couldn’t finish the sentence, as he bent around rather uncomfortably, putting his hand over her mouth.

- Sure, you’re gonna be my flower girl, - he unbent back into his place, tucking his hands under his head, sleep returning to him once more, - Now shut up, - she pinched the skin on his side yet again, mad at him for interrupting her, but the elf didn’t react, - Nah, you’re not getting the maid of honor, that’s gonna be Meltem.

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- Where is he, you dipshit, - Kanarielle cornered a servant, holding him by his throat, green fumes shimmering in between her fingers, threatening the poor man with a slow and painful death. She’s been stalking him like a predator this whole evening, observing from a distance first to confirm her suspicions, them making a move, - Where is he?! – she repeated, her voice raw, uncharacteristic to her, as she slammed the servant into the wall. The man whined like an injured dog, - I saw him with you, you stupid cunt, what did you give him and where did you take him? – the man kept silence, anxiously shooting glances behind her as if someone were to save him from the enraged ayleid. She slapped him across his face, - Sunnabe, dead or alive, you’re telling me everything either way, - Kanarielle spat, piercing through the skin on the neck of the servant with the shards of ice condensed at the tips of her fingers, turning the them red as the blood leaked out of the wounds. She didn’t want to resort to puppeteering – it was hard, tiresome to hold the connection, she hated to control living beings like this, and most importantly at the moment – she was wearing an expensive evening dress; it was something Mandil taught her in secret from Bellaniel, figured she would need this knowledge should she be in a grave danger. It was different from the common known blood magic; hers was primordial and basic, relying on the blood flowing through the creatures of flesh. One way to use it was to draw blood of a target, allowing her to control it indefinitely; there could be multiple targets at once, up to a full army, with, possibly, no limitations, though she had no opportunity, or will, to test it. The other way was to manipulate a target though the power of her own blood, ideal for covert operations and perfect for remote control. Both had their drawbacks: first was messy, leaving wounds on the victims, having literal strings attached that get severed with a distance; the second required constant concentration, and she couldn’t hold it for a long period of time, draining her of her powers, - Now speak, - the flesh under her hand relaxed, and she removed herself from the body, - From the beginning, - she commanded the servant, smearing his warm blood in between her fingers.

… She made her way down a green cavern, voices becoming louder and louder. It was dank in here, moldy smells in the air; the cave floor was muddy, footprints barely visible in the wet dirt, occasional slide marks too – someone lost their footing and slipped on the slope. Luckily, she didn’t notice any signs of fight or struggle.

The servant, or rather his willing body, proved useful in tracking down the abductors. The people behind the kidnapping were some backwater nobles of the Reach, merchants by trade, criminals by fate, barely known to the world; the business became harder with the more frequent attacks of the foresworn and the vampires, and their town in the middle of nowhere quickly depopulated, turning into a shadow of its former self… Like it was blooming before, Kanarielle snorted. Apparently, they were helped by some families once or twice with soldiers, food and gold, but their inability at keeping it together turned away their former allies, leaving them alone. Fast forward few years later, and the family finally resorted to racketeering, trying their “best” to help their town to survive. They should’ve just left it altogether, there was nothing valuable in the area safe for a small field of crops and an iron mine.

Kana warned him, told him to be careful around the nobility, to trust no one and be on a high alert, but he did not listen. He was careless around people, bothered by something so much he had lowered his guard down; she tried her best to keep him out of harm’s way, but failed, letting him slip from her constant surveillance. Now where was he? Kidnapped, held captive as a tool to regain someone else’s power; he was here somewhere, hopefully not dead or sick. The Soranos didn’t know, not yet, neither did know Meltem about what happened – she kept her discovery secret, preferring to keep it quiet to keep the collateral damage as low as it could be possible. An easy job, infiltrate and rescue, she’s done this a hundred times already with Jack. So far she did good, only once having to knock out a brute at the entrance; entering a combat would be a death sentence for her alone without anyone to back her up.

The servant uncovered their ploy. The merchants turned criminals joined together with a group of highway robbers: the first were to find an unsuspecting target and to gain their trust – they still were nobles despite the shady dealings; the second were to wait outside for the first to render the target unconscious to abduct them to a secluded retreat far into the forests; the nobles then would be free of any suspicions, and later can present the wounded party with their help, saying they… found the culprits through their connections in exchange for a favor and some fame points. And Mark just made their entire bank and more, Kanarielle shook her head disapprovingly, they probably didn’t expect to make it with a hostage of his size.

She climber up a ledge, observing the roaming bandits below: she counted five of them, all minding their own business; they did not seem to notice an intruder yet. Behind – she passed three more, and she had no idea how many of them were ahead. “How much you think we gonna get for he arse?” – she heard one of them asking the other. Kanarielle slowly exhaled, not knowing she had her breath held this whole time, relieved with the question - it meant these bandits were still on the same page with the merchants back at the party. “We’re better off selling him to someone else”, - another voice chimed in, low and worried, “The kid’s a Sorano, his granny won’t leave us alive once we do the deal”. Right, the girl thought, the merchants told them there’s going to be a negotiation, but failed to mention them slaughtering all the bandits to keep them quiet and away from their own affairs. “We have our orders! The boy is to be sold to his family. Our patrons shall cover us”, - another one spoke, flailing around with a rusty mace of his. A dangerous stuff, Kana noted, as she noticed a sick yellow aura radiating from it, the glow floating on the surface of the metal. “You so sure?” – the man from before replied, sarcastic tone of his voice, definitely having experience in this matter, “Our dear “patrons” might as well rescue the kid themselves! You know how they operate, we mustn’t trust them. Gotta sell the boy to someone else, get our gold, save our lives as well while we can…”

Kanarielle didn’t listen to them any longer, dropping down from the ledge, trying not to slip on the wet floor, and proceeded further. She sneaked behind the rocks and furniture, snippets of their conversation getting to her ears, none registering though. Her mind was still at the thoughts expressed by the last guy – little idea he had about how close to the truth he was; their “patrons” were to rescue the elf in a few hours, slaughtering each and every single one of them on sight so they wouldn’t tell the truth to Esmir.

Another bend of the tunnel, and she saw cages and a guard, so carelessly standing with his back wide open to the entrance, watching after the precious prisoner. Without wasting anymore time, she sneaked up on him, delivering a sharp blow with a dagger right under his ribs. His blood rushed to the wound, turning her hand red; the man did not utter a word, but tried to fight her and the feeling, yet the control over his body slipped away eventually, and she took over it herself, his blood like strings attached to her fingers.

- Guard the entrance, - she commanded quietly, blood shimmering in the weak light of the torches, - Do not let anyone in, tell them whatever you must. Do not pick a fight, try to stall them as long as you can, - the man nodded, turning on his heels.

She looked around herself; the elf was lying in front of her behind the bars, seemingly unconscious, thick metal cuffs around his wrists digging into his skin, a tight metal collar around the neck. The keys to the cages were lying flat on the wooden table across the room, covered in a layer of rust, all of the same shape and size, so it probably didn’t matter which one she used to open the locks.

Kanarielle entered the cell, kneeling before him and inspecting the shackles – runes were all over them, glowing lightly with violet, radiating something that made it harder for her to breathe, fatigue getting to her, probably enchanted with silence, draining the prisoner of his magic; they were prepared well, even predicted the possibility of a magic-capable hostage. She tried to open the locks with the keys from the cells, but none worked the key to the binds was probably in someone else’s hands, and she had no time to go back and look for it. The other way to rescue the elf was to disintegrate the metal altogether: the ayleid put her hands around the collar first, watching it start to age, rust flakes falling slowly until there was nothing left, all crumbled to dust, the enchantment gone as well. A wave of power washed over her as the barrier containing the magic was gone, and Mark gasped for air, his consciousness returning to him.

- What the…? – he tried to ask, but his throat was dry like a desert, preventing him from speaking more.

- Don’t talk, - Kana told him, cupping the cuffs with her hands, disintegrating those as well, the metal turning to rust and to dust, - Gonna tell you later. Can you walk? Gotta get out of here, - she got back on her feet, handing him a small flask of water she had stashed in a pocked. The elf finished the entire container in no time.

The kid tried to stand, shaking violently, muscles sore, but standing nonetheless. He was no fighter at the moment, more of a burden, and she had to get him out of here to the safety of his grandmother.

