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samthemarvelfan · 4 years

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You Found Me: One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: A bit of angst and then the squishiest fluff. Mama likes her happy endings, y’all ;)

A/N: I wrote this in an hour and i have no idea where this idea came from lol enjoy! <3

The metal of the chair was as cold as the room. They liked to keep it cold to help him acclimate to being thawed out.

Again.

He sat with perfect posture and waited. What was he waiting for? He didn’t know. He never knew, he wasn’t the one in charge here.

“Soldat.”

He was greeted by a Doctor—at least he looked like a doctor...had the lab coat and everything.

The doctor held a folder out to the him. “Extraction. No witnesses. Eliminate as needed and return to base. Understood?”

Soldat nodded. “Understood.”

He walked with a purpose. He walked like he knew where he was going; like he’d been here before.

The streets were flooded with people. Why wouldn’t they be? It was high-noon on a warm autumn day in New York City.

He didn’t have to look unassuming here, the people didn’t care. He liked that about this place, no one bothered anyone else unless they had a good reason.

And even then, they often didn’t.

About two blocks from the park, the wind shifted, blowing East. Normal, expected; especially with the seasons changing. On his next inhale, he caught the scent of something mouthwatering. Something savory—no, sweet. Buttery too, something he could practically taste on his tongue. Something almost familiar.

He ignored it though, of course he did. His mind and body were on autopilot at this point. Sanction. Extract. Eliminate if necessary.

He looked at the sign that showed the location he was in the park, he was here. Right on to of it—on top of her.

Scanning the field, he spotted her immediately. She was stood on the bridge above the tunnel connecting the two sides of the park. Not an easy escape if she tried it. She’d hit water if she ran left, and the busy New York streets if she ran right.

She’s never going to see it coming...see him.

He rounded the bridge on the city side. If she ran, he’d rather the water be an ally in eliminating the target, instead of the messiness of a car.

Her back was to him while she talked on the phone. She was so unassuming, smiling even, then she laughed.

He froze. Soldat froze. It was like the air had been snatched from his lungs. She laughed again, and suddenly time stood still. His brain fogged with different images. All accompanied by that sound, by that laugh.

He stumbled. The Winter Soldier actually stumbled. “No.” He groaned, closing his eyes tightly and rubbing them with his palms. Another image, accompanied by a feeling. Warmth, elation, safety. Still faceless, but all real and true.

“I’m gonna go, I’ll see you tonight.” He heard her say into the phone. “I love you.”

His heart pounded. Loud, rhythmic thumping in his chest and ears. Another picture floats into his mind...

It’s you.

It comes in flashes at first, like the shuttering of an old film. In a bed, with him. You’re saying the exact same words while you stroke his beard. “I love you, Bucky. I love you.”

Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky? He thinks.

He’s a few steps from you now, four at most. Then he smells something else, something he recognizes immediately—it’s you.

Another chord struck within him, another memory invading the assassins mind.

“James, I cant do this anymore! You leave for days on end, and I never know if I’ll see you again.” You cried.

“Sugar, I’ll always come home to you. I promise.” He reaches for you and pulled you in closed, inhaling your scent.

“What if you don’t? What if they find you?” Tears coat your cheeks.

He shook his head, “No one can keep me from you. No one, I’ll always come back, I’ll always find you.”

You sniffle agains his chest, tightening your grip on him like you’re afraid he’ll float away. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, doll. You won’t.”

He shakes his head. “Stop it.” He curses to himself, but it was too late. You’d heard him.

It’s was like everything moved in slow motion. You turned around, eyes wide, like you were staring at a ghost.

“J-J...Bucky?” You call, almost in disbelief at your own words.

He was frozen, you—whoever you were, weren’t supposed to know him. He doesn’t even know himself, why would you?

“No.” He said roughly.

You shook your head and looked down. “They got you. They got you and now you’re here for me.”

“Yes.” What more could he say?

You look back to him, piercing eyes boring into his, “Will it hurt?”

The soldier looked confused, “Will what hurt?” He asks.

You sniffled, “When you kill me, James.”

A punch to the gut. That’s what your words felt like...why? Why did they feel this way? You were a target, a mission. Just another mission.

He swallowed hard. “No.”

And he means it. It will be quick, he’d make sure of it. You weren’t made for suffering, and by the circles under your eyes, you’d been suffering enough.

You nod, accepting your fate, and close your eyes. Bucky takes a step towards you.

“Now, Tony! Now!” You shout, eyes still closed.

Before he knew what was happening, he was grabbing at the sharp pain stinging in his neck.

The last thing he saw was your face, then the world went black.

The beeping wakes him.

Looking down, Bucky sees the wires and tubes connected to the machine next to him.

A hospital. He thinks.

Scooting back, he groans as the muscles that surely haven’t been used for a while protest, and ache.

He tossed his head back against the pillow.

Remember. Remember something...anything.

“You’re awake.”

The melody of your voice brings an immediate calm to him. He sits up, ignoring the pain.

“Relax, you must be hurting. Here,” you held out the cup, “Drink this, it’ll help.”

He looked from you to the mug for a moment, hesitating.

You sigh, putting it in his nightstand, then placing a hand over his. “You’re safe here, Bucky. I promise.”

And he believes you.

“Wh-where am I?” He asks, a voice sounding like he’s swallowed gravel.

You once again hand him the mug, and he sips it eagerly. Tea. He thought. I like tea.

“You’re at a facility in Upstate New York.” You said calmly.

“Why...how did I get here?” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“You needed help. You were being held hostage by HYDRA. Tony...Tony Stark helped me find you. He helped me save you, Buck.”

Stark. Stark. Stark...Howard Stark. December...cold. A crash, the accident...the blood.

“No one here is going to hurt you. They’re helping you, I swear it. They’ve been helping me look for you for the last five years, they never stopped.” Your voice was shaking now. “Dr. Banner developed something, you’ve been sedated for about a week. He’s hoping it will fill the gaps in your memory. A serum of sorts.”

Great. Bucky thinks, Just what I need, another serum.

“And you?” He asked softly, not wanting to upset you more. “Who are you?”

You let out a defeated sigh, he watched you, seeing the pain on your face. Before you could speak, he cut you off.

“I know you, or...my mind knows you. My body. I have all these memories filled with your face. Who are you...to me?”

You look a bit more relieved. “I...I’m...it��s hard to explain—“

James put his hand over yours this time. “Try me, Doll.”

Doll. It came out so naturally, and without inhibitions that it didn’t take a brainiac to know who you were. Not wholly, but he felt it.

He saw the goosebumps on your skin, “I’ve loved you forever, James Buchanan Barnes. There was a time you loved me, too.”

Bucky felt a warmth spread through his chest. It climbed his throat, invading his brain and bursting into fireworks of memories. All vivid and sparkling and bright.

Your name comes out as a whisper at first; so soft you truly didn’t know if you’d imagined it.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, that’s me, baby. That’s me.” You sit next to him, and cup his face in your hands.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing the information to show up.

“Sokovia...they got me in Sokovia. I didn’t...I didn’t keep my promise.” James felt his throat tighten.

“Wh-what promise?” You asked. He opened his eyes and saw the tears pooling in yours.

“I didn’t come home to you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sugar.” James cried. For the first time in years, he was crying...feeling.

He knew he loved you. That much was clear. His mind was still in shambles and he knew that too.

“Yes you did. You found me again, I’ve been on HYDRA’s radar for years trying to get them to send you after me. I knew you were coming for me, so I had everything on standby waiting to get you out of there.” You were proud of yourself, he heard it in your voice. Hell, he was proud of you too.

Bucky sniffled, “My girl took down HYDRA. Damn, I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” He laughed.

Your hand cupped his cheek, the warms bringing so much comfort to him. “I love you, Buck.”

Bucky cupped your face in return, “I love you, too.”

He was nervous, but he leaned in anyway. The kiss was soft and gentle. The feeling of the two of you melding into one was more familiar than anything.

When you pulled away, Bucky kissed your closed eyes. Something he remembers doing a thousand times before.

“What do we do now?” He asked.

“Steve’s on his way. I have a feeling we’re going on a bit of a trip.” You say smiling.

Bucky smiles, grateful he remembers Steve. “A trip? Where to, Doll?”

You smirk and kiss his nose. “To see another old friend of yours—in Wakanda.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

He makes a mental note to give Bobby a talk later, when he’s feeling better, about hiding stuff like this—and then maybe he’ll give Luke and Alex (and himself) a talk about whatever they did to make Bobby feel like he has to.

We need Reggie yelling at the boys to be better friends to Bobers PLEASe

ok so this took forever and also it's not actually Reggie yelling at Luke and Alex, it's Reggie yelling at Bobby.... but I tried like four different versions of this and I'm actually really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy!

This takes place in my All Too Well Splinterverse. It's a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, but it takes place after the events of cause there we are again in the middle of the night, so be aware of spoilers/confusion if you haven't read both of those.

read on ao3 here:

Gathering up his courage, Reggie knocks on the door.

“Come in!” a voice calls, hoarse and stuffy, followed by a round of harsh coughs.

Reggie hesitates again, curling his hands into fists around the straps of his backpack. Maybe this was a mistake, he starts to think. Maybe he should’ve waited a little longer, waited for a better time to do this. Maybe he should’ve just left the stuff he brought in the studio and gone home without making any actual conversation…

But he made it all the way here… he can’t back down now. So he takes a deep breath, swallows back his nerves, and pushes the door open.

Bobby’s sitting up in bed, propped up against three or four pillows, a blanket over his legs and another around his shoulders. He looks tired—like, more tired than Bobby always looks, which is saying something—and his hair is all mussed up, his nose cherry red, his cheeks flushed in contrast to his waxy skin.

He’s sick, all right. Sicker than he was a week ago, the last time Reggie saw him when they were helping Luke with his discharge from the hospital. Being sick doesn’t make Bobby any less attractive, though, which Reggie should really not be thinking about right now.

“Reg!” Bobby croaks, placing the steaming mug he’s holding on the nightstand. He clears his throat and swipes a wrist under his nose, sniffling as he turns back to Reggie with a thin smile. “Hey, man, what are you doing here?”

Reggie blinks, forgetting for a second what he is doing here. But then he remembers and shakes his head a little, scrambling to get his backpack off and unzipping it. “Oh, um. Your mom let me in. I brought…” With some difficulty, he yanks out a packet of papers stuffed at the top of his pack. “...your homework!”

“Gee, thanks,” Bobby mutters sarcastically. He sniffles again and rubs his nose, nodding at the desk by the door. “You can just leave them there, thanks, man.”

Reggie nods and stacks the papers on the desk, followed by the books he grabbed from Bobby’s locker after trying every possible combination until he could get it open. With his official mission complete, though, Reggie hesitates again, lingering by Bobby’s desk. He doesn’t want to leave, but… he also doesn’t quite know how to say what he actually came here to say.

“You probably shouldn’t—” Bobby starts to say, then breaks off to sneeze into his elbow, twice.

“Bless you,” Reggie says, hovering awkwardly

Bobby makes a tired, congested sound and sniffs wetly, grabbing the tissue box on the bedside table. “As I was saying, you probably shouldn’t get too close. I am… disgusting.”

Reggie doesn’t respond. Bobby blows his nose and tosses his dirty tissues into the overflowing trash can next to the bed. He slumps back into his pillows, retrieves his mug and takes a sip, and only then seems to realize Reggie’s still standing there.

“Did you need something else, bro?” he asks, peering at Reggie over the rim of his mug.

“Just wanted to see how you were feeling,” Reggie says, a little too quickly. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder again. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous right now, so awkward.

Maybe because he’s never been in Bobby’s room for this long before, or at all without the other guys, or alone with Bobby since—

Since a few minutes in the hospital, since holding his hand on the front porch, since Reggie realized he liked Bobby as more than a friend.

Not that that… matters, now.

“I’m okay,” Bobby says with a shrug before coughing into a fist. “I sound worse than I feel, honestly, I’m mostly just congested at this point. But I’m on the good drugs, so.” He chuckles a little; Reggie doesn’t join him. Bobby clears his throat again and turns serious. “No, but. Fever’s been under 101 for three days straight, so. I’m on the mend.”

“Good,” Reggie says, managing a smile. “Good, that’s really good.”

Something shifts in Bobby’s expression, something that makes dread pool in Reggie’s stomach even before the words, “How’s Luke?” are out of Bobby’s mouth.

“He’s—” Reggie starts to say and then chokes on the word good. “—getting there. Fever’s gone, but he hasn’t been back at school yet cause his ribs are still healing. And he can’t play music yet, so he’s bored out of his mind.”

Bobby nods. “Yeah, he took his guitars home, but I didn’t know if he could do much playing yet. Things at home, though, are… I mean, he’s been okay with his mom and dad?”

“So far. I think they’re just really glad he’s home.”

“Good.” Bobby smiles a little, visibly relaxing, and then turns away to cough into his elbow, rubbing at his chest like it hurts. He sips at his tea some more.

This should be Reggie’s cue to leave. He brought Bobby his homework, he asked how he was feeling, he gave him an update on his… on Luke.

There’s nothing more for Reggie to do here. And yet he can’t get himself to walk away.