________________________________________________________

- Esmir was furious when I dragged your sorry ass to her, - the ayleid laughed lightly, applying a soothing balm to the irritation on the skin from the rusty metal cuffs on his wrists and his neck. There was some swelling here and there, bruises and scratches, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with the time, - Not gonna lie to you, it was scary, - Mark hissed quietly at the girl rubbing on his wounds. He was already sitting at the edge of the bed, ready to take off from the discomfort of the balm she was using, - Shit, sorry, but you gotta take it as it is, I’m no healer, - the elf silently nodded, turning his head to the side, - You know, your grandmother’s a terrifying woman. She was all fury for the first couple minutes, then calmed down, and next she was playing along with the guys who ‘napped you. Esmir, the helpless and innocent old lady, - she snickered. A crackling sound in the distance alerted her; she turned to look into the direction of the sound, but there was nothing. The Void was calm as well, so she paid no further attention to it, resuming the talk, - She sent Orlan after them, then went in herself. Dunno what happened there, but she was… ecstatic on their return, totally soaked in blood.

- Picked the wrong granny to mess with, - Mark laughed, coughing, still exhausted. It’s been a few days already, and he still hadn’t recovered from the incident, magic depleted. Esmir figured the shackles had some strong enchantment bound to them, and it would be for the best to let the kid rest in the Void, to let the place do its job; Kana brought him back here, staying at his side this whole time and tending to the bruises.

She added one last smear of the balm to the swelling on his neck and set the jar aside.

- Damn, you never told me she had a daedra for a lover. Disgusting. And what’s even more disgusting is that it said it’s your… I’m sorry, half-brother? – she had a mixed expression on her face, disgust with repulsion and confusion sprinkled on top.

Mark groaned.

- Don’t ask. Father’s side. Luckily they aren’t related. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, she can do anything, - he brushed it off as if it was a no biggie. Really, it was a no big deal for the woman, she found interest in everyone and everything that moved and had some semblance of personality to them. Her main lover was her bodyguard and ex-general Orlan, whom she trusted with her life and everything she had. The other was the daedra, Walerian, and she praised him as a versatile worker bee, though Mark wished he didn’t know that; he was the usual resident of her beds, and she loved showing him off in the public. Another one was a woman she mentioned once, an old altmer mage, but he couldn’t remember her name, and an unknown dunmer with violet eyes. Esmir was a married woman though, not even a widow, yet that did not hold her back in her love affairs.

- That is gross. Anyways, - Kanarielle covered her face with the palms of her hands, trying to make her face relax after cringing so hard, - It? He then? said they had a fun time messing with them, - she paused, listening to the sudden footsteps sounds growing louder and louder, as if someone was getting closer, but the Void, Catherine, didn’t alert her to the intruder, so she tried to not mind it, - He went into the details, but I had to cut him short. Really disgusting, thank you very much, and I’d rather not hear about the guts hanging for the ceiling and eventual… you get the idea. Super gross. Apparently they had some fricky time in the pools of blood and right on top of the corpses, - she added quietly, gagging. Esmir did enjoy some blood and gore plays.

Someone walked into the room, their steps echoing against the stone.

- What happened here? – the silver-haired man inquired, looking at the elves on the bed, blood dripping from his hands and a huge serrated sword, leaving a red trail behind. He lowered the weapon with its jagged edges near the entrance, the blade making a clacking sound against the stone.

Mark shushed at Kanarielle, giving her the most intense looks she’s ever seen in her entire life. His face went from asking to threatening to murderous and to pleading, but she had none of it.

- No biggie, - she winked at the elf, - this dumbass got himself kidnapped, - the girl shrugged her shoulders as the dumbass in question hit her lightly into her thigh. Aspen cocked his eyebrow at them, - He oughtta know what kind of idiot you are, stop being pissy, - the elf rolled his eyes, giving the ayleid the middle finger, - I’m wounded! – she exclaimed, - Alright, cue taken, gonna leave you two, - Kana raised her hands into the air, getting up from the bed and leaving the room.

Aspen took off his blood soaked coat at the entrance, disposing of it rather untidily. There was a hint of worry in his otherwise blank face, and it took the elf by surprise when the man approached him.

- You hurt? – his voice uncharacteristically concerned, - Let me see, - he reached his hand out to the elf, trying to catch him by his arm, but the elf pulled away, almost jumping, violently shaking his head.

- You ain’t touching me with those, - he pointed at the coagulated, almost dried out blood on his fingers. Face nonchalant, Aspen grabbed a fistful of clean purple bed sheets and wiped the hands with them, reaching to the elf once again. Mark groaned, giving him his hand at last, - Who’s blood is that?

The man gently touched the swollen bruise, his fingers finding the wet sticky balm Kanarielle applied a few minutes ago; he stroked the entire scar lengthwise, occasionally drawing huffs and puffs from the elf: it’s been less than a week since the incident, but the area under the binds still hurt as if covered in tiny invisible cuts.

- Not mine, - Aspen answered with a low and tired voice, letting go of the hand and switching over to the bruise on the neck, - Should be gone in a week, - the man concluded, pulling the elf’s black haired head closer, giving a quick peck under the jaw and letting go.

Aspen looked drained, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, the elf noted, watching him from below remove messy articles of clothing; he looked like he’s about to crash, and his gear did not want to cooperate with the fatigue. Mark had to stand up; he stopped him with a gesture of his hand, grabbing the apparel himself and pulling down, discarding near the bed – he’ll tidy it up later. The man thanked him faintly, clumsily climbing on the bed, crashing into the sheets with eyes already closed; the elf sat at the edge, looking all over him for a moment: he seemed uninjured, just deadly tired.

- So, when are you returning? – Mark asked after a long pause, having nothing else to ask. Aspen tilted his head at the elf, one eye barely open, sighing in exhaustion before closing it again, - Fine, gonna leave you alone then.

- Stay, - he muttered, catching the elf by his forearm before he would get up. With the residue of strength he had left, Aspen pulled him onto the bed, a tad higher than himself, - I have to get some sleep, - he told him as if explaining an obvious concept to a toddler, throwing his arm around elf’s waist to keep him grounded. The man was tense, muscles stiff and rigid, - Need to get going in a few hours, - his words carried a concealed plea, and if Mark didn’t know him any better, it would go unnoticed.

He nodded, awkwardly climbing higher onto the bed, almost curling around the man, around his head and the torso; his white hair smelled of iron and gunpowder, a hint of ash too as he combed through it, the scent becoming stronger as he planted gentle kisses. Aspen softened into the feeling, brows relaxing, breath steady. Mark smiled gingerly, his hand going lower, caressing man’s temples softly, thumb brushing the high cheekbones; eventually, both drifted to sleep.

________________________________________________________

Mark was woken up by a scent of marigolds with faint notes of lemon balm, thyme and sage, all carried with an overwhelmingly sweet and sour aroma of sea buckthorn. He cringed; he loved the tree, it was absolutely unique in its looks of silver needle-like leaves and amber fruit, yet the berries’ taste was disgusting in his book, and it made him want to get away from it as far as he could.

Something touched his neck, warm and oily, thick liquid slowly going down his skin, rerouted by a touch somewhere else. He opened his eyes; instead of seeing Kanarielle with the tingling, itchy balm Esmir’s healer gave them, he found Aspen bent over him with a smelly jar in his hand, amber of color, applying the oil to the bruise on his neck.

- Miss Aquilla brought me the ingredients I asked her, - he noticed the elf wake up. Mark winced, the smell of the berries too strong to bear. The man smiled; he put the jar aside to pet the elf on the head with his clean hand, leaning closer to kiss him on the forehead, - The one you used before caused irritations, had to make something different, - his fingers dipped into the oil again, smearing another portion of it on the other side of the neck, gently rubbing it in until it stopped dripping.

- Thanks, - the elf mumbled, trying to get up; Aspen pulled him up, switching his attention to the bruises on the wrists, - Thought you needed to get going, - Mark said, watching the man rub in the oil into his skin; he’s bound to be smelling funny the whole day. The man nodded.

- I have some time left, - he switched onto the other wrist, - Need to tend to your bruises first, - the jar was finally closed, and Mark exhaled in relieve; surprisingly, the new mixture didn’t sting at all like the fat-based balm before did, and he’ll probably get used to the smell later on, - Mark, why can’t I leave you alone? – Aspen suddenly asked, grabbing him by his hands, taking the elf by surprise. He sounded like a disappointed teacher, - You have to be more careful, - the man explained, drawing a wheezing laugh from him, - I’m being serious, Mark, - he paused, - I don’t want to come back one day and find you missing a limb, - Mark laughed nervously, staring at the weary man; the intense look in his eyes said more than he needed to know, filling the elf with guilt the more he kept staring. He muttered an “I’m sorry” under his breath, shifting his gaze somewhere to his feet, fidgeting with fingers, “I’ll be more careful”, - I know you are worried as well, - Aspen pulled the elf in a hug, feeling him rest his chin on his shoulder, - I will be back soon.

- Yeah, - Mark sighed, hiding his face in the crook of man’s neck, - Haven’t heard anything from you for almost two weeks, and last night you appeared soaked in blood. Can’t mind my own safety when I don’t know if you’re okay or not.

- I’ll be back soon, promise, - he repeated, pulling away, - I have some unfinished business, it won’t take long, - Aspen kissed him on the forehead, getting up from the bed, - Have to get going now, - he told him, collecting his gear lying around on the floor haphazardly, the blood dried out and flaking already, leaving red spots throughout the clothing; Mark rose up after, helping him put the apparel on him.

- You are disgustingly sweet, - Kanarielle took both by surprise, silently entering the room, almost sneaking up on them, - Might as well start selling all that sugar of yours… Here, the last piece of your order, - she came up to them, handing Aspen a leather pouch filled with something, hard edges prominent under the hide. The man thanked her with a nod, palpating the purse and the contents inside; happy with the thing delivered, he kissed the elf goodbye and bowed to the ayleid, - Boy, aren’t you two looking like a couple of mushy puppies, - she commented, watching the man leave them alone and disappear into the portal.

- Kana, - Mark suddenly called her, weirdly excited. Her comment was ignored, - tell me, why can’t I make shortcuts through the Void?

- Shortcuts? – she was taken aback by his question, expecting anything but this. She furrowed her brows, looking for a better answer. Unlike the Void that one could access from anywhere, the Sanctuary had a single door inside and out, connected through a disguised portal to a series of flooded long caverns for a more difficult access inside a mountain range in Skyrim. To travel from within the realm, Bellaniel had built a secret chamber with hundreds of doors, all connecting to the outside world, and she was the only one who had the keys to get in and out, - Well, the Void is closer to a pocket realm: you exit where you enter, - the girl explained, gathering her thoughts together, - It’s like a hub; to exit elsewhere you need to have a door or two with an anchor in the world outside. Something like that.

- Can we make them? – he inquired cautiously, thinking about the prospect, - And are there any security risks?

The elf girl laughed.

- You are bothered by the security? Oh boy, Mark, you can make it so no one gets there, ever. This whole place belongs to you, you are the master key; you give and revoke invitations to the place, it’s as secure as nothing will ever be, - she hugged him by his shoulders, ruffling his hair, - I have no idea how to open or make doors, but… - Kanarielle listened to the breeze, - but I think Catherine is more than happy to help us.

#sc_storytime #SC_KanarielleAquilla #SC_Mark #SC_EsmirSorano #FV_Aspen #SC_Nilufer

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sincerlypadfoot · 3 years

Text

Invitation (Chapter One)

Dumbledore sends Dobby to retrieve a old student who left year one after her brother died, Dobby brings the girl a letter, begging with her to come back with him to a place, Grimmauld Place.

A/N I love triangle between Eliza, Charlie Weasley and Sirius Black??? I think So?

Word Count-1.8K

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“Simple really,” Eliza Miller, a long blonde hair, twenty three year old girl smiled, landing back on her bed and looking up at the roof. She was born June 29th 1972, only attending hogwarts for less then a year.

She heard a bark, then her bed shifting a bit, then slobbering kisses. Her small pup of a german shepard sat on her chest, liking her cheak.

“What shell we do today pup?” Eliza had lived by herself, dog included since she was nearly thirteen, trauma really, is what she told people, shrugging her shoulders.

No one tend to question her, as everyone thought she was crazy. Not lasting a year at Hogwarts before she had ran away, leaving the friends she had made in the nine months.

Pup let out a little bark, rolling off of Eliza and running out of the room, she smiled, pinning herself up with her elbows and looking around her room.

Nineteen Ninety Five was a lonely year, is was the month of August, the trees slowly starting to turn into the pretty colors of fall, having to wear comfortable jumpers outside, well still wearing shorts acceptiply.

Eliza grabbed a random album from her stand, pulling out the recond and tossing it on her recond platter, her room filled with music.

She smiled, tossing all her windows open, the blinds were up and wind was blowing into her room. Music was her happy place, the place she had gone when she had no one, the one thing she had left was music.

Eliza moved across her room, letting her hair down as she started tossing her clothes into a basket, flicking her fingers, letting the basic levitate on it’s on. Continuing to toss her dirty launders.

“Oh I just wanna be free!”

Pup sat back on her bed, watching as Eliza danced around her room, her sleeves falling down revealing her shoulders. Her golden hair flaying as she danced.

“Please just dance with me!”

The record came to a end, letting Eliza breath, her room was now spottless, she moved from her room, letting her laundry basket follow her, flicking her fingers again, now moving away to her laundry room.

“What a good day to be a witch isn’t it Pup,” Eliza smiled opening her fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.

Pup ran across the room, zooming a bit before stopping at the door. Eliza watched him curiously, before pouring out her large living room window, seeing a unfamiliar little thing walking up her steps.

“Protect me now,” Eliza whispered, gripping her wand beside her as she walked to the door. She waited a couple seconds before opening, swinging the door opened, pointing her wand down in front of her and squinting her eyes.

“Who are you?!” Eliza shouted looking around, a short house elf stood infront of her. She crooked her head looking down.

“Dobby the house elf,” Dobby smiled, walking passed Eliza, coming face to face Pup, who looked at Dobby for a couple seconds before licking his face.

“What are you doing here Dobby, I don’t associate with the Wizarding world no more,” Eliza shut her door, turning around and looking at Dobby, who now held a letter in his hands.

“Dobby has been requests to bring you home,” Dobby smiled walking towards Eliza and holding the letter out.

Eliza took the letter out of Dobbys hand, addressed to her and all. “Who send you?” She asked crossing her arms.

“Dumbledore, you must come with me now, we don’t have any time spare, Dobby has been told to get you back as soon as possible,” Dooby put out his hand, trying to grab Eliza hand.

“Go back to where you came from, i’m not going back,” Eliza walked passed Dobby, tossing the letter on her counter before shaking her head.

“Dobby is very sorry for this,” Dobby followed Eliza, Pup falling behind her. Dobby jumped onto Eliza's back, causing her to fall to the ground.

“Get off me you stupid elf!” Eliza cried out, grabbing Dobby, Pup parked jumping and placing his paws on Eliza's back, parking in Dobby's face now.

“Dobby is sorry,” Dobby repeated, flicking his fingers, disaparting Eliza and Pup.

Eliza screamed in angry as she fell on a hard floor, Dobby jumping off Eliza back and moving away from the angry girl.

“I’m going to kill you!” Eliza cried out jumping to her feet and turning to Dobby who stood looking at Eliza.

“That is enough!” Dumbledore shouted, causing Eliza to turn and face the grey haired man.

“I wanna go home, you bring me home now!” Eliza cried out backing away from the man. “I don’t belong here!”

“Quiet down!” Dumbledore yelled once more, tears fell down Eliza face in fear, her heart was racing. “He is back don’t you understand,”

Eliza shook her head in fear, cowering herself on the wall. “He killed my brother, I can’t Professor,”

Dumbledore shook his head, then looked over at Dobby. “Fetch her some nice clothes now Dobby, presentable,”

Dobby nodded his head, taking off from the room, then Dumbledore looked at Eliza. “You're a very powerful wizard Eliza, now i’d appreciate if you went and changed, we’ve got a meeting to attend,”

Dumbledore walked off, leaving Eliza speechless, Pup was laying on the couch across from Eliza, asleep and having not a care in the world.

Not a word could come out of Eliza mouth, so she sulked her head down, walking out the door where Dobby had just walked out and up the stairs.

“In here,” Dobby chimed opening the door to a room, there as Eliza walked in laid a outfit, fit for her. “I’m sorry, Dobby really is, he thought that you wouldn’t get so angry,”

Eliza shook her head, smiling down at Dobby. “I don’t belong here, and I appreciate your thoughts, but i’m going home tomorrow,”

Dobby didn’t say anything, but walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Sirius and Remus looked at Dumbledore as he sat down, interlocking his hands with a smile, everyone that sat at the table looked at him.

“Whats got you so happy?” Sirius mocked curling his lips and shaking his head. “This isn’t a time for smiles,”

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, letting out a sigh. “I’ve brought someone here, someone who can help us, so if you’d like to continue bannering me, i’ll just send her home and we can do it ourselves,”

Sirius raised his hands in the air, leaning back in his seat and rolling his eyes, Remus nudged him under the table annoyed.

“And who is this mystery person, that is so special she’ll help us?” Sirius said crossing his arms.

“Shut it Sirius, you’re going to cause trouble,” Remus muttered under his breath, kicking Sirius under the table once more, causing him to snap his neck.

“She’ll be down in a moment, you’ll know her as the girl who ran away, not out of fear, but out of anger, it took me a long time to find her, and she won’t like being here, so if you guys could be kind,”

Sirius leaned more back into his seat, looking at Remus with a fake smile. Then at Molly who had a real smile on her face.

“I’ve heard of her before, went to school with Charlie, isn’t that right?” Molly looked at Charlie who was home from Romania, jointing the order.