The words are out of his mouth before he makes any conscious choice to say them. “Bobby, are you and Luke, like… dating now?”

Bobby chokes on his tea. “Uh—I—wh-what makes you ask that?”

“Well, you said he kissed you. And you guys seemed pretty cozy at the hospital, so… I just wondered…”

Something closes off in Bobby’s expression, like a curtain being drawn behind his eyes. It makes Reggie’s heart sink, reminds him that oh, yeah, he and Bobby don’t… talk about things like this. That even though they’ve been getting along better since the whole migraine incident (not that they’d been getting along badly before then, they just hadn't really been… getting), they’re still not much more than bandmates.

“You don’t… have to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Bobby says quickly, even as his cheeks flush red. “I, uh… I guess we are? Or we’re going to be? Dating, I mean, once we’re both feeling a hundred percent.”

Reggie nods. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels… not sad, really, or even disappointed, it’s not like he’s surprised—but just… Actually, he doesn’t know what he feels.

“I’m really happy for you guys,” he manages to choke out.

Bobby’s smile cuts like a knife. “Thanks, Reg. That means a lot.”

Reggie nods and starts backing toward the door. “Cool. I mean—yeah. Yeah, no—no problem, man.”

He fumbles for the doorknob, but Bobby’s voice stops him. “I gotta thank you, Reg.”

“For what?”

“For all your help last week.” Bobby shifts his weight on the bed and clears his throat, his hands wrapped securely around his mug like he needs it to steady him. “With Luke, and… and taking care of me at the hospital. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Reggie blushes and starts to stammer out a reply, but Bobby cuts him off again. “And I need to apologize for snapping at you.”

Reggie blinks. “What? When did you—?”

“The other night, at the hospital. You asked if my head hurt and I…”

Right. Reggie remembers now. He’d seen Bobby rubbing his forehead and thought the stress of the night had given him a migraine (turns out, he was just catching Luke’s cold). So, he’d tried to take Bobby’s hand, ready to use the pressure point trick that had worked so well on him last time, but Bobby had flinched away, eyes wide and angry, and said, I’m fine!

That had been right after Bobby told Reggie that he and Luke had kissed. So Reggie had been feeling a lot of feelings at the time. He must’ve blocked the rest of it out.

“I just don’t like to make a big deal about them,” Bobby continues. “The migraines, I mean. And Alex doesn’t even know about them, and there was already so much going on with Luke… but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Why not?”

Bobby blinks. “Why… should I not have taken it out on you?’

Reggie shakes his head. “Why doesn’t Alex know about your migraines?”

“Because I didn’t tell him?”

“But why not?” Something sharp in Reggie’s chest tells him he shouldn’t push, but he can’t help it. “Why didn’t you tell any of us? If I didn’t find you that one time, you were just gonna play a whole rehearsal in pain and then go hide in your room to suffer alone, without telling any of your bandmates something was wrong? We would’ve helped you, Bobby. At the very least, we could’ve rescheduled our band practice.”

Bobby’s expression is hard to read—not quite angry, but definitely not happy with Reggie’s little speech either. He says, his voice low and small and just creeping toward cold, “I told Luke.”

Right. Because Bobby was Luke’s friend first. Because Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend now. Because Bobby is Luke’s.

But for the first time in weeks, that thought doesn’t make Reggie sad. Instead, it makes him furious. So even though he wants to support his friends, and even though Bobby’s sick, and even though Reggie makes a point to never shout at the people he loves, all the anger and hurt and jealousy inside him just burst out.

“What did we do to you, man? Me and Alex, did we—did we say something wrong? Why do you act like we’re not really your friends, like you can’t trust us? Even when Luke was really sick, you couldn’t call us for help until he was burning up from the inside out. And I don’t get it! Do you just like Luke more than us? Did he do something we didn’t to prove he could be trusted? Are you just really fucking stubborn? Why won’t you let me help you? I just wanna help you, Bobby!”

He loses steam and fumbles over his thoughts, the emotions that had been so prominent a second ago draining out of him until he almost can’t remember what they felt like anymore. Bobby’s staring at him, his face flushed and not from fever, his gaze laser-hot, his white-knuckled hands wrapped so tightly around his mug of tea that Reggie worries it’ll shatter.

“I don’t need your help, Reg,” he says tersely.

Reggie feels an agonizing pang in his chest, like his heart has cracked into a million pieces. He takes a deep breath and lets the shrapnel puncture him.

“Okay, Bobby,” he says flatly, and scoops his backpack up off the floor. “If you don’t want my help, then I’ll just stop offering.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Bobby’s reply. He just turns away, swiping at tears he didn’t realize he’d shed, and walks out the door.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed):

@whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #fanfiction #all too well series #all too well splinterverse #500 followers aaaah!!!#bobby wilson #bobby shaw #reggie peters #lukebobby #boggie #sickfic

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starshine583 · 4 years

Text

Crossing a Line

Part 17

(Ya’ll ready for the angst? Because I was not)

Part 1 / Part 16 / Part 18

Le Paon stumbled to a stop, his chest tight and his heart in his throat. He clutched the earrings in his palms, causing the ends to dig into his skin.

I.. I did it.

He took the earrings. After all the work Father’s put forward, Le Paon finally got a hold of Ladybug’s earrings.. Of Marinette’s earrings.

A sigh escaped him as he slumped against the Mansion walls. She sounded absolutely horrified when she realized what was going on. How was he going to apologize? Would she even listen to him after this?

Felix dropped his transformation and slipped inside the mansion, carefully searching for witnesses. He could return her earrings after the wish, right? Would that help? She wouldn’t be missing her kwami then..

Nathalie sat in her usual desk next to Father’s office, but she appeared engrossed in something on the computer, so he was able to slip by unnoticed. Felix quietly hopped up the stairs, a part of him wondering how Father would have handled this. How would Father proceed if he knew that his youngest son was fighting against him with a miraculous they needed? What would he have done to Marinette to get her miraculous afterwards? Would he have made the same choices?

Felix stopped in front of his bedroom door. Whether Father might have done something differently or not didn’t help him now. Felix had the earrings, and Adrien had the ring. It was down to this next conversation.

Tentatively, he knocked on the door.

No response.

Felix drew in a breath and opened the door anyway. The room was pitch black, and the faint sound of a fan fluttered around. Was he sleeping? Already? It was a little past midnight, but..

Felix closed the door, and ran a hand through his hair. What should he do now? He couldn’t just wake Adrien up to talk about this. “Hey, I know you just woke up, but let me tell you about our not-so-dead mother and the fact that your brother and Father are super villains. Also, can I have your ring that I know has been a miraculous this whole time even though you had no idea that I even knew what a miraculous was?”

Yeah.. he had a feeling that wouldn’t go well.

Felix turned on his heel to go back down the stairs. He would have to talk to Adrien about the wish in the morning. In the meantime, he could hide the earrings in the library. Even if Marinette didn’t know his identity, carrying her Miraculous around provided a flurry of plausible problems that Felix didn’t care to deal with.

Tomorrow. He promised himself, slipping the earrings into a pocket in one of the book shelves. He would talk to Adrien tomorrow, and they would finally have their mother back.

~~~~~~

Two hours. It’d been two hours since Le Paon came and took her miraculous.

Marinette sat at the bottom of the ladder that led to her balcony, eyes puffed from tears. She couldn’t understand what went wrong. They were supposed to talk and work things out. He was supposed to surrender so they could heal his mother together. How did she let this happen?

Marinette sniffed, trying to think of what Tikki would say in this moment. Maybe she would insist that it wasn’t her fault, or that she did everything she could, but neither of those would be true. This was her fault. She didn’t do everything. If Marinette were really a good Ladybug, she would have swiped Le Paon’s miraculous the first time he visited her balcony. Or even the second time. Or all the other times she let him swing by.

But she hadn’t. She let him inside, let herself trust him, and he betrayed her.

How long had he known that she was Ladybug? Did he know from the beginning? Were the times they spent together all a lie? A mere ploy to get close enough to grab her miraculous?

Was his confession a lie too?

Marinette choked out another sob. Stupid, stupid! She should have known not to trust him. After his first betrayal towards Ladybug, it should have been obvious that everything else was an act. It just felt so wonderful, having Felix by her side. The quiet smiles he would give to only her, the endless praises on her crafts. She didn’t want to imagine a world without him.

And yet, he was gone.

And so was Tikki.

And she was alone.

Marinette wiped away another tear that spilled down her cheek and looked up at the trapdoor. He’s had her earrings for two hours now. Hawkmoth could do a lot in a mere two hours.

Despite the crushing weight in her chest, Marinette forced herself to her feet. There was no more time for crying. There wasn’t time in the first place, actually. She needed to get her earrings back before Felix went too far. She needed to talk to Master Fu.

Sneaking out was the easy part. Maman and Papa had been asleep for four hours already. As long as she got back before four in the morning, they wouldn’t be a problem. It was finding Master Fu that was hard.

Marinette vaguely remembered a few turns, but she normally relied on Tikki for guidance. The address escaped her too, and her phone’s gps didn’t have a hit for “Fu’s Massage Parlor”. So, she ended up wandering around Paris for a while, avoiding dark alleyways and hoping she was going in the right direction. It must have been her last bits of Ladybug Luck that let her arrive at Master Fu’s around thirty minutes after leaving the bakery.

Marinette let out a relieved sigh when she saw the sign and quickly started knocking on the door. The first few knocks were met with silence, but she was desperate. She knocked a few more times, and after the eighth round of knocks, Master Fu finally opened the door.

“Master! I’m so sorry to come here this late, but It’s urgent!” She all but spat out. “My miraculous- I didn’t expect him to, but- It’s gone! Felix- he took it and just ran off!”

Master Fu, through his groggy state, managed to pick up the gist of her ramblings and promptly ushered her inside.

“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” He asked, glancing up and down the street.

“Positive.” Felix had no ‘use’ for her without her miraculous. She imagined he wouldn’t even bother to speak with her again after this.

Master Fu nodded and closed the door. “Good. I have something that can help you upstairs.”

Marinette was brought back up to Master Fu’s massaging room where they usually practiced her healing magic. Once inside, he crossed the room and picked up an old phonograph.

“Before we begin, I’d like to apologize.” Master Fu said as he sat the phonograph down in front of her. “It’s my fault Felix got close enough to take your miraculous.”

Marinette shook her head. “No, Master, you can’t blame yourself. I’m the one that let him inside my home without thinking of the consequences.”

“You don’t understand.” Fu responded. “I had his miraculous, but I gave it back.”

Marinette’s eyes bulged out of her head.

“You- you what? When did you have it?” She asked, dumbfounded.

Master Fu sighed. “A few weeks ago, I saw Felix running alone after the giant, movie akuma.”

Marinette pursed her lips. She remembered that night. If the akuma hadn’t appeared she might have kissed Felix for the first time while they ate ice cream. If only she knew then how dangerous he truly was.

“I pretended to be a victim of a mugging, and he offered to help me home. He even came inside and had a cup of tea, sitting where you sit right now.”

Marinette frowned. “If you had his miraculous.. why give it back?”

Regret painted his features. “When I talked with him, he did not seem evil, only desperate. I gave him the miraculous in hopes that he would change his mind and use it to fight against Hawkmoth instead, but..”

He trailed off, and Marinette cast her gaze to the floor.

But I guess we were both wrong about him.

“Tikki is waiting for you.” Master Fu continued. A renewed determination filled his eyes as he opened the phonograph to reveal multiple platforms of jewelry. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I am entrusting you another miraculous to reclaim your first one. Choose wisely.”

Marinette gasped, watching the miniature shelves pop out of the box. “You mean.. These are all miraculous?”

“Yes, and each holds a specific power.” He explained, pointing out a few. “For example, the fox miraculous can create illusions, and the bee miraculous can paralyze others for a short amount of time.”

“Create illusions?” Marinette pondered aloud. That could help her immensely if she was going to sneak into the Agreste Mansion. An illusion might be able to cloak her movements to the security cameras.

Master Fu nodded and held it up for her. “The illusions will look completely lifelike until someone touches it or you detransform. Then the image you’ve created will fade away.”

No one should be touching the illusion if it’s outside. Marinette thought as she took the miraculous. It was too late for anyone to be up.

“I’ll be back soon.” She promised, slipping on the necklace.

An orange orb appeared around the tail pendant, and its glow brightened until a small, orange, fox-like kwami appeared.

“Hi-ya!” The creature greeted. “My name’s Trixx, and I’ll be your kwami. If you wanna transform, you just need to say one thing: Trixx, let’s pounce!”

“Good luck, Ladybug.” Master Fu stated as Marinette transformed.

Marinette offered a smile. “You mean ‘Jiāng húlí’.”

This time, she’d be the one visiting Felix as an alter ego. Let’s see if he’ll be as hospitable as she was.

Running across the rooftops was extremely different compared to her usual mode of transportation via yo-yo. Nevertheless, it felt nice to have a miraculous again. A few skyscrapers even gave her a glimpse of her new costume. Her raven hair had been swept up into a long ponytail that trailed down to the back of her knees. The tips of her bangs and ponytail were stark white, and a pair of pointed, orange ears that were also white-tipped sprang from the top of her bangs. Contrary to her red and black spotted Ladybug costume, the fox miraculous bathed her in colors of orange and white. She had a jacket around her waist that was lined with black and had a popped collar, of which the inside was also black. The rest of the jacket was orange, save for the two blotches of white in the middle that continued in a line past her jacket and stopped on the inside of her upper thighs. The fox miraculous acted as a clip for the black zipper in the middle of her jacket. She had a pair white gloves and boots as well, with black lining around each. (Of course, the lining for the gloves was really the lining of the jacket sleeves) A thick, orange belt was also wrapped around her waist, cutting a line between the splashes of white on her midsection and holding her flute tightly to her side.All in all, it didn’t look half bad.

All in all, it didn’t look half bad.

The Agreste Mansion, being much larger in size than Fu’s massage parlor, was mere child’s play to find, and with her renewed, miraculous strength, Marinette managed to get there in a matter of minutes.

She crept up to the dark windows, hoping the lack of light meant no one was in the room to see her. If Felix found a new miraculous holder sneaking into his house, she doubted that he would think of it as a coincidence, and her only leverage at the moment was his ignorance towards her knowing his true identity.

Her claws clicked against the glass as she pushed on the windows for an opening. An evil super villain couldn’t sneak out of his house constantly without a way-

A window near the center fell open at her touch. Marinette smiled.

Easy now. She told herself, carefully stepping into the room. The sound of a fan insured that someone was sleeping. It was best not to wake them up.

By the time her feet were firmly on the floor, her eyes were adjusted to the light, and she was able to make out furniture. A couch.. A desk.. A rockwall?

Marinette sucked in a breath and immediately started scrambling for a hiding place. This was the boys’ room, meaning Felix was probably in here sleeping. Sleeping! She thought, at the very least, that he would lose a little sleep from betraying her. He really didn’t feel guilty at all, did he?

She shook her head. Focus. If he’s asleep, that means the miraculous is unguarded.

The pads on her feet kept her steps silent as she crossed the room. The earrings shouldn’t be far from Felix, in a pocket, or a drawer, or something. She checked his pockets first- or rather, his clothes. Pajamas didn’t tend to have pockets -by carefully patting him down. It wasn’t easy. He moved a few times, and she was certain he’d woken up when she checked under his pillow. It must have been a miracle that he remained asleep.

With pockets checked, she went to the drawers. The second and third were filled with nothing but clothes. The first drawer, however..

Marinette gasped, a swirl of bittersweet delight overtaking her at the sight of Felix’s miraculous. What a wonderful opportunity she’d been provided.

“Turnabout’s fair play, Paon.” She whispered to herself as she took the miraculous. His panicked face when he noticed his absent miraculous in the morning was going to be a horrible thing to miss.

Marinette tucked the peacock miraculous away in her belt and turned to keep looking for her miraculous, but a certain sound stopped her in her tracks. A door. Someone was coming into the boys’ room. A sliver of light entered the dark abyss, quickly growing as the door opened further. Marinette rushed to the side of the room to avoid it, scurrying up a winding staircase. She pressed herself against the shelves above and tried to control her rapid breathing. Was someone coming to check on them or did Gabriel see her on the security cameras? Would she be able to fight off Gorilla and possibly more if that were the case?

A creak emitted from the door as it opened fully, and a single woman walked into the bedroom, straight and tall. Aside from her clicking heels, she was quiet as a mouse as she crossed the room to the boys’ bed. Strangely, she opened the very drawer that Marinette had searched through a moment earlier. When she opened it, though, she paused, almost like she expected to see something else. Then- curiouser, still -the woman started digging through the drawer.

How interesting.

It took a few seconds, but the woman finally muttered some curses to herself and left the room, looking quite displeased. Marinette might have considered following her under different circumstances. Unfortunately, her time stamp didn’t allow it. In walking into the room, the woman caused the illusion to fade. The cameras might catch her any moment. Marinette didn’t mind. She now had more leverage than the knowledge of Felix’s identity. If he was dumb enough to go to school tomorrow, she would lure him into a private area there. He might not care to look at her anymore, but Marinette was going to drag him by the ear anyway.

Mark her words, Felix was going to wish he never betrayed the hero of Paris.