“Yeah she was pretty weird, after her-,”

“Enough,” Dumbledore shouted shaking her head. “She won’t like bringing up her past, you lot will just scare her away,”

Molly tossed the rest of the vegetables into her pot then looked at Dumbledore. “When will she be down here, i’m sure she’d love to meet everyone,”

“Come out Eliza,” Dumbledore huffed looking towards the door, everyone's heads turned to Eliza who opened the kitchen door, she had been standing and listening the whole time.

“Why am I here?” Eliza asked looking around the room, not recognizing anyone but Charlie, professor Snape and Dumbledore who all looked at her.

“You, produced a full body patrumon, can do spells without your wand, so we think,” Dumbledore suggested looking around the room. “You could help us with Voldemort, i’m sure you’ve heard he’s back,”

“I’ve read something about it, but i’m not interested, i’d like to go home, i’m sorry Dumbledore but it’s really not my thing,”

Molly walked over with a smile. “Molly Weasley dear, are you hungry? I’m sure Dumbledore hasn’t been the kindest host, come sit down,” Her hand went onto Eliza's back, guiding her to a seat, right across from Charlie.

“Eliza,” Charlie said with a smile nodding his head.

“Charlie,” Eliza smeared, leaning back in her seat.

“Eat up love,” Molly placed some soup infront of Eliza, placing a spoon in the bowl, then passing everyone else theirs.

“You Eliza, are a very powerful witch, and i’d like you to sleep on your decision, think on it please?” Dumbledore asked standing up and looking around. “It was nice to see you all but i’ve got some business, Harry Potter trial, he’ll be here soon, be kind to our guests,”

In a second, Dumbledore disapparate and Eliza was left, without a way to get home, the only thing she’d not be able to do without getting horrible sick, or splinched was apparate.

“I think I need to lay down, or do something, this was really good thank you Molly,” Eliza nodded her head, standing up and apparting her bowl to her sink with a smile, without a word.

“Sick,” Sirius smirked at Eliza walked out of the room, coming face to face with pup who looked at her wagging his tail.

“Thats a pretty cute dog you’ve got there,” Charlie smiled coming up behind Eliza, looking over her shoulder at Pup, who looked up at Charlie.

“Yeah, got him only a couple months ago, was tired of roaming my home alone,” Eliza hadn’t fancied Charlie after he lit her hair on fire the first week of meeting.

“Glad to see you, thought you’d never come back,” Charlie moved to Eliza's side, leaning against the wall. “You know I actually did work with dragons, going back to Romania in the summer,”

Eliza smiled leaning against the opposite wall. “Not surprised, that's all you talked about at school, even aced all the tests about them, not sure about the transfiguration ones,”

Charlie and Eliza both shared a laugh before the front door opened, Pup went running, Charlie was faster then Eliza to hold him back.

“It’s okay dude,” Charlie whispered lowering down and stroking teh dogs head at Tonks and Kingsley came into view, smiling at Eliza and Charlie, then Madeye who double looked at Eliza, without saying anything. Then Harry Potter.

“Hello there,” Harry smiled looking at Charlie then the dog. Then looked up at Eliza who gave a slight smile.

“Harry dear,” Molly chimed interrupting the moment and bringing Harry into a hug. “Go upstairs, first door on the right now, you’ll have to wait tell after the meeting to have something to eat,”

Harry was shipped upstairs, not before giving Charlie and Eliza a slight wave.

“You’ve got any dog food for him?” Charlie asked smiling at Pup, still petting him up and down.

“At home, but i’m sure I can find something around here to feed him until tomorrow,”

“No worries Eliza, i’m sure my mom will let you go home to get your things, you’ll stay won't you?”

Eliza stayed quiet. “I’ll sleep on it, but i’m sure they’d let me go to my house and grab some things, thank you Charlie,”

#CharlieWeasley #SiriusBlack #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x y/n #charlie weasley x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #Sirius Black #Charlie Weasley

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beautifultypewriter · 4 years

Text

Flower Girl ~ Morgana Pendragon

Requested: Yes / by Anonymous

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,264

Pairing: Morgana Pendragon x fem!reader

Summary: Reader makes her living by selling flowers in Camelot’s market. She always has something special for the Lady Morgana.

A/N: Okay, so technically some of these flowers would not be found in this region, but we are in a land of myth and a time of magic, so I’m gonna do what I want. Also the symbolism of the flowers is real, but I made up the little stories that go with them.

Tags: @hahaboop

You were up before the sun, yawning as you pulled yourself out of bed and over to your small wardrobe. Flipping through your same fives dresses, you grabbed the light blue one and moved to get changed. You knew that you had to be up early if you wanted to make enough money at the market, but you really did hate having to get out of bed before it was even light out. You yawned again as you ate a quick breakfast of bread and fruit. Then you grabbed your apron and tied it around your waist, moving to the back door of your home. The sun was just starting to peek over the far-off trees, and you smiled as its rays reflected off the morning dew on your flowers. With a pair of shears in hand, you stepped over to your rose bush and started cutting only the perfect blossoms. After gathering a handful of roses, you moved over to your basket, laying them gently within the woven cane. Then you moved to your tulips, your daisies, and your gardenias. Once your basket was full, you set it down and walked further into your garden, your shears clutched tightly in your hand still.

You made it to the flower boxes that you had been looking for and kneeled down, scanning the flowers with your eyes. Finding the perfect one, you smiled to yourself as you cut the ideal length of stem and made your way back to your basket. You nestled the special flower at the side of your basket, wanting to keep it hidden, so that no other customers would try to buy it once you made it to market. Nodding to yourself, you held the handle of the basket in the crook of your elbow and went back into your home. On your way to the front door, you grabbed a small leather pouch from the table, looping its drawstrings onto your belt.

The walk to the market was a quick one, and you were glad to see that your usual spot was still empty. It was just past the beginning of the market, so you would be one of the first vendors seen by people entering the space. Which really was perfect for you, as you didn’t sell necessities, so it was important that you appeal to people early on in their shopping. Gliding over to your spot on the side of the pathway, you smiled at everyone who passed you by, holding out your basket and spinning a yarn about each bud and all the possibilities it could bring into people’s lives. You were a fairly good storyteller and that ability had helped you greatly with your sales. Who doesn’t want to hear a magical story about how a single flower can change your life?

“Hello, Y/N.” You twirled around, your dress flaring out slightly at the bottom, to see your favorite customer smiling at you. Lady Morgana was the picture of beauty and you looked forward to seeing her every day. She always loved to listen to your flower stories and she always ended up purchasing nearly half your basket, claiming that you grew the most beautiful flowers in all of Camelot. Which never failed to make you blush.

You bowed your head, a grin spreading over your lips, “My lady.” As you lifted your head again, you saw the disapproval on her face, and you giggled.

She smiled again, “What do you have for me today?”

Reaching into the basket, you moved your tulips aside, “I actually have something very special today,” your eyes flickered to her, seeing her eyebrows raise, and you pulled out the flower you had hidden, “I’ve been waiting weeks for these to bloom and they finally have.” You held the flower up for her to see, “Camellia. I thought you’d appreciate their beauty.”

Her smile widened as she stared at the flower, “It’s beautiful.” She reached out and ran her lithe fingers over the soft petals, “How much?” She looked up at you.

Shaking your head, you held the flower out to her, “It’s on me.”

She took the flower from you, her smile dropping, “Oh, Y/N, I couldn’t.” She reached for her purse, but you held your hand up.

“Please.” She looked at you and you smiled softly, “It’s a gift.”

She nodded as she pulled the flower closer to her chest, “So does it have a story?” She was smiling at you again and you were sure that your heart was singing.

“Of course, it does,” you leaned closer to her, “and it happens to be one of my absolute favorites.” Morgana’s eyes lit up as you cleared your throat, “A fisherman was counting his catch by the riverside when a young woman broke out of the trees and nearly tripped into the river, but the fisherman caught her before she could hit the water. They looked deeply into each other’s eyes and it was love at first sight.” You paused, so that you could see what Morgana thought so far. She was still smiling as she stared at you intently. She nodded for you to continue, so you did, “They met along the river every night for a week after that, falling deeper in love with every meeting. But then,” Morgana’s smile slipped slightly as her eyes widened, and you sighed, “She revealed that she was promised to another and that she had to leave.” You looked off to the side, “He was heartbroken, so he plucked a beautiful flower from the riverside and presented it to her, telling her that she would always be the flame in his heart.” You looked back to Morgana, your smile tinted with sadness, “And she left. And every night until the day he died, he went down to the riverside and plucked that same flower, the camellia, and sent it down the river as a symbol of his longing for her.”

Morgana reached out and held your hand closely, “That was so beautiful.” She looked down at the flower and you noticed that her cheeks were starting to turn pink.

You coughed, “Yes,” you reached up and rubbed the back of your neck, “I thought you would like it.”

She looked up at you, “I loved it. Thank you, Y/N.” She stared directly into your eyes; her lips parted slightly. Then she was reaching into your flower basket. She pulled a gardenia out, “What of this flower? Does it have a story?”

With a nod, you switched your basket to your other arm, “Yes and it is a much happier one, I think.” She looked up at you, her head tilted to one side. Smiling at her, you glanced at the flower in her hand, “Two lovers,” your eyes met hers again, “weren’t supposed to be together, but they denied that notion and used gardenias to mark their secret meeting places. Now they’re a symbol of secret love.”

Morgana reached for her purse, “I’ll take two.” She placed some coins in your hand as you thanked her and then handed her a second gardenia. She twirled one of the gardenias in between her fingers, looking down at the spinning petals. Then she looked up at you, and reached up to tuck the flower behind your ear, “Until tomorrow then?” You were frozen to your spot, not being able to do anything except stare at her smile. She brought the other gardenia and the camellia close to her nose, inhaling their scents as she slowly rocked back and forth.

You nodded, “Until tomorrow.”

#morgana x reader #morgana pendragon x reader #morgana imagine #morgana pendragon imagine #bbc merlin imagine

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royalcordelia · 3 years

Link

Summary: After returning home from medical school, Gilbert discovers that the neighbor girl, Anne, has gone missing. He won't rest until he's found her, even if it means taking a leap of faith and venturing into his father's old wardrobe. (A Narnia!AU).

Notes: Merry Christmas @londonsboy!! I was your secret santa this year and I was delighted to get to know you! Talking to you made me remember how wonderful Narnia is, and I realized that Anne of Green Gables and Narnia both have that same whimsical charm about them. I hope your holiday was cozy and lovely!

1: A Child’s Lore

Gilbert remembers the Storygirl. He remembers the red twists of hair braided down her thin shoulders, each tied with bowed ribbons. He remembers the monarch butterflies balancing gingerly on her freckled fingers and the dimples haloing each half of her smile. He remembers cloaking himself away under the shadows of the treeline and watching the girl move slowly through the tall grass. With care and ease, she urged the butterflies to amble onto a nearby flower.

“Would you care for a story?” she asked them. Gilbert remembers straining his ears to pick up any trace of her voice, tender and easy on his senses. “I won’t fault you if you fly away, but if you have a few moments to spare, I have such wonderful tales.” The butterflies remained in place, fluttering their wings slowly in the warm sunlight.

“Very well, a story you shall have!” continued the Storygirl. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Cordelia. Oh, but she didn’t start out that way. You see, for most of her life, Cordelia suffered the great calamities that all poor orphan girls do…”

Gilbert’s back slid down against the tree, somehow too captivated to tear his eyes away. He settled on the ground, pushing aside verdant brush to keep his sights on her. Never before had he taken himself as a fellow who enjoyed fairytales, yet something about this tale and her voice left him no choice but to listen. So he listened. He listened and listened until she whispered, “The end!” The blues of her eyes turned toward the trees straight at him as if she’d known he was there all along. And then, she ran off, disappearing into the heart of the valley forever.

He was only thirteen then, but he remembers.

Now, he keeps the memory of the Storygirl in the same place he stores the memory of his father’s wardrobe—deep in the parts of his mind full of things he’d seen as a child, but could never prove the existence of as an adult. Myths, legends, and fancies of a child’s imagination. There lives the memory of the Storygirl and the days of yore when his father’s wardrobe held clothes, evergreen trees, and sweet breezes.

Gilbert knows they’re not real. But sometimes he wishes they were.

2: A Silhouette

Avonlea is uncertain and strange when Gilbert finally returns home. As his carriage carries him through town, the heavy feeling sinks deeper into his chest. Where has that ethereal beauty of the island gone? It used to seep out of the red soil like petrichor, but now the air has lost its fragrant charm. Gilbert can’t help but feel as if maybe the magic PEI days of his youth had been but a childish whimsy, stripped away by inevitable adulthood.

Then, the hazy memory of the Storygirl returns and for a brief moment. Uninvited, but not unwelcome. Gilbert closes his eyes and lets himself recall the details of her face. There’s comfort in his own childhood myths, as if he is not so far gone, after all. And when he opens his eyes, he’s home.

From the doorway, it looks like a portrait—Sebastian frozen on the parlor sofa with low hung shoulders, Mary holding his head to her middle and caressing his bushy silk hair. Gilbert emerges from the blue shadows of the entryway.

He should announce himself properly. Perhaps attempt reentering with a wide smile and some kind of good news to brighten the mood. Instead, he hears himself say, “Who died?”

Mary tears away from Bash with a gasp, soaring over to the door to pull Gilbert’s face into the crook of her neck.

“Gilbert! Were you due home so soon?” she says after drawing a watery breath. “I think we’ve lost track of the days!”

“Yes. I’m on time down to the minute,” Gilbert replies with a smile. “Are you...going to answer my question?”

Mary’s brows knit together in confusion as she pulls away to examine the state of his face. Her fingers smooth over the frown lines at the corners of his own eyes, but it’s Bash who answers.

“No one died. At least, we really hope not,” he explains, distracting Gilbert from his vague answer by pulling Gilbert close for a hug of his own. “None of that for now. Take your coat and shoes off before someone starts to believe that this isn’t your own home.”

For the rest of the day, Gilbert tries to whittle out the truth from Bash at any opportunity he gets. At the lunch table, after recounting tales from college and his boring graduation ceremony. At the kitchen sink, elbow deep in sudsy water. At the foot of the garden, pulling weeds and sprinkling water onto thirsty soil. He tries again and again, but Bash does not budge.

When evening rolls around, it’s pull has already lulled Gilbert to sleep on the parlor sofa. Across from him, Mary stitches together a small hole in one of his old shirts until her own exhaustion makes her prick her finger.

“Can’t keep my eyes open a second longer,” she yawns. Depositing a kiss on Bash’s head, then Gilbert’s, she murmurs, “Don’t stay up too long. I want to keep looking in the morning.”

Bash lets a moment pass when he hears their door shut, waits a few seconds more, then crosses the room to where Gilbert is sprawled out on the sofa. The newly minted doctor stirs at the feeling of his brother shaking him awake.

“Mary’s gone to sleep. We can talk now.”

Gilbert’s eyelashes are heavy, but he pries them open at the stony tone of his brother’s voice and pushes himself to an upright position.

“So...What have you been hiding from me all day?”

Bash’s lips press together.

“Did you know the Cuthberts adopted a daughter?”

“No, I didn’t,” Gilbert replies, confused why it matters.

“They adopted her just before your father passed away, I heard. You went away to our steamer, then straight to college, so you never had a chance to meet her. But when you sent me and Mary to this house, she was here waiting for us. Someone had told her that she’d be getting new neighbors, neighbors that might face the same sort of hardships she did when she first arrived. She showed us around Avonlea, helped Mary clean the house after being empty so long. Her name is Anne. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.”

“Did something...happen to her? Do you need me to see her?”

“You can’t,” Bash spits bitterly. Then, remembering himself, he says, “She’s not sick.”

“I don’t understand, then.”

Bash sighs, balling his fists in his lap.

“Mary and I went to visit her son in Charlottetown for an afternoon last week. Anne offered to come and give everything a good cleaning while we were gone, as a neighborly gift or something. We tried to tell her that it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. She’s not one to lose battles. She arrived a few hours past dawn, but when we came back, she was gone. Then we found out she never went home to Green Gables. No one in Avonlea has seen her in over a week.”

Suddenly, it makes sense to Gilbert why the house is weighty with the feeling of loss . It has lost something. Gilbert doesn’t know this Anne, but whoever she is, she took the island’s light with her.

“What do you think happened?” Gilbert asks, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes.

“Someone broke in. Found a woman all by herself with no one around for miles. You can imagine the rest.” Bash holds his fist with his other hand, as if he might hit something if he lets go. “Anne is...a unique woman. Kind and brave. But to Avonlea she is strange and of varlet stock, and with the way they see Mary and I… Only a few families have been willing to help us look for her. Would you? In the morning? You know Avonlea better than us.”

Gilbert doesn’t hesitate.

“I will.”

3: A Recollection

It just doesn’t add up, Gilbert thinks bitterly, splashing cold water on his tired cheeks. His reflection stares back at him, looking just as dejected as he feels. But what else could there be? I’ve already scoured the house. No signs of a struggle. Nothing broken or stolen. Guess I’ll just have to look just as hard in town. See if anyone knows anything. He scoffs. It sounds like something out of a children’s book. A fair maiden walks into a house that swallows her up whole. Too bad I’m a doctor and not a knight. He means it only in jest, but it sparks the flame of an idea in the farthest corner of his mind—the corner containing his childhood and its fanciful inventions.

And then, there it is. A memory, a reminiscence of sorts.

One wardrobe.