~~~~~~

Sunlight poured into the bedroom as Felix got ready. He fiddled with the buttons on his dark grey vest, too nervous to think properly. Adrien was currently in the bathroom freshening up. When he came out, Felix was going to have to find a way to tell him that their long-lost mother was actually in a coma under their house. (Seriously, couldn’t Father find a less unsettling place to hide her?)

Heaven only knows how his brother was going to react. Felix might have agreed to help, but Adrien has been playing hero during this whole fiasco. With all of those battles stored in his mind, the personal insults shot at each other and near-death experiences, he probably won’t be as easily.. persuaded. Not to mention, Felix was going to have to get Adrien down to the basement. Chances were, he wouldn’t be able to do that without Father seeing them. Ugh, so many obstacles!

The bathroom door opened, and Felix tensed.

“Hey, Fe, did you move the toothpaste?” Adrien asked as he walked out.

Felix almost smiled. Such an innocent question for such a serious topic he was about to bring up. “No, but-”

“Oh, nevermind.” Adrien cut him off, spinning on his heel. “I just remembered that I saw it in the mirror cabinet.”

Felix stared as his brother closed the bathroom door again. He could already see how this was going to go. Heaving a sigh, he walked over to his bedside drawer to grab his miraculous. Maybe Duusu would have some advice.

The drawer slid open, and a few of the contents inside rolled with it, but there was no miraculous. Felix furrowed his eyebrows and started digging through the drawer a bit. He could have sworn that he put it in there the night before. It’s where he always puts it when he takes it off.

Maybe I set it somewhere else? He thought with a frown, starting to check under the bed and in the other drawers. He’d been a bit out of last night, but it couldn’t be far, since he’d definitely used it last night.

“Felix? Did you lose something?”

Felix shot up at his brother’s voice, causing him to smack his head on the bottom of Adrien’s desk that he’d begun looking under. “Ah! Yes, I’m- everything’s fine. It’s nothing.”

It’s not like I need it anymore, anyway. Felix reminded himself as he rubbed the back of his head. I have the earrings, and soon I’ll have the ring too.

“Adrien,” Felix began, trying not to glance at his brother’s ring while he stood, “do you ever.. I don’t know.. Think about mom?”

Adrien hesitated, obviously not expecting the question. “Uh.. I mean.. Of course I do. All the time. Why?”

“Do you ever wonder what would happen if we could bring her back?”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “Sometimes.. But that’s not possible, so I try not to think about it.”

Boy, are you in for a surprise. Felix refrained from saying. “What if you could? Would you do what it took to have her back?”

Adrien completely frowned now. “Felix-”

“Boys.”

The brothers turned to see Nathalie in the doorway. When did she come in?

“Gorilla is waiting for you downstairs.” She informed. “Please hurry.”

Felix and Adrien nodded, and Nathalie left the room as quickly as she’d come. He turned back to Adrien, hoping to continue the conversation, but his brother had already grabbed his bag and started for the door.

Before he fully rounded the corner, though, Adrien stopped.

“Felix, about Mom.. I miss her as much as anybody, but I don’t think she would want us to grieve over her like this. Having Mom back would be great, but would she really want us to go ‘above and beyond’ just to bring her back?”

Adrien left before Felix could reply, though he’s not sure he would have had a response, anyway. Mother wouldn’t want them to obsess over her. She would them to live their lives and be happy..

Too bad it’s too late to back out now.

School that day came with a whole new level of anxiety. He couldn’t help glancing left and right as he walked up the steps. Marinette could be anywhere, and she had to be worried for her miraculous, though she might not show it. She didn’t know his identity, so he should be fine, but the guilt that would smother him upon seeing her wasn’t an experience he was excited to go through.

He pondered not attending school himself, in all honesty. Alas, he didn’t have a good excuse to stay home. So here he was, carrying his bag to his locker and getting ready to burn through classes as fast as possible.

“Felix.”

Goosebumps crawled across his skin at the sound of Marinette’s voice. Why was everyone sneaking up on him today?

He reluctantly turned to greet her and had to force a neutral expression when he saw her smile. That didn’t look like someone who was grieving the loss of a miraculous.

“I want to talk to you.” She said, the usual, perky tone noticeably lacking in her voice.

The hair on the back of Felix’s neck stood up. “Uh.. that’s very kind of you-” Very kind of her? How did that response make sense? “-but class is going to be starting soon, so I need to get going.”

He moved to pass her, but she grabbed his wrist, her grip iron-tight. “I wasn’t asking.”

She yanked him backwards, slamming him against the lockers. Felix gasped for air, his eyes blowing wide with shock. Was this really happening? Marinette has never been violent in her life! He glanced around the locker room for witnesses, only to find that they were completely alone. Something told him that wasn’t a coincidence.

Marinette pressed her forearm to his chest, pinning him to the lockers. “Where did you put them!”

Felix struggled in vain to pull her arm away. Had she always been this strong in civilian form? “Put what?!”

“My miraculous!” She hissed, pushing harder. “Where are they!”

Felix’s eyes snapped to hers. The miraculous? She was asking his civilian form about her miraculous? But that meant..

He stopped struggling. “..You know.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Yeah. And, apparently, so did you.”

Felix might have felt guilty towards the jab had his mind not been reeling. How long had she known that he was Le Paon? When did she find out? How did she find out?

“Tell me you didn’t use the wish.” She spoke again, bringing Felix from his thoughts.

“Not yet. I still need the ring.” He answered honestly.

Her entire body seemed to loosen at the news. “Good. Where are my earrings?”

“They're hidden in the mansion.”

“Then you’re taking me there to get them.”

Felix shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.” She remarked, her voice dripping with venom. He didn’t know she was capable of sounding so threatening.

Still, Felix held his ground. “Marinette, you don’t understand-”

“No, you don’t understand!” Marinette shot back. “That wish is dangerous! It has consequences! If you use it to heal your mother, someone else is going to take her place!”

Take her place? “What do you mean?”

Marinette sighed. “The universe needs to be balanced. If you heal Emilie from an incurable coma, someone else will fall into an incurable coma as a result. Did you honestly think that I was fighting tooth and nail to keep my miraculous for the fun of it all?”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. No, that.. That can’t be right. Father had never mentioned a consequence to using the wish.

“..I had hoped that was the case.” Was all he ended up saying.

Marinette huffed. “You’re so infuriating! Call Gorilla or whoever drives you. You’re taking me to get my miraculous back, unless you want me to keep this..”

She pulled something out of her pocket, and though Felix swore he’d seen everything that morning already, his jaw dropped when he saw his miraculous in her hands.

“How did-”

“That’s not important.” She cut him off sharply. “Call the car. Now.”

“W-Wait!” So many things were happening at once. “I can’t just take you to our house during school! Nathalie’s never going to let that fly.”

Marinette thought that over. “..I don’t trust you enough to wait till after school.”

The words sank into his heart like knives, but he couldn’t blame her. “That’s completely fair, but your plan will never work as is.”

“And what do you propose we do instead?” She inquired, raising a brow.

Felix swallowed. “We can go after school, and-” he emphasized the ‘and’ before she could interrupt “-to ease your mind, I will check in with you after every class period. Our class schedules are relatively the same. We can even have lunch together if that makes you feel better.”

Disgruntlement flickered across her features at the notion of eating together. Felix would be lying if he said that didn’t bother him.

“If I sense any sort of foul play-”

“You won’t.” He promised. “Heck, take my phone for good measure.”

Marinette’s expression leveled, and she held out her hand. “Deal.”

Despite still being pinned to the lockers, Felix managed to dig out his phone and hand it to her.

Marinette, being satisfied, dropped him as she pocketed the phone. “See you after classes, Agreste.”

Felix watched her sweep out of the room, noting the fact that she kept an eye on him the whole time. She must truly see him as a monster now if she’s waiting for him to pounce like that. He rubbed his chest where her forearm had been, knowing it would probably leave some type of bruise later, and headed for his first class.

Today was decidedly not going as planned.

Tag List: @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @starlit-winter @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @uwuteamleader @chocolatecustarddanish @iambi-thilla-meena @corabeth11 @asianfrustration13 @chrismarium @agumon1123 @luciferge @yue-caelum @persephonebutkore @constancetruggle @make-the-stars-stay @johnlockfeelz @imfreakingmagical @tinybrie @procrastinatingrightnow @bee-wrecker @dontcallmecedge @shadowhex99 @daminette-is-life @thethirdwheelfriend @myazael @sizzling-fairy-oil @sparkle9510 @chaosace @the-navistar-carol @sannsibarr @grumpy-vixen-kitten @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @utcaro @more-or-less-human-i-guess @mlbutatbspofsalt @dawn-the-rithmatist @artcart0n @mermaidreject @tori-mmm @fifaanayd @novicevoice @dreamykitty25 @mischief-not-managed-posts @amayakans @arsaem @athena452 @pink-and-bunny

#Felinette #Felix Agreste #Marinette #Le Paon AU

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ikeromantic · 4 years

Text

Coffee

Day 18 of Ikemektober!