One door drawn open.

One small Gilbert Blythe crawling into it.

He couldn’t have been more than six or seven when it’d happened, nor can he remember why he’d even ventured into the wardrobe in the first place. Perhaps it had been a particularly clever hideaway in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Or maybe his father had sent him in search of his coat and something had tipped him off that there was more.

The memory itself is relatively uneventful. Little Gilbert opened the wardrobe door, crawled in, and somehow, miraculously tripped into a bank of snow. The bank of snow was only a mere plot of land in a world Little Gilbert was not brave enough to explore. He’d scurried back to the door, but left it cracked open for just a moment longer to memorize the world he’d found. It left an image in his mind that he carried with him forever, a memory just as fond as that of the Storygirl—a patch of evergreen trees, sweet air, and an impossible winter magic.

Let’s pretend for a moment this memory is actually a memory and not just a childish imagination, Gilbert ponders. If Anne came to clean the house, maybe she opened the wardrobe to clean it and organize it. Could she have fallen in? Maybe she’s lost! Maybe she has no way home and—

Dr. Blythe, get a hold of yourself. Exhaustion has made you mad.

You’ll assist Bash in the morning, you’ll question the town’s people, you’ll come to the bottom of this. But you won’t be able to find her by courting such preposterous ideas.

4: An Act of Trust

His resolve lasts an entire hour.

Then it dissolves hopelessly and gives way to the memory of the Wardrobe-world. Pacing in front of his father’s bed, Gilbert weighs whether or not he should indulge his childhood suspicions. It plays over and over in his mind, a frustrating possibility.

At first, he fights it.

If Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is really as headstrong as the Bash has described her to be, then perhaps she left on her volition, tired of small-island life. It can’t be that hard to believe that a woman could abandon a monotonous past in favor of whatever this young century has to offer her. Gilbert’s very last suspicion should be that Anne somehow found a magical world inside a wardrobe and never returned. Yet, here he is, nudging his foot along the carved trim of the wardrobe with an itching to open it .

Damn it all. What is there to lose?

Then he does open it. The hinges of the doors screech after being left to sleep, untouched for a decade. At first, it smells of mothballs and the stale smell of his father’s clothes. But seconds later, there’s a hint of sweet—

Gilbert slams the door shut. Absolutely not, he scolds himself. You’re hallucinating. You want this woman to return so badly that you’ll pretend she’s anywhere but dead in a ditch. But then again … Gilbert turns back to the door, placing his hand on the newly dusted wood. Who would know if he indulged in this wild feeling? Shouldn’t he, a trained doctor and an intelligent man, listen to his own gut?

Alright , he decides. If he’s going to do this, he isn’t going to do it halfway.

With a short breath, he draws the door open and closes his eyes shut. Then, he’s crawling in, a grown man squeezed into the tight confines of a wooden closet. It’s difficult to breathe above the heavy smell of age and wool, but just like before, it slips away into an unexpected sweetness. Gilbert crawls closer to it, hands and knees finding new space with every pace forward. Behind him, the wardrobe door is abandoned and opened, but Gilbert doesn’t come back out.

Instead, his fingers find tall, soft grass and his intuition cries in victory.

5: A Twinless Shoe

Gilbert allows himself exactly ten seconds to sit and stare at the pleasant forest clearing before doing what any logical doctor might do in his situation—secede to the visual proof of a magical world and promptly begin observations.

On a first glance, the impossible world-inside-the-wardrobe doesn’t seem all too different than his Avonlea. There are clusters of trees surrounding the clearing, each crowned with vibrant shades of green, moreso than those of home. A mystical softness teems in the air like a breeze, loitering along his skin until he is a mess of goosebumps. A single lamppost towers over him catching sunlight, unlit but clean of moss or dirt. At its base, a leather boot, dainty and slim.

Something clears its throat, propelling Gilbert’s soul from his body at the shock of it. He whirls around, grass stains on the knees of his trousers. Before him, sits a trio of white-tailed foxes, peering at him with more expression than should be allowed for such creatures. Gilbert tries to steady his pulse but finds the effort unsuccessful.

“They’re only foxes,” he reasons with himself. “They make all sorts of strange noises. No cause for alarm.”

“That’s a foolish delusion,” the largest of the foxes answers.

Gilbert blinks. The fox quirks an invisible brow.

“I beg your pardon?” Gilbert stammers.

The fox stretches, equal parts annoyed and bored.

“With the types of humans that are supposed to stumble out of that door, you think you’d have a firmer head on your shoulders. Wonder what Aslan chose you for?”

“I dunno, Rambleleaf. Maybe he’s here for entertainment?” the second fox pipes in. Turning her sunbright amber eyes to him, she asks, “Do you sing? Dance? Tell stories?”

“That is what he brought Anne for,” the third fox adds. “Maybe one storyteller wasn’t enough.”

“I have a hard time believing that this schmuck could tell stories as well as Anne could,” Rambleleaf counters.

“Anne’s here ?” Gilbert spits out, desperate. The conversation between the foxes dies out as quickly as it started, replaced by a stunned silence. They exchange a glance, as if deciding whether or not to indulge this fumbling fool in Anne’s whereabouts, but Gilbert is desperate. “Is Anne Shirley-Cuthbert here? I’m told she has red hair and freckles.”

“You...you speak as if you don’t know her?” Rambleleaf queries, eyes narrow.

“Not personally,” stammers Gilbert. He clambers to his feet and rushes to the foxes, who jolt but don’t shy away. It seems as if he has surprised them, as if they’ve never had a human kneel so desperately before them. “We’ve been looking everywhere for her, trying not to fear the worst. Her parents are friends of mine. They’re worried sick because one day she left to visit my family’s home and never returned. Please , will you take me to her. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“How did you know to look here?” Rambleleaf states, unconvinced. Gilbert can give them no answer, but the truth.

“A feeling. I once came once here as a boy and remembered it, though I can’t say I know where here is.”

Rambleleaf ponders this, his tail coming up to the underside of his chin, like a hand scratching at whiskers. His eyes trail to the boot underneath the lamppost, then fall undecidedly on the poor fellow before him.

When finally he says something, it’s—“Who are you?”

“Me? Oh, um, I’m Dr. Gilbert Blythe.”

“Well, Dr. Gilbert sir, I’m Rambleleaf, or just Ramble if you’re nice about it. Welcome to Narnia.” The name Narnia sends a warm thrill down Gilbert’s spine to finally hear it. The existence of it is already enough cause for hope. Rambleleaf nudges Gilbert’s hand with a clawless paw and points over to the single boot laying sideways in the grass. “You’re in luck. We’re good friends of Anne’s. She sent us back to find the shoe she left behind, so if you want to see her, you can follow us back to the Larsack village. It’s not far from here. Just a bit north on the west border of the Western Woods.”

“I’ll follow you,” Gilbert decides resolutely.

“Good. Then grab that boot and we’ll be on our way.”

Gilbert does as he’s told, pushing aside the frustration of being told what to do by a fox. With the shoe in his possession, he curses that he didn’t think to bring any sort of satchel or carrier case. Then again, he isn’t supposed to be here long. Just long enough to find Anne and bring her home.

Then, without wasting another moment, the foxes disappear in the wood, leaving Gilbert to follow.

And he does, the door to his father’s wardrobe entirely, completely forgotten.

6: A Duet

They trek through the thicket of the forest until the soles of Gilbert’s feet have grown sore at the unfamiliar terrain beneath them. Having left his pocket watch sitting on his desk back home, Gilbert can’t be sure of how much time has passed—enough certainly for the foxes to have eased their snide opinion of him. He finds they like to listen, asking Gilbert all sorts of questions but offering no answers of their own.

As it turns out, Gilbert is not so bad a storyteller, after all.

“—but children believe in magic the way adults in my world don’t. So I told the little girl that the cure for her stomachache was a feather on the underside of her toes and all her laughter made her forget that she had eaten too many biscuits. Sometimes I think medicine has more possibilities than we can know. Certainly being here has…”

Gilbert slows to a stop and turns his ear to the sky. He draws in a quick breath of hope at the faint lilt of laughter, music, and one rich voice towering above it all.

He takes off running, hopping over Rambleleaf and sprinting down the path. A crowd’s cheers and the minstrel songs grow closer and louder with each wide stride. He all but crashes into someone at the back of the crowd, scanning the clearing for a head of red hair and a face of sandy freckles. There are a few tents set up along the circle of the crowd, and in between them must be a hundred people sitting and standing, all with their attention locked on one person. From the back, Gilbert finds his view obstructed by some particularly tall Narnians. Just as he begins to plan a route through the mass of people, a soft paw nudges his ankle.

“You’re just in time to hear her speak,” Rambleleaf says at his feet. “Can you lift me up so I don’t get stepped on? I want to see this too.” Gilbert kneels, allowing Ramble to hop onto his shoulder before embarking into the crowd, drawing closer and closer to the makeshift stage.