I chose Sebastian for this one. A bit of spicy fluff. Approx. 1200 words

Sebas was making omelettes and pancakes on a wide griddle while I took care of the drinks. I couldn’t help but wonder what they’d think of a modern day cafe, with so many different kinds of coffee and tea, syrups and cream options. I sighed, missing my caramel lattes with two extra caramel pumps.

“Are you going to frown the coffee into making itself?” Sebas gave me his one eyebrow up look that meant he was amused, but only just. Another delay and he’d probably thump me. Again.

“I’m on it, Sebastian. See?” I’d learned a lot in the last week about how to live in this century. How to do laundry, how to clean, and how to cook. This would be my first attempt at making the morning coffee.

I took a scoop of coffee beans from the thick, cloth bag and dumped it in the grinder. It looked more or less full. I closed the top and started turning the handle. A couple of turns later, I opened the lid. The beans looked ground up - nothing like store bought stuff but close enough.

Or, I thought it was until Sebas peeked over my shoulder. “Ah, what did I tell you about the coffee?”

“Ummm, that Mozart and Arthur drink it black? And, uhh, to,” I couldn’t remember half the instructions he’d laid out over the last three days.

Sebastian sighed. His breath tickled my ear as he closed the gap between us.

I gave a little squeak, surprised at the sudden closeness. I half expected another thump or a light smack to the back of my head. Instead, he’d pressed himself against my back, his arms going around me to lift the coffee grinder, tipping the contents into a nearby bowl.

“Ah, Sebas, w-what are you doing?”

His mouth was against my ear, lips brushing it as he spoke. “I’m showing you -again- how to grind the coffee properly.”

I shivered at the unexpected touch, my heart leaping into a gallop. Akihiko was handsome, smart, and incredibly motivated by his dreams. I already had a tiny crush on him and this was too much contact to take. Especially when I knew the admiration was one-sided. He probably thought I was an idiot.

Sebastian used a tablespoon to take four scoops of the rough ground coffee and put it back in the grinder. Every spoonful, his arm brushed against my chest, sending a little electric arc from breast to hip.

I couldn’t help but take a sharp breath and bite my lip. I was not going to make some embarrassing noise. Nope. Not gonna do it.

“Is everything alright?” Sebastian’s lips tickled my ear again. I could hear the smile in his voice. The teasing.

“Y-yep. Great. Perfect.”

“Perfect?” His low voice was almost a purr in my ear. I could feel the vibration on my skin, all the way down to my collarbone.

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I barely had a coherent thought and I didn’t want to squeak in front of him. Again. I just nodded.

Sebastian closed the coffee grinder and began to turn the handle. His arm kept brushing against me, a little frisson of heat that I couldn’t have ignored even if I wasn’t crushing. Worse . . . there was a movement in his hips. A little twist. My body wanted to lean back into it.

I endured this in silence through three more grinds. The final product was a smooth, fine ground coffee. And me, pink-cheeked and breathy. It was like running a marathon. A don’t-sound-like-you’re-enjoying-this marathon.

“Now we pour the grounds into the mesh - and the hot water goes on top.” Sebas was still wrapped around me as he reached for the pot of hot water.

“I can do this part,” I squeaked.

“Can you? Hmmm.” Instead of reaching for the pot, he took hold of my wrist. Like some butler-puppeteer. Steering me as I picked up the pot and poured the hot water.

I hate to admit I was a little shaky. It was hard to concentrate on making coffee with Sebastian’s chest pressed tight against my back, his lips tickling my neck. “S-so are we done? I mean - the coffee is made . . .” I trailed off, sounding as uncertain as I felt. I wanted him to let go of me. But I really didn’t want him to let go. He felt so good. Warm and firm and - I stopped myself before I got to thinking too much about that hip swivel.

Sebastian squeezed me a little tighter. “We aren’t done yet. You have to let it steep. And pour the cups.”

“Oh.”

“You seem a little distracted. Do you find making coffee . . . difficult?”

I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. Did he realize what effect he had on me? He had to. I mean, even I could tell my breath quavered and my whole face was red. Even my ears felt hot. “I-it’s not the coffee.”

I swear I could feel his smile. “I see. Well, we’re almost done. Shall I show you a proper technique to pour or do you want to show me yours?”

“I can do it.” I tried to sound certain, but it was hard. My heart was hammering away in my chest and my mouth felt so dry. I took the mesh strainer out and set it down, then picked up the coffee pot.

Sebastian’s grip still circled my arms. His cool fingers stroked the skin on the inside of my wrists. Small, delicate movements as if I wouldn’t notice the touch. Was he doing it on purpose?

I held the coffee cup steady with one hand - the cups at the manor were delicate porcelain, nothing like the heavy mugs I was used to. I always felt like I was going to break them.

“Careful now.”

“I’m always careful.” Last words. Irony. I poured too fast and the hot coffee spilled out onto my hand and into the silver tray.

Before I could do more than register the sudden burn - hot enough to sting - Sebas turned me around to face him. He took my finger and put it to his lips.

“Wh-what -” I think that’s what I said. What I managed to say. And then my finger was in his mouth. A pleasant heat replaced the burn. I might have (moaned) made a noise as I felt his tongue stroke my fingertip.

Sebastian suckled my burnt finger for maybe a heartbeat, but it felt like longer. Or maybe I just wanted it to be. Then he was placing a gentle kiss atop it as he let my hand go. I still wasn’t free of him though. Through the fog of that unexpected touch, I realized I was now pressed against the front of him, my back to the counter.

If I admit a hundred potential scenes came to mind, all of them involving Sebas, ravishing, and the high potential for kitchen-kink, would you think less of me? If so, I never admitted it. Let’s just say, I might have done my own little hip-swivel, pinned as I was, and enjoyed it.

“You should be more careful.” Sebastian shook his head, expression serious. I still couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or not.

“Sorry.”

“There’s no reason to apologize. Only to improve.” He flashed me a smile then. “At least the coffee is good.”

And that is how I learned to make coffee in the 19th century.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp sebastian #ikemen sebastian #ikevamp sebas #ikevamp akihiko #ikemektober #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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nicolewrites · 4 years

Text

i’ve never loved (like this)

@tsunnychan this is your fault. have some more sylvgrid.

Rating: T+ Genre: Romance, Friendship Characters: [Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea], Byleth/My Unit, Dorothea Arnault Words: 5,661

"Sylvain is minding his own business in the kitchen, only half reading the paper he needs to have reviewed by tomorrow, when Dorothea decides to ruin his day completely. And by Dorothea, he means the outfit that Dorothea picked out for Ingrid to specifically to ruin his day." / modern au sylgrid

AO3 | FFN

Sylvain is minding his own business in the kitchen, only half reading the paper he needs to have reviewed by tomorrow, when Dorothea decides to ruin his day completely. And by Dorothea, he means the outfit that Dorothea picked out specifically to ruin his day because Ingrid is wearing an icy blue dress that’s all gauzy and flowy and had a deep v-neck that’s the cause of a few problems. It also shows off her legs marvellously that’s the cause of the rest of his problems.

Sylvain nearly drops his coffee when he sees Ingrid and he does let his tablet slip through his grip and clatter on the countertop.

Ingrid stares at him quizzically as Dorothea emerges from her room behind her, already smirking at Sylvain. Sylvain coughs to himself and tries to refocus on the paper he had been reading, but now that Ingrid is here and she is dressed like that, his brain is completely fried.

“Ready to go?” Ingrid asks him.

Sylvain forces a grin that he hopes doesn’t look too lovesick and he turns off his tablet. He takes another sip of coffee before reaching over the counter to place the mug in the sink. He stands off the barstool and pats his pockets for his keys and his phone: both are present.

“Absolutely,” he agrees. “You look nice,” he compliments. The compliment is definitely directed at Ingrid, but Dorothea gives him a sharp smile as she links one arm with Sylvain and the other with Ingrid, placing herself in between the two childhood friends. “Thank you for noticing,” she says breezily.

Sylvain is tall enough that he can see over the top of Dorothea’s head to Ingrid, but Ingrid isn’t looking at him as she tugs Dorothea towards the apartment door. Dorothea releases Sylvain and walks with Ingrid as the two girls start to pick out shoes.

Sylvain is already wearing shoes: pointed brown dress shoes that were way more money than they had any business being, but they look sharp, so he’s not going to complain. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and spins them around his finger as he watches Dorothea practically bully Ingrid into a pair of strappy white pumps before putting on her red heels herself.

Dorothea darts out the door then, snagging her coat as she goes, leaving Ingrid and Sylvain alone for one moment. Ingrid sighs heavily, staring at the shoes and the four inches of height they give her. Sylvain smiles faintly. Just because she’s dolled up, doesn’t mean that she’s not the same old Ingrid he knows so well.

“You don’t have to wear them,” he reminds her.

Ingrid lifts her gaze to him and sweeps it over his outfit critically: tailored grey suit, pointed shoes, and a black dress shirt but no tie. She shakes her head.

“It’s fine,” she disagrees. “I asked her to help me with this and they do match the dress.”

Sylvain shrugs. He’s about to say something potentially stupid and friendship ruining when Dorothea pokes her head back into the apartment.

“Coming?”

Ingrid straightens her shoulders. “Yes,” she assures and then she’s disappearing out the door of the apartment, leaving Sylvain to turn the lights off and lock the door.

The girls are waiting at the elevator for him and Sylvain swoops in to push the down button to call the elevator. Dorothea chats easily and Sylvain responds when she directs the conversation towards him, but he spends most of his time trying not to stare at his best friend.

- ~ -

The Blaiddyd Manor is all lit up and bustling with life by the time that Sylvain turns into the long driveway. Dorothea coos at the vibrancy of the event while Ingrid answers her questions about the house and the guest list and the occasion.

Sylvain has barely parked the car and gotten out when there are tiny arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing as a tiny woman squeals in delight. He has time to gently pat the firecracker that is Annette Dominic on the back twice before she’s darting away from him to hug Ingrid and Dorothea and to gush over how pretty they both look.

Annette is wearing a sparkly gold dress that, combined with her fiery hair, makes her hard to miss, even if she is absolutely tiny. Sylvain watches the girls for a moment with a faint smile before he turns to the man following Annette.

“Hey Fe,” he greets.

Felix’s arms are crossed and eyes narrowed, but he is wearing a light grey dress shirt and tailored black suit pants. His hair is also braided back into an updo that was definitely done by his tiny firecracker girlfriend.

“Sylvain,” he practically grunts.

Sylvain laughs and pulls Felix into a hug. Felix resists, pulling at Sylvain’s arms for the entire time, but it’s been that way as long as they’ve known each other. Sylvain pats Felix one more time on the back before releasing him.

Dorothea and Ingrid have managed to curb Annette’s enthusiasm and the three girls have walked around the car to join Sylvain and Felix. Ingrid hugs Felix too, and he does actually almost reciprocate her hug. Dorothea doesn’t try to hug Felix, just flashing him a wide smile that makes him narrow his eyes. Sylvain almost laughs.

He looks up at the Blaiddyd Manor and grins widely. He slings an arm around Ingrid and one around Felix. “Going to be a weird party this year,” he says brightly.

Felix makes a face. “I hate this party.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “It won’t be that weird, Sylvain,” she says.

He shrugs and pulls them both forward. “I dunno. Last time we were all here, Felix was still living with us.”

Annette laughs and grabs her boyfriend’s hand, pulling him free of Sylvain so that the two of them were walking together. “Well, too bad for you,” she teases.

Ingrid ducks out from under Sylvain’s arm once Felix is gone and he tries not to be too disappointed by it. She darts forward to walk next to Felix and Annette and the three start up a conversation. Dorothea links her arm through his once Ingrid is gone, smirking.

“Stop that,” he grumbles, still watching Ingrid.

“Oh absolutely not,” she replies cheerfully.

“I hate you,” he mutters quietly.

“No you don’t,” Dorothea sings back playfully.

Sylvain shuts up and escorts his and Ingrid’s friend to the front of the manner. Ingrid presents all of their invitations to the man at the door and they are waved through into the grand foyer.

The foyer is different from how it has been in years past. Instead of gaudy decorations dripping from every available surface, the decor is much sparser but just as eye-catching. It’s mostly silver this year, a contrast from the usual ostentatious gold. Sylvain likes it much better.

“Do you think Dimitri fired his party planner from last year?” he asks his friends.

Annette giggles. “I think this is probably Byleth’s touch.”

Ingrid nods. “Dimitri mentioned Byleth had been doing a lot to help him out this year.” “That’s his girlfriend right?” Dorothea asks curiously.

“Yeah,” Felix replies dryly. “They’re disgustingly in love. It’s awful.”

Annette laughs at Felix’s repulsion. “Come on, let’s go say hello to your father. I think I saw him head into the sitting room.” Felix casts Ingrid and Sylvain a ‘save me’ look, but they both just allow Annette to drag her boyfriend away to go find his father. Sylvain is about to ask Dorothea how much she knows about the Blaiddyd Gala since she’s never been before when Dorothea perks up noticeably.

“I just saw Ferdinand and Hubert arrive,” she says brightly. “I’ll catch up to you two later.”

Dorothea disappears into a crowd of people towards a flash of bright orange hair that’s probably her friend Ferdinand, and then Ingrid and Sylvain are alone. Coherent thoughts and social abilities all immediately vanish and Sylvain nearly chokes on his tongue as he tries to say something not completely stupid.

“Should we go find Dimitri?” Ingrid suggests when Sylvain’s words fail him for a moment too long.

He relaxes, smiling, and nods. “Excellent idea. Ballroom do you think?”

“That’s usually where he is,” Ingrid agreed.

She grabs his hand and pulls him forward. Sylvain blinks stupidly and stays rooted to the spot, keeping them both from actually moving. He stares at their joined hands. Ingrid follows his gaze slowly before raising an eyebrow.

“So we don’t lose each other?” she offers and Sylvain’s shock tightens into a practiced smile.

“Right.”

He lets her lead this time and follows her closely as they dart between people to get into the ballroom. The ballroom is even more crowded than the foyer had been and Sylvain recognizes even fewer of the people. The Blaiddyd Gala had been an annual event that Dimitri’s parents had put on every year for as long as Sylvain could remember. After they had died, Dimitri’s uncle Rufus had hosted the event until Dimitri had turned 19. From then on, Dimitri had hired planners and event coordinators and had thrown himself into continuing his parents’ legacy ball, no matter how much he hated actually hosting the event.

Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix had been going to the gala with their families since they were children, but now they were old enough to receive their own invites. While the party crowd is still mostly politicians and business folk, there has been an undeniable shift in attendance in recent years towards Dimitri’s colleagues and friends instead of his father’s old partners. It is refreshing to see.

Ingrid spots Dimitri first, at the far side of the ballroom chatting with Holst Goneril, the son of a politician Lambert had known well. There is a rather large crowd around the host, all waiting to pass their regards on to the host and to make useless small talk for a little while. Ingrid’s energy deflates a bit when she sees that Dimitri is so busy, but Sylvain spots a woman nearby that makes him smile.

He tugs Ingrid along, making sure not to trip her up on her high heels, and approaches Byleth Eisner. Byleth is wearing a silver dress and black heels and her shocking mint green hair is braided in a crown around her head. She’s sipping champagne from a flute and she immediately smiles when she sees Sylvain and Ingrid heading towards her.

“Hello you two,” Byleth greets.

Ingrid smiles. “Hello Byleth.”

The two girls embrace and Sylvain just grins, happy to have at least partially lessened Ingrid’s disappointment. Byleth hugs him next. She’s strong and her hug is firm. She’s quite short too, but as small as Annette, but the heels help, bringing her so she, like Ingrid, is only around 7 inches shorter than him.

“It’s lovely to see you both,” Byleth continues.

Sylvain eyes the ballroom for a moment. “We’re happy to be here. I’m guessing some of this had to do with you, right?”

Byleth scoffs into her champagne glass. “With how the decorations turned out last year? There was no way I was letting that witch back on the premises. Hilda did a much nicer job.”

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “Hilda Goneril?”

Byleth shrugged. “She likes pretty things and she likes to delegate so when I offered her the position, there was no way she was turning me down.”

Ingrid laughs lightly. “Well, everything looks wonderful. It reminds me of Patricia’s last gala. She took suck pride in organizing these things herself.”

Byleth smiles a bit sadly. “Dimitri said as much himself. I’m sad I couldn’t have met them.” She shakes off the sadness and glances over her shoulder to where her partner is swamped in visitors. “You know, I’m sure he’d much rather entertain you guys than those old codgers.”

Ingrid brightens. “Maybe I’ll go rescue him then.”

She slips into the crowd of people before Sylvain can stop her, and he’s left alone with Byleth. He snags a flute of champagne off a server’s tray as they walk by and Byleth taps her glass against his.

“It is good to see you, Sylvain.”

“It’s always good to see you, Professor,” he teases in reply.

Byleth rolls her eyes. She’s taken an assistant professor position at the university so many of their friends have taken to calling her professor jokingly. She nudges him with her elbow and glances at where Ingrid disappeared to.

“How is she?”

Sylvain shrugs. “You know how it is this time of year. She and Felix get mopey and Annette and I try our best. How’s Dimitri?”

Byleth fiddles with a long silver chain around her neck. The pendant on it dips into her cleavage, hidden from sight and Sylvain valiantly keeps his eyes on her shoulders and up. “He’s struggling. He loves and hates this party. It reminds him so much of his parents, but it’s also a chance to gather all his friends together in one place.”

Sylvain nods. “Yeah, it’s the same for us. We like to come to see our friends, but then some of us spend the whole time avoiding our families.” Byleth shakes her head with a fond smile. “How are you two though? Still hopeless?”

Sylvain feels his neck get a bit hot, but it’s Byleth and Byleth can read anyone like a book, so he’s not too surprised. They’ve had this conversation every day for the last four years at the party.

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

He can just pick out Ingrid where she has finally reached Dimitri through the crowd of old men. Dimitri is wearing a suit, but a simple grey one, and his hair is tied back out of his face. He is smiling much more genuinely at Ingrid than he had at any of the other guests greeting him.

“How’s are you and Dimitri?” he asks.

Byleth’s lips curl into a stunning smile. She lifts up the silver chain around her neck until Sylvain can see the pendant she has been concealing. It’s a pretty silver ring with a green emerald set in the centre of it and Sylvain is floored.

“Wised up, did he?”

Byleth laughs and drops the pendant. “I think he was tired of everyone assuming we were engaged honestly.” Sylvain throws an arm over her shoulder and squeezes her in a one-armed hug. “Congratulations, Byleth. I’m thrilled for you guys.”

Byleth looks over at where Ingrid and Dimitri are. “Do me a favour and tell the girl you love her, alright?”

Sylvain scowls and he’s about to argue when he notices that Dimitri and Ingrid are headed right towards them. Ingrid is beaming and Dimitri is smiling too. He reaches them first on his long legs and Sylvain lets himself be pulled into a hug by his longtime friend. Dimitri has about an inch on him now, but he hugs like a truck.

Sylvain pulls away and grins. “What’s with the hugginess of everyone tonight?” Ingrid elbows him and he laughs. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s great to see you too, Dimitri.”

Dimitri takes Byleth’s hand and smiles broadly. “Thank you for sending Ingrid to rescue me,” he says to her. He looks back at his friends. “And thank you guys for coming again. I know this isn’t the easiest place to be for any of us.” He looks around the ballroom for a second. “Is Felix here?”

“He and Annette went to say hi to Rodrigue,” Ingrid says.

Dimitri looks surprised. “Really?”

“Annette’s idea,” Sylvain supplies.

“Ah,” Dimitri says, smiling faintly.

Byleth looks small next to him, but she’s beaming and he keeps stealing glances at her like she’s hung the sun in the sky and Sylvain knows that they love each other a lot. He’s struck by a sudden urge to give the newly engaged pair a bit of privacy.

“We should finish making the rounds too, Ingrid,” he suggests. “We haven’t seen your brothers or your father and we should also probably find Dorothea too.”

Ingrid nods and bids Byleth and Dimitri goodbye before she lets Sylvain take her hand and lead her across the ballroom again. They get about ten paces away before she squeezes his fingers.

“Since when are you in a big hurry to socialize with my brothers?”

Sylvain feels mildly ill suddenly. “Oh god, save me, I’m definitely not.”

Ingrid laughs. “Do you think they’re suddenly going to want to kick your ass because Felix moved out?”

He shrugs. “They always seem ready to kick my ass.” Ingrid rolls her eyes affectionately. “No more than I am,” she assures.

They stop at the edge of the ballroom. The quartet on the far side has started playing and some people have started to dance. A server walks by them and Sylvain drops Ingrid’s hand to grab her a champagne flute. He offers it to her with a flourish and she takes it with a smile, taking a small sip.

“Thanks, Sylvain,” she says.

He taps his almost empty glass against hers. “Cheers.”

They stand in quiet companionship at the edge of the ballroom for a few minutes, just sipping at their drinks and taking in the atmosphere of the gala. Only about half the ballroom is being used for dancing. The other half is just people socializing, much like the rest of the manor during the gala. Even though the event had originally been a way to celebrate spring, it quickly morphed into one of the most influential parties in the city and a key networking point.

Sylvain never liked to think of it as a networking event because that ruined the atmosphere of the party. He used to come to the party and dance with as many girls as he could until someone got mad and then he’d sneak his younger friends drinks until they could all sneak away to Dimitri’s room to just talk. They hadn’t done that since Dimitri’s parents died and he missed it.

“Sylvain?” Ingrid asks and he jolts, realizing she has asked him something and he hadn’t heard her.

“Sorry, Ing, what did you say?”

“Just asking if you were okay is all,” she murmurs.

Her hand on his chest, resting on the side of his ribcage and Sylvain’s heart thuds painfully in his chest. They’re so close and he can count the individual eyelashes on her dolled up eyes. He can’t deny that Dorothea’s makeover has made her look absolutely stunning, but he also loves the Ingrid that wallows on their couch when she has a test coming up in sweatpants and her hair in a bun.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles in reply.

It’s increasingly hard to focus with her this close to him when every nerve in his body is singing for him to kiss her and to sweep her off her feet and to pin her against the wall of the ballroom and shower her in the love he’s been concealing for nearly eight years. It had been a horrifying realization when he first realized he was in love with her and it had been a struggle to conceal it from her for so long.

“You know,” he says lowly, “I wasn’t talking to Dorothea back at the apartment.”

Ingrid’s chin lifts just the tiniest bit and there’s a glimmer of something in her eyes. “You weren’t?”

“You look stunning, Ing,” he says quietly. “The kind of pretty that could walk all over me and I’d probably thank you and ask you do to it again.” Ingrid looks a bit startled at his words and her hand drops back to her side. “Oh,” she says. Her voice is small and Sylvain instantly wants to backtrack. He’s said something wrong.

He leans away from her to give them both breathing room and Ingrid relaxes once he’s out of her immediate space. The calmness on her face doesn’t stay long though as it drops into something that looks a bit like half-concealed dread a second later.

Sylvain feels his brow knit. “Ing?” He starts to turn to follow her gaze, but her hand grabs his arm in a vice grip and doesn’t let him look.

“Sylvain, just don’t,” she says hurriedly.

He frowns. “What?”

She closes her eyes and inhales. “Your father is here,” she mutters.

Sylvain feels dread coil in his stomach. “Oh,” he says faintly. He doesn’t look, but suddenly the romantic moment between him and Ingrid feels like it was a thousand years ago.

“Let’s go,” Ingrid says firmly.

She grips his hand and pulls him out of the ballroom into the eastern wing of the manner. She doesn’t look back and doesn’t let him hesitate either. Determinedly, she leads him through the kitchen and out the side door. One of the kitchen staff looks like she is about to scold them, but she recognizes them and lets them pass without hesitation.

Ingrid doesn’t release him until they’re standing under the gazebo in the impressive garden. Sylvain still feels kind of numb, but he lets her push him down onto one of the benches. She sits next to him, forcing him to slide over and make room for him.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says, sounding guilty.

Sylvain shakes his head. “Ingrid, I see him here every year.” He squares his shoulders. “I’m okay, I promise.”

She purses her lips and levels him with a glare. “You are absolutely not, so do not lie to me, Sylvain.” She takes both of his hands in hers and squeezes them tightly. “Your father was awful to you. You’re allowed to never want to see him again.”

Sylvain shuts his eyes. “I’m the prodigal son, Ing, there’s only so long he’ll let me do my own thing.” His stomach is still all twisted in knots.

Her hands drop his and cup his face. He opens his eyes and is surprised by the burning intensity in her gaze.

“You’re in law school, Sylvain, that is absolutely nothing to scoff at. And if he thinks for a second that Felix and Dimitri and I will let him go back to his old ways with you, he’s mistaken.”

He feels the corner of his mouth twitch. “I don’t deserve you.”

Ingrid slides her arms around his neck and hugs him. She smells faintly of something floral she’s warm against him, even if her hands are cool to the touch.

“You’re my friend, Sylvain. That’s not going to change any time soon.”

She releases him from the hug and leans back, studying him. Sylvain doesn’t try to force one of his plastic smiles because he knows she sees through them. She’s been doing it since they were young so there’s not really any reason to try to sneak one past her now.

“It was easier when I could get under his skin by acting up,” Sylvain mumbles.

Ingrid takes his hand again and he feels weak and stupid. They should be inside enjoying the fanciest party of the year and yet they’re sitting under a gazebo while he, a grown man, freaks out about seeing his father.

“When Miklan wasn’t around and I was flirting like crazy, it was fine. He’d get annoyed but I was good at ignoring that. Once Mik went to prison,” Sylvain trails off, shaking his head.

Ingrid knows this story. She’s lived this story with him. It started with his father shipping Miklan off to as many boarding schools as possible because he was always trouble. It ended with attempted fratricide, disowning, attempted suicide, and Sylvain cutting ties and seeking therapy to deal with his fucked up family life.

Ingrid’s been through a lot too, with her mother dying when she was young and her father’s business struggling, causing her family to struggle to support her three older brothers and her. And then, of course, there had been Glenn.