And then he sees her and all the pieces of his mangled heart slant together, restoring it in one, breathless moment.

“The Storygirl, ” Gilbert heaves quietly.

“That’s what we’ve taken to calling her here, too,” Ramble says.

His Storygirl hasn’t changed a bit. There are still halos crowning her smile and kingdoms of possibilities in her eyes. But the young dreamer and commander of words Gilbert had seen in the fields all those years had grown so tall and beautiful that he had no words left for himself—only a fiery warmth and an insatiable desire to talk to her.

“That’s Anne there?” Gilbert whispers to Ramble.

“Unmistakable, right?” Ramble murmurs back.

“I’m going to get closer.”

“Oh, good! I can’t hear from all the way over here,” Rambleleaf agrees, nudging Gilbert with his nose.

Gilbert collides with a few shoulders and elbows as he passes through, but only because he cannot tear his eyes away from her. He feels like the thirteen-year-old lad with weak knees and a pining heart all over again. When they’ve reached the makeshift stage, Ramble waves his tale to the Storygirl. The flash of white catches her attention and through the next words of her tale, she gives a dimpled smile and nod.

Then her eyes fall on Gilbert and her tongue stumbles. He watches her gaze travel from his heart-struck eyes, to his Avonlea clothes, to her boot in his hand. Anne chuckled and extended her bootless foot. Gilbert blinked down at it, the “Doctor” part of his mind wondering if she wanted him to examine it.

“The boot, Gilbert,” Ramble hisses in his ear.

“Oh! ”

Anne continues to keep the crowd enraptured in her tale even as Gilbert slides the boot over her lacy stockings and ties the laces. When he’s finished, she bends low to him and whispers, “Care to help me with my story?”

“Me ?” Gilbert chokes.

“Yes, Gilbert Blythe. You .”

A shiver shoots like a flash of summer lightning down his back. How does she know my name? Gilbert’s mind wonders on repeat. He feels himself nod, only to be swept up onto the stage with her strong hands a second later. She offers Ramble a hand down, pressing a kiss to the top of his fur, then turns back to Gilbert.

“Play along!” she murmurs quietly.

Gilbert nods once more, turning nervous eyes to the crowd of onlookers. Beside him, Anne shoots back into her carefully woven tale.

“It would’ve been easy for Cordelia to resign herself to the fate everyone wanted for her. But could she submit herself to everyday mundanities? Milking cows and pulling weeds? She could see the honor in these tasks, but somehow knew that her destiny laid elsewhere. She turned to a neighboring lad and asked him his thoughts.”

Anne grabs Gilbert’s fingers and poses her body as if engaged in a conversation with him. Her tongue stills, and she urges Gilbert to take the next few lines.

“Well, er…” Get it together, Blythe. He takes a deep breath. “The neighbor lad assured her that she bore enough heart and talent to succeed at any task she put her mind to. That it wasn’t a matter of finding her destiny, but...creating it? For herself.”

Anne smiles. Gilbert feels it thrum pleasantly behind his ribs.

“Cordelia asked the neighbor lad if he would help her find the better feelings of her heart, the truth behind her soul and desires.”

“He agreed,” Gilbert says resolutely. “Because the lad had already traveled across the world to find her. What was another journey?”

7. A Pair at Tea

“You must tell me how you managed to find me!” Anne exclaims, pouring sweet tea into two small stone goblets. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, and Gilbert wonders if it’s the reason for the raspberry, rose smell of her.

Gilbert hasn’t quite shaken the timid nervousness. This is how he imagines he might feel if he were engaged in conversation with the King of England—only Anne is much more beautiful, even if she is just as intimidating. His eyes follow her hands as she hands him his tea, and he accepts the offering as something to occupy himself with.

He ignores her question. For now, at least.

“How...how do you know my name?”

Anne smiles into her goblet.

“I’ve dusted your photograph hundreds of times helping Mary clean your home. You’re often all she can talk about when we’re polishing the silver or scrubbing windows.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. I know plenty about you, Dr. Blythe.”

“Just Gilbert is fine,” he hums, cheeks warm. Then his eyes dim and he stares at his own reflection in his tea. “What sorts of things do you know?”

Anne ponders this for a moment. Her fingers twist strands of hair into a gentle braid as she speaks, “I know that we just missed each other when we were children. That you left the island the same winter I arrived. I know that you’re the golden boy of Avonlea, and that all the mothers have been counting down the days until your return to marry their daughters to you. I know you won a prestigious scholarship that allowed you an excellent medical education. Congratulations by the way. I know—”

“ Alright !” Gilbert coughed. “I almost feel ashamed that I know barely anything about you. Only that you’re selflessly kind, a legendary master of storytelling, and that you’re unearthly beautiful.”

Roses flourish her cheeks in lovely shades of red. Gilbert bites his lip to keep from smiling.

“Anything you’d want to know, you only need ask. I’m an open book.”

“Then may I ask what it is you’re doing here?” Gilbert begins carefully. “The Cuthberts are worried sick. Bash and Mary, too. We all thought something terrible had happened to you.”

“Terrible? Why? I’ve only been gone nearly a day. I’ve disappeared for longer periods of time into Charlottetown to visit friends.”

Gilbert blinks.

“Anne, you’ve been missing for over a week. You came over to help clean the house a whole week ago.”

Her face shoots up to him.

“You must be mistaken. This isn’t my first time visiting Narnia. Time travels more quickly here than it does in Avonlea. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“All I know is what I’ve been told.”

Anne rises from the table, a hand over her mouth.

“A week? But...but how did you know where to find me?”

It’s Gilbert’s turn to blush, but he answers honestly.

“I think I accidentally stumbled upon Narnia as a boy, but always thought it was a dream or an imagination. When you went missing at my house, I just had this...feeling I couldn’t shake. I’m still having a hard time believing it, to be honest.”

“For a man of science, I think you are doing admirably,” Anne says warmly. “I admit, I stumbled here in a similar way. I was going to wash your fathers old things because they’d grown so dusty, but I tripped into the wardrobe.”

“That’s kind of you. To take care of my father’s things, I mean. Especially when you weren’t acquainted with him.”

“Mary told me he meant a lot to you,” Anne answers easily. “Besides, you’re a man now. I thought you might like to wear some of his things to help keep his memory closer by. I know I wish I could. Wear my mother’s dresses, that is.”

“Oh,” Gilbert frowns. “I apologize. I’d forgotten you’d lost your family too.”

“An unhappy sort of thing to have in common with someone, I’ll admit,” Anne replies, a sad smile on her lips. “But you and I both have our makeshift families now. And this new little friendship of ours. That brings me to this question, though, Gilbert. How long do you plan on staying?”

“How long do you plan to stay?” Gilbert replies, heart catching speed in his chest.

“For the duration of the match,” Anne replies, as if it were obvious.

“The...match?”

“Ramble didn’t tell you? There’s a Storytelling Match that’s taking place right now. Whomever can spin the best tale will get to tell a story to Aslan, the King of Narnia.”

“Ramble did say something about Aslan bringing you here for entertainment.”

“That’s only a guess,” Anne corrects warmly. “I’d like to win the match and meet Aslan, and then I plan to return home.”

Gilbert isn’t sure what to say next. The right thing to do is return home and explain as best he can the truth behind Anne’s disappearance. At the very least, fabricate some lie that assures everyone of her safety and inevitable return home.

But to his surprise, he finds he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to witness this storytelling match, support Anne and witness her victory. Maybe what Anne said about time in Narnia is right, after all. If they stay in Narnia for a while longer, perhaps it will be like no time has passed at all.

“Will you stay, Gilbert?” Anne asks quietly. “I know you’ve just met me and that we’re barely acquaintances. I won’t fault you if you return back home to your patients and to our families. But…”

“But?” Gilbert whispers hopefully.

“But if you’d like to stay for a while and explore Narnia with me, I would welcome the company. In fact, I’d be glad for it.”

“I’m so newly home that I don’t quite have patients yet,” Gilbert says offhandedly, mulling the idea over in his mind. “And there’s no guarantee that if I leave that I’ll ever be able to come back and see you. To make sure you’re alright.”

“There’s not,” Anne agrees, eyes glimmering with warm light.

He surprises himself with what he says next.

“Then I’ll stay.”

#anne of green gables #anne with an e #shirbert #shirbert fic #tessa writes #the truth always comes out in the tags and the truth is this #this was very hard to write #which is why it's a bit late #but i gave it 110%!!#so i hope you all enjoy it just the same #merry christmas and happy holidays to you all #i send all my love! <3

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collecting-stories · 4 years

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Enchanted - Gilbert Blythe

Request: Okay great! Can I request a Gilbert blythe x reader when they’re dating but then reader sees Anne and Gilbert having a friendly hug and she misinterprets it as something else and Gilbert tries to apologize. in the end they make up and it’s all fluff?