Glenn Fraldarius who had been Felix’s older brother and Sylvain and Dimitri’s friend and Ingrid’s boyfriend. Glenn Fraldarius who had gotten shot protecting Dimitri from the same people that killed Lambert and Patricia. Glenn Fraldarius that had died and made everything go to shit.

“Sylvain,” Ingrid interjects gently, “you’re allowed to be angry with him. You’re allowed to be hurt.”

The words sounded terribly similar to the things that he had said through Ingrid’s locked door after Glenn had died. Back then, he had been ashamed of his attempts to comfort Felix and Ingrid because he could never get rid of the needling self-hatred in his stomach that some horrible part of him was glad that Glenn was gone because Ingrid would never, ever choose Sylvain over Glenn.

He takes a deep breath and stands up. He holds out a hand to her. “Come on, Ingrid. We have a party to enjoy.” She takes his hand, but she hesitates. “Sylvain.”

“As long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine. We’ll just avoid my parents and talk to your brothers and bother Felix. We haven’t seen Mercedes or Dedue or Ashe yet either, and we can’t leave without saying hello to them.”

Ingrid smiles a bit. “That’s a line,” she mutters, but she does let him tug her back towards the manor.

“Nah,” he disagrees, smiling at her. She looks prettier when she smiles. “It’s the truth.”

They run into Ashe in the dining room off the kitchen and Sylvain is happy to shove unpleasant thoughts of his father and his brother away to watch Ingrid light up as she greets her old friend. Ashe’s optimism is the same as always as he chatters about the catering, which is from the restaurant that he started, Sylvain notes.

Ingrid leaves the conversation with a plate of food and her pleasant mood restored and Sylvain’s stomach loosens as he looks at the beautiful smile on his friend’s face.

- ~ -

Dimitri gives a speech later that thanks all of his friends for their support. Byleth stands next to him and holds his hand. She makes eye contact with Sylvain during the speech and noticeably flicks her eyes to Ingrid who is standing next to him, still holding his hand. Sylvain holds her gaze and Byleth narrows her eyes just the tiniest bit in a measure of displeasure.

Sylvain ignores her and focusses on the warmth of Ingrid’s hand in his. Her fingers are long and slender, but her hand still feels dwarfed and delicate in his. He squeezes it once. Her eyes stay on Dimitri as he gives his speech, but her grip tightens around his a moment later.

- ~ -

At one-thirty in the morning, Sylvain waits on the front steps of Blaiddyd Manor while Ingrid searches for Dorothea inside so that they can leave. After the brief hiccup, the party had been quite enjoyable. They had spoken with Ingrid’s brothers who only gave him a few suspicious looks and had bothered Felix and Annette and had spoken with countless other friends, all while successfully avoiding Sylvain’s parents.

He has shed his jacket, draping it over one of his arms as he waits for Ingrid to reappear with their friend. He doesn’t wait long since she emerges from the manor, rubbing her arms and looking mildly annoyed. She waves her phone at him as she approaches.

“Thea texted me,” she explains as she approaches. “She left with Petra half an hour ago.” Sylvain laughs. “Of course she did.” He can’t tell if Dorothea left because she was super into Petra or if she was trying to leave Sylvain and Ingrid together for even longer while Ingrid was all dolled up. Knowing Dorothea, it was probably a twisted mix of both.

“Shall we go then?” Ingrid asks.

She shivers as she said it and Sylvain pulls his jacket off his arm and drapes it over her shoulder. She looks like she’s about to protest, but Sylvain places his hands on her shoulders and smooths the coat over her dress. The wispy blue dress doesn’t really match the dark charcoal suit jacket, but it kind of dwarfs her figure anyways.

“Sylvain?” a voice calls from the manor’s entrance before they can move a muscle.

Sylvain’s stomach tightens and he lifts his head to stare at the tiny blonde woman in the doorway of the house. She has delicate, china-like figures and an extremely expensive red dress on. He hasn’t seen her in a year and he really wishes he had gotten away before she had spotted him.

“Hello Mrs. Gautier,” Ingrid says politely.

Sylvain feels like hiding behind Ingrid, but he takes a deep breath. “Hi Mom,” he replies.

His mother looks like she is going to say something when a tall redheaded man appears next to her, his gaze sternly focusing on Sylvain and she says nothing.

“Sylvain,” his father says, his voice as hard as he remembers it.

Ingrid takes his hand and squeezes his fingers so hard that they hurt. “Hello Mr. Gautier,” she says, repeating the greeting for his other parent.

Sylvain’s father’s gaze darts to their connected hands and Sylvain’s jacket draped over Ingrid’s shoulders. “Miss Galatea,” he says like he barely remembers her name.

Ingrid keeps her head up and smiles plainly at his parents. She waits for him to take the lead, but she doesn’t let go of his hand. Sylvain squares his shoulders and nods to his father.

“Goodnight,” he says abruptly before turning and pulling Ingrid after him, heading for his car.

Thankfully, his parents don’t call after him or follow him so they make it to his car without issue. Ingrid gets in the passenger side and Sylvain climbs in the driver’s side. His hands curl around the wheel until his knuckles turn white.

“Are you okay to drive?” she asks.

“Only one glass,” he assures. “I’m fine.” “That’s not what I meant.”

He stays silent for a moment until the blood rushing in his ears settles and he feels like himself again. “I’m okay,” he promises.

“Okay,” Ingrid agrees.

She pulls his jacket off of her shoulders and drapes it over her lap so that she can fasten her seatbelt. Her palms smooth along the fabric of his jacket. Sylvain loosens his grip on the wheel and watches her for a moment. She doesn’t look at him again so he starts the car and starts driving them home.

The roads are mostly empty through the city as he pulls into the parkade of their apartment building. He kills the engine and they sit there in silence for a moment.

“You said you’d let me walk all over you and that you’d thank me and ask me to do it again,” Ingrid recalls as Sylvain reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt.

He tenses and looks at her. Her cheeks are pink and she finally lifts her head to look him in the face. Under the fluorescent lights of the parkade that filter through the windows of the car, she almost glows.

“What does that mean, Sylvain?” she asks.

A lie sticks in his throat and he tries to tell her the truth instead, but that gets stuck too, so he’s just stuck looking at her dumbly.

“Right,” she mutters. “I told her it was a long shot.”

Sylvain’s brow furrows and his hand shoots over to grab Ingrid’s wrist before she can let herself out of the car. “Long shot?”

She’s blushing fully now as she bites her lip. It hits him suddenly and totally and a bubble of happiness wells and bursts so quickly in his chest that he’s not entirely in control when he leans over the console and kisses her.

Her hands fist into his hair immediately and she kisses him back fiercely. Sylvain’s hands slide to her back and he coaxes her towards him. It’s awkward and a bit bumpy as she maneuvers into his lap, pressed between him and the steering wheel. They kiss furiously for a long second before Ingrid jerks away, gasping for breath.

Sylvain’s chest is heaving too, but Ingrid looks mussed. One of her pretty dress’s straps has slid down her shoulder and his jacket is abandoned on the floor of the passenger side. Her lipstick is smudged to nothing and her fancy hairdo is falling out. He brings a hand up to brush away wispy threads of blonde hair.

His love for her is written all over his face, but for the first time in a long time, he’s not afraid of it. Ingrid looks a bit shy and uncertain even though she’s literally perched in his lap in the front seat of a car and Sylvain laughs lightly.

“I love you,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a light kiss to her neck.

She sighs for a moment, but then hands pull his head back and she looks at him seriously. “It’s not a line, right?”

Sylvain slides his hands to her waist and squeezes, trying to let her feel the warmth of his palms through her dress. “Ain’t a line if it’s the truth, Ing,” he breathes.

She kisses him again and neither of them breaks it for a long time. Sylvain is pretty sure that he could die happy kissing Ingrid, but she makes a small noise of discomfort and he pulls back, staring at her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. She shifts closer to him so they’re pressed even closer than they were before. “Steering wheel,” she mutters.

Sylvain laughs and presses his forehead against her shoulder as he tries to stop laughing like a child. She runs her fingers through his hair and he can feel her give a breathy laugh too.

“I love you too,” she says. “But, please, for the love of god, we have an apartment upstairs.”

Sylvain smirks and presses a kiss to the junction of her shoulder and neck, opening his lips just enough to gently press his teeth against her skin for half a second. She practically shivers against him.

“And no nosy Felix,” he agrees and he opens the car door.

#the writing section #i've never loved (like this)#sylgrid #sylvgrid #sylvain jose gautier #ingrid brandl galatea #f: fire emblem #fic: i've never loved (like this)#c: ingrid brandl galatea #c: sylvain jose gautier #c: dorothea arnault #c: byleth #g: romance #g: friendship #rating: t+#words: 5.6k+#fe3h #fire emblem three houses

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porkchop-ao3 · 6 years

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Hi hi. I've been feeling down lately. Like I'm no ones favorite. Can I have a clingy obsessed Rick?

Thank you for your patience with this! Hope this is okay. I didn’t want to go too far with the obsessive thing in case it got out of character, but I hope you like it! I was inspired by my recent uni work... But this fic by no means reflects the way I work xD

Just over 3k words!

My eyes skimmed across the words on my computer screen as I took a sip of tea, the only break I would allow myself because hey, I needed to stay hydrated. As soon as the mug was out of my hands though, my fingers were back on the keyboard, tapping away and filling the screen with more text. Of course, at this point it was all laughable bullshit; as are most essays when they’re started four hours before the deadline. Every point was being dragged out to entire paragraphs, my evidence was being stretched as much as was acceptable to back me up, I’m pretty sure I’d questioned the meaning of life somewhere three paragraphs ago but I’d made it work. I couldn’t afford to go back and change it now anyway, at least whoever had the pleasure of marking the damn thing would have a good laugh. My lecturers had said that technically there were no right or wrong answers for this particular essay, as long as I could back up what I was saying… Well, there was some kind of evidence for everything I’d said so could they really dispute me?

It was all my fault, though. I’d been drifting off to a peaceful slumber, under the sweet illusion that I was completely done for the semester, when suddenly that five thousand word essay I’d forgotten about drifted into mind and jolted me awake. That was two hours ago, and it was currently four in the morning; just two hours away from the six o'clock deadline for the online submission. I was getting there though, just another two thousand words would do it.

With a stressed sigh, I flicked through the book in front of me, searching the index for keywords, absolutely anything I could use. I just needed a scrap of evidence, a slightly relevant quote, and I’d be good for at least two paragraphs. I laughed aloud when I found something, it was bordering on delerium at this point. I was back on the keyboard then, bashing out my next point, just letting the bullshit part of my brain run with it, barely registering what I was typing. I barely even flinched when the darkened room lit up with green light, I just sighed again, my fingers never pausing.

“Not now, Rick.” I said, narrowing my eyes at the screen, my concentration lapsing momentarily, making me forget my flow.

“Oh, oh wow, th-thanks, that’s really -urrghhh- nice.” Rick slurred behind me, and I knew straight away that he was hammered. I rolled my eyes and read through my last few sentences as I tried to tune him out. “I thought you said you were done, on- on the phone you said y-you were fin-ugh-shed.”

“Yeah, then I remembered this entire essay I had to do.” I murmured, what little I had left of my concentration shattering as I felt the warmth of his presence lean over me to look at the screen. His chest brushed my shoulder and he reached an arm out to lean on the desk, shrouding me in his presence.

“Uhhh, are you high? A-are you even reading what you’re writing right now?” He commented after a moment.

“No. To both of those questions.” I told him, carrying on with the essay despite his quips.

“I thought, urp, you were studying art, not ph-philosophy. That’s some deep shit you’re playing with there, what is your essay even supposed to be on?”

“Please Rick, just let me get on with this. If you’re here to get laid then come back tomorrow. Or in two hours, whatever, I don’t care. Just after this is done.” I grumbled. Rick made a sound of irritation, then straightened up, distancing himself from me. I heard him stumbling around the room, fiddling with stuff I couldn’t see. Then I heard the telltale trickle of liquid on metal as he took a drink from his flask.

“Just wanted to see you, s-sorry I’m such a- such a fucking inconvenience.” He said under his breath. I felt a spark of guilt, then brushed it off just as fast. My work had to come first on this occasion.

“I’ll be done soon.” I said, discarding the book in front of me and replacing it with a different one. Fresh book, fresh evidence.

Rick came back over to my desk, picking up a piece of paper, which I knew to be the essay brief. He then proceeded to flick through some of the other papers on my desk, notes, pictures, plans; all hastily done and probably illegible to anyone but me… and even I struggled to read it.

“S-so you gotta compare these two photographs?” He asked. I nodded, not looking up at the images he was showing me. “You talked about how one was taken by a woman and one was taken by a man? Y-you could, urp, could make somethin’ out of that, right?”

“Probably, toss the idea of feminism around and I could get about six hundred words done. Thanks.” I said, making a quick note of the idea in pencil on the closest piece of paper; the textbook. Rick grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and took a seat next to me, slinging an arm over the back of my chair.

“You wrote the word ‘interesting’ three times in the same sentence, there.” He told me, pointing to the screen. “You could change the third one to impactful, think that’d work.” He murmured, disinterestedly yet focused.

“You’re helping me?” I asked, finally looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Two heads are better than one.” He shrugged. “Would it help you finish faster?”