A/N: Based off Gilbert Blythe from the Netflix adaptation Anne With An E.

\\\

The train ride in from Toronto was both longer and shorter than you wanted it to be. Gilbert sat beside you, fiddling with the cufflinks on his jacket sleeves as the train jostled along toward Avonlea. There had been a ferry ride from Halifax as well. The summer was setting in and Gilbert had asked you to come to Avonlea with him to meet his business partner and housemate Bash and Bash’s daughter Delphine.

“Ever since my father died, they’ve been my family.” Gilbert had explained.

There were other people he had mentioned as well. Friends from school, Moody, Diana, a girl called Ruby who had been obsessed with him in her youth.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, but Moody’s told me in great detail.” A whole anthology of his life had been shared with you since September.

And then there were the Cuthberts. He mentioned Marilla and her brother Matthew, both having been good to him when his father passed. But most of all he spoke of Anne. Close friends and rivals throughout their years together, she seemed to be the antidote to every story he told. The heroine in all his tales of the Island. And while you were excited to meet her, you would have been lying to say that you were also terrified. Who was this Anne and how could you compare to someone as magnanimous as her?

You weren’t sure if the knowledge that you would be staying with the Cuthberts made it worse or better. He had written to Anne to ask if you could board there for the summer while you visited him, a mark of a serious courtship surely, but still you couldn’t find yourself totally calm during the ride.

“Are the Cuthberts meeting us at the station?” You chanced to ask, realizing that you weren’t entirely sure what was going to happen once you arrived in Avonlea.

When Gilbert had asked you to come home with him for the summer you had been surprised and, though you hated to admit it, a tad bit reluctant. You and Gilbert had met through a friend of a friend way back in September at the beginning of the school. Both students from small towns who had excelled. Both formerly betrothed, though you more than he, who had rebelled against the prospect of a richer future in the interest of an educated, self-fulfilling future. A rather progressive woman, in action and speech more than trend, like so many of the women who had been present in his life before.

“I’m not entirely sure how I should go about this,” he had started, already proving himself to be clueless when it came to courting, “I’ve been to tea before and I’m sad to say I’ve forgotten all the rules.” The easy smile made up for his forgetfulness.

You could hardly remember either, getting lost in the romantic nature of his eyes that Ruby and Anne had both experienced in his early school days. “It’s quite alright, surely between the two of us we can navigate.”

And so you did. Navigate. Through the beginnings of a relationship and the beginning of college. It was odd, to find someone who so championed your education and put priority on the finishing of college before anything else. You expected him to treat the relationship casually then, just friends who knew that they liked each other. But he didn’t. He was serious about it and, as such, invited you to visit for the summer.

“I can’t wait for you to see Avonlea.” Gilbert mentioned, eyes fixed on the passing landscape.

“I’m looking forward to it.” And you were. Spending more time with Gilbert, seeing where he was from, meeting the people he considered part of his family. That all sounded spectacular to you.

The train arrived in Avonlea a short time later. Gilbert exited before you in search of the luggage.

“It’s never where they say it will be.”

You stood, waiting for him, on the platform. You’d taken plenty of trains in your lifetime but somehow stepping onto the platform in Avonlea felt different. It was as if you were a child again, riding for the first time, nervous of your surroundings and unsure who to ask for help. It was all very overwhelming and in an instant, the bustling crowd had seemed to swallow Gilbert up, his figure disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. You considered calling out to him. Should you chance him realizing that you were having the most pathetic of panic attacks.

Off to a good start in Avonlea.

Through the smog and the voices for the crowd your ears caught the distinctive sound of an accent, one native to an island, calling Gilbert’s name. You remembered his stories about his business partner and practical brother Bash and decided the Gilbert being called was yours. Heading through the smoke you arrived on the other side to find a small gathering of people, Gilbert at the front of them. You had come through in just enough time to see a young woman with long red hair hug him. A much friendlier hug then you would have expected someone to give, even with small town etiquette not being as reserved as the city.

But you recognized that redhead immediately, regardless of never having seen her before. It was Anne, it had to be. The Anne that Gilbert had talked about from school. The Anne that he corresponded with.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry I was just coming to get you.” Gilbert’s hand at your wrist and his sincere apology carried you back to the reality of the platform. You were standing there, center of attention now.

“Quite alright.” You smiled, filing the uneasiness away for later. You would be upset when you were alone. Though would you truly be alone? You were to stay with Anne after all.

“Let me introduce you.” And just like that Gilbert was going through the odd, makeshift family that he had assembled. You were hugged by Anne as well, and nearly everyone else. Bash teased that there would be plenty of appraising done that night over dinner though you seemed to win him over quite easily when you offered to hold Delphine during the ride back to Gilbert’s farm.

Try as you might the carriage ride home filled you with dread. Even Delphine couldn’t distract you from the tortuous thoughts in your head. Had you come all this way to Prince Edward Island with Gilbert only to have him tell you he loved another. And what if he never told you, what if he just continued on, in some elaborate rouse where you were his intended (something he had made perfectly clear before proposing the idea of PEI) but he was thinking of someone else. Someone who had leagues more history with him than you could every accumulate.

The first stop, once the carriage had arrived outside of the Blythe family farm, was the tour. While Bash took Delphine inside Gilbert took you along the grounds. Your hand was tucked in the crook of his elbow as he walked you about, pointing out parts of the land and supplying humorous antidotes to accompany the visuals.

“And here Anne,” he began, telling the third story in a row that featured his redheaded best friend.

“You have a lot of stories about Anne.”

“I suppose so.”

“More than anyone else.” You continued on. You were no longer on the train platform or in the carriage. You wouldn’t stay a moment longer to be second fiddle to Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, however charming she had already proven herself to be.

“I...hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, unfortunately,” you took your hand back, here in the orchard grove, “I have. I didn’t come all the way from Toronto to be humiliated Gilbert.”

He looked rightfully confused. Everything until now had felt perfectly normal between the two of you. He’d hadn’t sensed the change in attitude, in fact it had come out of nowhere to hit him in the gut. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Don’t you? I make a world of excuses for your correspondence with another woman, knowing how much Anne means to you but then we arrive here and it feels as if I've been making those excuses to myself as well. Have I? Am I so delusional to think that it’s only friendship you feel for her?” You confessed, thinking back to the hug at the platform. The way she had thrown her arms around him in excitement.

“Anne and I are just friends. I’ve told you that.” Gilbert replied.

“Why don’t I feel like that?”

“Avonlea is my home and the people here are my family. I love and care for them all deeply. And that’s why I wanted to bring you here. So you could know them too and so you could consider if, maybe, in the future, you could make Avonlea your home too. I love you, and I meant what I said before we came out here. I want a future with you, a family with you, and I want us to make a home. Here, if you could see yourself here.” Gilbert said, concern marring his features. Had he not been clear?

You crossed your arms and turned your head away, looking out passed the rolling fields of the farm. What could you say? You loved him too. The thought of starting a family with him here, on this island, was a wonderful thought and you wanted nothing more than to be part of his life.

“Once, when I was much younger, I admit I felt something toward Anne but we’re only friends. She’s been a big part of my life since she came to Avonlea and helped me become the person I am. A person who loves you. Who would never hurt you. Please, you have to believe me. Anne is my friend but you and I...you’re the person I imagine spending the rest of my life with.” Gilbert continued.

“I love you as well...I guess I’m just nervous to be here. To meet your family and friends and know them.” You admitted, looking back at him. Gilbert looked near heartbreak, his usual bright eyes a sad, drowning, blue.

“They love you already, trust me.”

“I really do like Anne...I think we would be great friends.” You had heard certain parts of her letters read allowed when he found bits funny or was reminded of something you might have said. You had thought that she sounded like she could become a good friend of yours, someone you could rely on here in Avonlea and you had looked forward to meeting. “I think I’m just so nervous I made myself jealous.”

“There is nothing to be jealous of.” Gilbert reassured. “Shall we finish the tour?”

“Please? I want to see everything before dinner.” You replied, taking the arm he offered once more. You looked back around the orchard one more time, “are we alone?”

“Bash is at the house with Delly.”

With that knowledge you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Alright, show me the rest of this enchanted island.” You said, using Anne’s words from earlier. Enchanted. You imagined this summer would be.

I imagined this being done yesterday but my youngest sister decided to give me a minor panic attack and I spent most of the day freaking out when I meant to be writing.

#Gilbert Blythe x reader #Gilbert Blythe imagine #Gilbert Blythe fanfic #Gilbert Blythe fanfiction #AnnE imagine #AnnE fanfic #AnnE fanfiction #Anne with a e fanfic #Anne with an e fanfiction #Anne with an e imagine #collecting stories imagine

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