“I think so. Hell, I might even pass.” I snorted.

“Alright. Let’s get this done, then we can make out, how’s that sound?” He said distractedly, fiddling with a strand of my hair. I raised a brow at him.

“You’re acting strangely.” I noted. “You’re being… nice.”

“Wh-ugh-at, and I’m a cunt for the other three-hundred-and-sixty-whatever days of the year?” He slurred.

“No! You’re just nicer than usual.” I shrugged, turning back to the screen.

“I miss you.” He told me, his voice so quiet I barely heard it. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder more tightly and pulled me into his side. My eyes widened and I sat there, rigid under the unexpected contact. With the proximity, I could smell the alcohol on him, and was convinced that it was to blame. “I’ve barely seen you for two weeks.” He added, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“All my deadlines…” I trailed off. I didn’t need to explain, he knew.

“Still think you should drop out. School is bad enough, but art school?” He scoffed.

“Hey, it’s another three years I don’t have to worry about starting a proper career.” I told him, twisting to nestle into his chest, essay momentarily forgotten.

“Sure, but is it worth the thousands of dollars?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I sighed and closed my eyes, the fact that it was past four in the morning hit me in the form of sudden fatigue. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Rick’s hand stroked up and down my upper arm, his other hand feeding more alcohol into his mouth. He placed his flask down on my desk then reached for my chin, tilting my head up and kissing me, I responded for a while, leaning into him and enjoying the sensations. I knew I had to stop eventually though, and with a groan I turned my head towards to screen, breaking the kiss. Rick didn’t stop, spreading his kisses over my cheek and temple, down to the side of my neck. I sighed at the attention, but pulled away, turning to face the computer and attempting to get back to work. Rick’s arms encircled my waist, his kisses moving to the back of my neck and the curve of my shoulder, my body tingled and I longed to give him my undivided attention, but the clock was ticking.

“Okay, next point. Feminism.” I said under my breath, trying my very best to ignore what was going on behind me, but Rick wasn’t making it easy for me. His hands found their way to my breasts, squeezing them through my long nightshirt. My nipples hardened against his palms, and I chewed on my bottom lip.

“Remember, there are words other than 'interesting’.” He mumbled into my shoulder, and I snorted, backspacing on the keyboard as he caught me red handed.

“Thank you.” I said, my tone strained. Rick was quiet for another paragraph, silently distracting me with his touch, his persistent kisses egging me on, lighting a fire under me to get this shitty essay done so that I could be with him. I flicked through the book, finding a vague quote about female photographers. Perfect.

“S-sit on my lap, come on.” He whispered to me.

“What? No, I thought you wanted me to finish this quickly.” I laughed, gasping as he slid his hands under my shirt, resting his cool hands on my stomach.

“Come on.” He repeated, pulling me towards him. I gave in, sliding onto his lap, appreciating his little hum of approval as I did. I leaned back against his chest, and surprisingly I found that the rise and fall of his chest helped to focus me, and before I knew it I had another paragraph. I was close to the end; I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and all I needed to do was conclude. I saved the document, just in case, then skim read the entire essay. Sure, it was a fucking trainwreck from start to finish, but it would suffice. I made a mental note of the points I’d made, then made a start on my conclusion.

“Almost there.” I said, biting on my lip as I summed up my essay, pulling it all together to create what I hoped would be a convincing conclusion. A few hundred words later, and it was done, with an hour to spare before the deadline. I was on the low end of the word count guideline, but it would have to do. I checked my references, made sure my bibliography was in order, and loaded up the essay submission page.

“Aren’t you gonna read it back?” Rick asked me, his hands sliding down to my thighs.

“I don’t think it’ll make much difference at this point.” I said, uploading the file. “It’s better than nothing, right? At least I’ve produced an essay.”

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes and clicked 'submit’, immediately closing down the page along with all my other windows, putting the whole ordeal to the back of my mind as I shut the computer down.

“Whatever, it’s done now.” I said, feeling the weight lifting from my shoulders with those words.

“Finally.” Rick said, standing up and forcing me to do the same. He dragged me over to my bed by my wrist and pulled me on top of him as he threw himself down. He kissed me, pushing his tongue past the easily broken seal of my lips, moaning into me. His hands explored my body, feeling me all over like they were starved. “Mm, missed this.” He broke away to tell me, but not for long. He rolled onto his side, grabbing my thigh and hooking it over his hip, putting our groins close together. He ground into me, and I felt his growing erection against my core.

“Rick.” I protested. “This is all you’ve been waiting for?” I asked, irritation clear in my voice. Rick didn’t stop his grinding, groaning quietly.

“Please.” He sounded unusually desperate, and I raised a brow. When I didn’t respond, he slid his hand into my underwear, rolling my clit beneath his fingers in lazy circles. “It’s been so long…”

“It’s been two weeks. I’m tired. I just want to cuddle.” I whined, but that didn’t stop me from effectively riding his hand, tilting my hips into his touch. His fingers moved down, sliding between my slick folds and entering me. I cursed under my breath and clung to his lab coat.

“I want you. Fuck, you’re wet.” He whispered to me, thrusting his fingers, groaning when I tightened around him, my breath catching. “Let me…” he trailed off, his other hand going to his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his pants, he stroked himself as he pleasured me. I gave my approval by pushing his coat from his shoulders and lifting his shirt over his head. He kicked his pants off onto the floor then came close to me, pulling my panties aside.

“Woah, slow down.” I laughed, bracing a hand on his chest. I pulled my nightshirt over my head and tossed it behind me, meanwhile, Rick was pulling my panties down my legs.

“I need to- oh, fuck.” He sighed, staring at my body. He leaned in to kiss me again, a hand on the back of my neck. “How did I go so long without this? Y-you’re like fuckin’… Crack. C’mere.” He urged me closer, thrusting his cock between my legs, letting it slide across my pussy. I wrapped my leg around his hips and nestled closer.

“Do it.” I told him, my words little more than an exhale. I didn’t have to ask him twice, he sunk into me slowly, inch by sweet inch he filled me up. “Oh yes…” I sighed, my eyes falling closed. There was a slight sting, having been a while since we’d done this, but it mingled with the pleasure so nicely.

“Have you touched yourself these last two weeks?” He asked me.

“I’m sorry?” I exclaimed, confused and taken aback by the question.

“I wanna know if- how many times you came without me since the last time we did this.” He said, and I flushed, involuntarily rocking my hips.

“Not even once.” I told him truthfully.

“Mmm, bet you’re sensitive, hmm?” He asked, his fingers returning to my clit as he started moving, rocking into me at a moderate pace that showed little patience. I was grateful for it.

“Yes. I want you to make me cum.” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck and threading one hand through his hair. He thrust harder, quickening his pace early on and groaning throatily.

“Fuck.” He spat, his free hand clinging to my thigh. I pulsed my muscles around him, feeling shockwaves of pleasure each time, I let my head roll back as I bucked my hips to meet his thrusts, trapping his hand between our bodies. “Ohh god, you’re so gorgeous. So fuckin’ perfect, fuck.”

It turned into desperate, unrefined rutting, but neither of us had the intention of drawing this out. This was needy. Desperate. Purely lust-fueld. I needed release, and I needed to feel Rick cum inside me. I hadn’t realised how much I had needed this, and now that I was getting it, I couldn’t get it fast enough. Rick kissed my throat, leaving sloppy wet marks across the column of my neck, then he bit down on my shoulder. He sucked and licked at me, tasting the salt of my perspiration. His fingers moved purposefully over my clit, rubbing it tight, quick circles that wrung the pleasure out of me effortlessly.

“Cum. I want you to squeeze my- squeeze the cum out of my balls, baby.” He growled, and his words alone sent waves through my body, dizzyingly intense pleasure that pushed me to the edge. “Mmm, feel how wet you are for me, did you miss this?”

“Yes, Rick.” I nodded wildy, hanging off the edge, ready to plummet. With one particularly rough thrust of his hips, I was gone. “Rick!” I called his name loudly, completely forgetting about the thin walls of my dorm room. My pussy throbbed around him, contracting with an orgasm that I could only describe as perfect. It felt like it would go on forever, building with an intensity that made my eyes squeeze shut. I wasn’t even finished when Rick joined me, and I drew his climax into me, welcoming it with a satisfied groan.

We came down together, slowing to a stop and letting our bodies slump against the bed. Rick pulled out of me and proceeded to stroke his softening cock against my opening, smearing his seed in a display of vulgar pride. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Mmm, look at that.” He commented quietly, spreading my lips with his fingers and watching the mess he was making with interest. I left him to it, closing my eyes and letting the sleepless nights from the previous week catch up with me. Rick pressed a couple of kisses to my forehead, letting out a satisfied sigh. The bed shifted as he got up to leave, and I was momentarily offended, until I heard the bathroom door opening. He returned a moment later with a washcloth, and gently cleaned us up. I hummed appreciatively, pulling him back over to me, he dragged the duvet with him and covered us up.

“So you missed me, hmm?” I said tiredly, a little smile on my face.

“Don’t get any ideas.” He warned, but wrapped his arms around me regardless.

“You love me.” I smirked. The only response I got was an exasperated sigh. I laughed to myself, and tucked my head under his chin. “Goodnight.”

“It’s half past five in the morning.” He commented in amusement. “We might as well start the day at this point.”

“Fuck that. I’m sleeping through till next week.” I said. He grunted, then pecked the top of my head.

“Well done, for getting all your shit finished.” He said, though it sounded like it pained him to say it. I smiled regardless. “Glad to have you back.” He added, punctuating his words with a squeeze of his arms.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #fanfiction

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fanfic-from-a-67-impala · 6 years

Text

A Supernatural x Reader Story Chapter Twenty-Nine: Pac-Man Fever, Part One

Word count: 3676

(You can also read it on Wattpad here)

Masterlist

"They’re called ‘Leviathan’?" Christine repeats through the phone.

"Yeah, stubborn sons of bitches," you mumble, distractedly. "Cut off the head, lock it up halfway across the country. And if you've got any borax, bring it."

"Like the cleaner?"

"Exactly. Burns them like acid, trust me," you say.

"All right, I'll give it a try," she says. "Thanks, (Y/N)."

"You got it. Be careful, Christine."

Though the glow of the computer pokes at the backs of your eyes, you barely look down as you set your phone on the table in favor of raising your mug of lukewarm coffee to your lips, your full attention redirecting to the footage on the screen.

Dean walks through the library entryway. "Who was that?"

Your eyes barely leave the computer as you answer. "Hunter, needed some info. Since Garth went MIA, I've been picking up the slack. Hunting circle's chaos, and –" you point to the screen "– we're still down a prophet."

He peeks over your shoulder at the security camera feeds and a slip of paper on the table with an address you scrawled onto it. "So, you're like the... new new Bobby?"

You roll your eyes at his comment before letting them settle back on the screen.

He grins at the nickname, but the lightness in his tone fades when you don't respond. "You really should get some sleep."

"I slept," you lie, too quickly.

He raises his eyebrows to your coffee cup, but you ignore the gesture.

"You know I want to get these trials done as much as you do..."

"It's not just that, Dean," you say, sighing. "He went from Kevin Tran, Advanced Placement to Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord."

He shrugs, turning his mouth down in bewilderment.

"We ruined the kid's life."

"Some people get dealt the short straw. You know that," he says.

The exasperation creeping into his voice makes you bite back an argument. He doesn't deserve to have your crap piled on top of everything he already has on his mind.

"I just want him found," you sigh. "I want him to translate the last trial, and I want to get him back to his mom, to a normal life."

"You and me both," he says. "So, you get anything?"

"Tracked his phone to an address in Warsaw."

"What, you found him?"

"I found his phone," you clarify. "He's a smart kid. He probably ditched it and took off. But I'm going to drive up there and check it out."

"When do we leave?"

"It's probably nothing," you say, rising from your seat. "You stay here and keep an eye on the cameras. And your brother."

"So, no word from Garth?" he asks.

You shake your head no. "And I've called every hunter I know – radio silence."

He catches your arm as you grab the slip of paper. "We'll find him."

"Right," you sigh. "I'm going to start packing up, and then –"

You cut yourself off when Sam stumbles through the doorway. Dark circles have made their home below his eyes, prominent against his pale face. He runs his hands through his disheveled hair, then wraps his wrinkled sweatshirt around himself.

"Man, I'm telling you – give me five minutes with some clippers," Dean comments, gesturing to his hair.

"Oh, shut up," Sam groans.

You walk over to him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he insists.

"Yeah, you look fine," you scoff, raising a hand to his forehead, though you can feel the radiating heat before your skin meets his.

He blinks his eyes at you as if trying to focus them before his hand flies out to grip your shoulder.

"Whoa, hey," you exclaim, taking his elbow in your hand as he sways on his feet.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he assures you, eyes shut tight as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Tentatively, you let him go, not convinced. "Right."

You turn to Dean, who also has worry in his eyes as they skate over his brother, though he hides it.

"Drink something, kid," you tell Sam, patting him on the arm as you step toward the doorway.

In your room, you pack your duffel with weapons, some first aid supplies, and a jacket. As you slide your angel blade into the bag, a thought occurs to you.

You shake your head, kicking yourself for allowing it to cross your mind, and continue packing.

It nags at you, though, like a responsibility you want to ignore but it continues to wear on you. Your feet walk themselves to the door of their own accord and your hands reach out to close it.

The four walls encourage you, give you a sort of comforting privacy.

"This is stupid," you mutter. You have no reason to believe your words will be heard by any ears other than your own. You have no idea how to begin, what to say. Pleading with some omnipresent force you aren't sure exists can only be a waste of time. Even if, by some miracle, they could hear you, why would they listen to a soul stained with Hell?

Your eyes dart up to the ceiling. "Stupid," you repeat, bringing them down again to glance around the room. You become aware of your hands. You were supposed to clasp them, right? Or fold them, maybe? You shake your head again and cross your arms over your chest.

You swallow back your pride.

"I don't ask you for favors, ever. But this is my family on the line."

The room reverts back to silence as soon as the words leave your lips. Were you expecting something more? Some bright white light or a gust of wind, or a voice whispering back to you?

"Sam Winchester is one of the best people to walk this earth, and you know it," you hiss to the empty room. "He doesn't deserve to have closing the gates of Hell on his shoulders."

Your words burn like acid, full of more rage than you thought you had. The stinging of tears pricks your eyes, blurring your vision.

"Those boys are all I have." Your voice breaks, tears leaving your eyes to trail down your cheeks.

You force gasping breaths into your lungs when the air has been pushed out.

"They save the world, and they do nothing but good," your cries escape your lips at almost a whisper now. "So, you get him out of this in one piece."

The room remains empty.

Wiping your face, you finish packing and swing your bag over your shoulder.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

As you head out the door, a buzzing sounds from your pocket. You pause to dig out your phone and check the screen.

"Hey, Tasha," you answer the witch and hunter, clearing your throat when the words come out drained of energy.

"(Y/N), I got your message. I'm so sorry to hear your friend's gone missing," a tender voice coos through the speaker. "I wanted to let you know I've told everyone I know to keep an eye out for him."

You pause mid-step to breathe a sigh of relief, feeling her voice chip away a bit of the weight you have been carrying.

"I really appreciate that," you say, continuing down the hall.

"It's not a problem," she says. "Listen, I'm at home in between cases now. If you're nearby, I'd be happy to give you a tracking spell."

Your eyes widen, a small candle of hope flaming after hours of grasping at air without so much as a spark.

"Really? Th-that would be amazing. I don't know how to thank you," you say.

She breathes a gentle laugh. "Please, it's the least I can do. My children tell me you saved their lives last year."

"Oh, they're too nice," you admit.

"Nevertheless, I'd like to help. Besides, it's been years since I've seen you last. You'll need to bring something that belongs to your friend. Do you remember where my place is?" she asks.

"I think so. Thank you, Tasha, really," you say, the library light catching your eye. "Tell your kids hi for me."

You pocket your phone again, striding across the war room. "Guys, do we have anything of –"

The presence of a third figure in the room cuts you off. She leans against the back of a chair, her stunned eyes following you. Her hair is different than when you saw her last, longer and wavy, but she still dons the colorful wardrobe you associate with her.

She looks happy.

You barely notice your bag dropping to the floor, gaping, until your lips are able to form her name. "Charlie."

You move toward each other, slowly at first, until you envelop her in your arms and feel her press into you as well, her body fitting against yours in a comfortable embrace, as if no time has passed. She still has the orange shampoo scent you didn't realize how much you missed until now.

"Man, I missed you," she says, pulling away.

You smile at her, about to tell her you missed her too, but your mind catches on something else and you inspect her from arm's length.

"Wait, what's wrong? What are you doing here?" you rush.

"I'm good," she chuckles at your alarm. "I was in Topeka for a comic convention, and I caught wind of a case. Figured you guys could check it out."

You follow her back into the library, where a tablet rests on the table, displaying a grid of images representing different monsters, some with red X's through them.

"Hold on a minute," you say. "What are you doing looking into this stuff?"

"Well, after these guys saved my life the last time, I dug into all things monstrous," she explains. "I'm a wee bit obsessive. If 'wee bit' means completely."

You give her a disapproving frown.

"I also found this series of books, by Carver Edlund?" she continues.

The boys exchange disgruntled scowls. "We need to find every single copy of those books and burn them," Sam says.

"They're online now, so good luck with that," Charlie says.

"Awesome," Dean mutters, rising from his seat. "You two crazy kids deal with that. I will go see if there's anything to this case of yours."

"I'm coming with you," Sam says. He starts toward his brother, but staggers on his feet. Charlie throws an arm out to him before he falls over.

"That's not going to happen," you say.

"She's right. You're taking a knee as long as you're off your game," Dean informs him.

"I'll go with you," Charlie says, excitement in her tone.

"That's not going to happen either," you assert, even more firmly.

She furrows her brows at you. "Wh–"

"Charlie, we have no idea what this thing is. You're not charging into it half-cocked with zero experience under your belt," you argue.

"I've got to start somewhere."

"No, you don't! You shouldn't be anywhere near this stuff," you hiss.

As if you share a brain, you both look to Dean.

"I– uh..." He glances between the two of you, shifting weight between his feet, trying to appear busy.

"I'm coming with," Charlie insists.

"Absolutely not," you say.

"And I guess that's your call to make?" she snaps. "After a year without so much as a text message."

Her words feel like a blow to the chest, because she's right. The time you spent trying to keep her out of this life has made you two strangers again.

You breathe a deep sigh, lowering your voice. "I can't stop you. But I can't – I won't do this. If Dean wants to take you, fine."

He studies you with a question in his eyes, and you nod, a hint of a warning in your gaze, telling him to look out for her.

"Come with me," he tells her, leading her out of the room.

She gives you a lingering glance before following him, and you watch her back until she turns the corner, out of your sight.

"You okay?" Sam asks.

You tear your eyes away from the doorway to meet his tired ones. "Fine," you hum.

He runs his hands through his hair, pulling the tangles out of his face. You shut your mouth before you can tell him to sit down or something.

"Do we have anything of Kevin's?" you tear your focus away from the argument. "I have a friend who might be able to help find him."

"Uh..." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. "This work?"

You unfold the paper and find the Enochian characters of the trial spell scratched out in dark ink. The corners of your lips turn up. "You just carry that around in your pocket?"

He shrugs, a smile forming on his own lips. You think of how nice it is to see him happy, even if for only a moment, before it disappears into a yawn.

He must sense your apprehension, because he forces another smile. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, okay," you agree, your eyes not leaving him. "If you need anything –"

"I'll call," he finishes.

You roll your eyes before leaving him with a kiss on the cheek, collecting your bag from where you dropped it in the next room, and heading for the door.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

A sharp breeze encircles you in the nighttime air, pulling tendrils of hair up to tickle your face as you open the car door. With a deep breath, you force away the worry pressing into the forefront of your mind. Charlie's in good hands, you tell yourself. Dean knows what he's doing. He's got this.

Let's go find ourselves a prophet. You chuckle when you hear Dean's voice in your head uttering the last line.

After finding Kevin's phone in a trash can outside an abandoned theater, you made the drive to a small cottage outside of Duluth where Tasha lives.

The soft light through the windows welcomes you. The door opens after your first bout of knocking.

"(Y/N)," Tasha Banes greets with a smile before pulling you into a hug. You breathe in the leather of her jacket, the spices and herbs that always seem to linger around the house, even now. She seems to have barely aged a day, though you last saw her almost ten years ago.

She pulls away and takes you by the shoulders, studying you up and down, head tilted with a confused expression.

"Wow," she gasps. "I must be going crazy. I don't remember you having all this... natural energy."

Heat flushes your cheeks as you realize what she must sense. "The witch thing."

She ushers you down the hall and into the kitchen, where she has lined up supplies – candles, cauldrons, glass jars filled with herbs and powders – along the counter.

"Cliff Notes version, I sold my soul, a demon pulled me out of the pit, and now I have... whatever I have," you explain.

She continues to study you, even as she pours a glass of red wine, then another. "What you have is magic. Untapped," she notes.

"You can tell that?"

"Your energy," she says, "it's still raw. Mind if I ask why?"

Your heartbeat quickens in a panic. "I, uh– I don't h-hate magic. It's just, um, it's not my life," you stammer.

"That's okay," she says with an understanding nod. "It's not for everyone."

You take the glass she hands to you and familiarize your tongue with the bitter drink you haven't tasted in years.

"Although, if you decide it is for you, I would be happy to provide some guidance," she adds.

"I'll keep it in mind," you say, politely, though you don't imagine ever accepting the offer.

Max and Alicia, you learn, are still doing well. You've been hunting with the Winchesters. Tasha has been moonlighting as a peddler of potions and spells. You catch up with each other until your glasses are empty.

"Shall we?" she says

You hand her the slip of paper and fill the glasses with water when she asks you to and you follow her to a round coffee table at the opposite end of the room, which she has covered in a black cloth. She lights five candles and places them in a circle on the tabletop, setting the glasses inside the circle on either side of Kevin's paper. She gestures for you to sit down across from her and take her hands.

"Whoa, last time I did this, I got an hour-long stomach flu," you warn her.

She breathes a faint chuckle. "Not to worry. It's a simple spell – nothing to lose your lunch over."

You reach across the table to place hesitant hands in hers.

"Ad fontes, ad fontes, ad fontes," she chants. To the source. The water before you becomes a purple light, and her eyes glow the same luminous violet.

She peers into her glass, and you follow suit. Encompassed within the gleaming circle, flecks of light pepper a dark atmosphere. A movement, which you can only compare to zooming into an image on a screen, takes you toward a body of light. As it becomes closer, the light dims to reveal itself as a globe. The image fixates on an expanse of land the shape of North America and continues to direct itself toward the central stretch of the United States. Moments pass with only stretches of green until the darker, blue green of a body of water becomes large enough to see. The zooming slows as the image appears to reach its mark, honing in on a group of buildings surrounded by a familiar harbor.

Your heart sinks with the fading purple glow.

"Mean something to you?" she asks.

"It's where he disappeared from," you explain, hiding your disappointment after she went through all the trouble of performing the spell for you.

She senses it anyway and gives you an apologetic frown.

You bring yourself back to your feet. "I should check it out."

"Why don't you let me cleanse your aura before you go?" she suggests. "You seem stressed."

"That's okay. I, uh... live off the stress," you say, laughing at how dismal the words sound.

She nods. "Another time, then. Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

You pick your bag up off the floor and swing it over your shoulder. "What, because of all the wine?" you joke.

"The stronger stuff was always more your style," she comments.

"Thanks again, Tasha," you call over your shoulder head back down the hall.

"You're always welcome," she smiles. "And give training in witchcraft a second thought. I think you'd find it enlightening."

You nod. "I'll think it over."

• • • • • • • • • • • •

The sky has already turned a light grey by the time you slip through the door, casting a morning glow on the driveway and sending a welcome gust of cool air through your hair and across your neck.

You stretch out your back. Where James' spell made you sick to your stomach, Tasha's left you with an ethereal energy, a sort of weightlessness, making you feel as if the world is yours to conquer.

No wonder so many witches become evil, you think, kicking yourself for even considering her offer.

Before you open the car door, your phone vibrates in your pocket, stopping you in your tracks.

You hesitate to check the name that flashes on the screen and almost don't answer, wishing away the tightening knot in your stomach.

"Is she with you?" Dean's voice booms through the speaker before you can say anything.

The knot forces the air out of your lungs. You can't speak, can't breathe, can't even see anything past the images flashing in your mind of the night Charlie was caught in the middle of the fight with Dick Roman. Her terrified screams, clutching her broken arm, the panic in her eyes.

"(Y/N)?!"

You flinch at the sharp yank back into the present. "She's missing?" you breathe.

"She went on a food run last night and she hasn't been back," he says.

"And you waited until now to tell me?" you snap, slamming your door closed.

He doesn't answer. "How soon can you get here?"

"I'm three states away," you utter the hopeless words.

A silence passes between the two of you, heavy with dreadful worry.

You swallow against the tightness in your throat, pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the road so quickly you jerk back in your seat. "So, fill me in. What are we thinking?"

"We tracked her phone to a motel, found her crash pad. She wasn't messing around. Fake IDs, passports – all hers. And she's been donating money to a hospital in Topeka, a patient named Gertrude Middleton. That name ring any bells?"

"None." You think back to the months you spent in her apartment. She shared with you long nights fading into early mornings, inside jokes and dreams and passion. You knew she had a past, and she must have known you had one, too. Still, neither of you asked.

You kick yourself for it now.

"And what about that case you two are on?"

"It's a djinn. My money's on the same thing that took her," he says.

"So, we've got, what – two, three days, maybe?" you guess.

"No, this thing is some kind of offshoot. People were turning up dead less than a day after they went missing, their insides turned to jelly."

"The prehispanic variation," you muse. "What do we know about it?"

"Right now, zip. We're working on it."

Your stomach does flips, turning over and over as you hit the gas even harder. "Dean, work fast."

You hear Sam's voice, indistinct in the background, prompting his brother.

"I promise you, I will find her," Dean whispers.

You sigh. "I know you will."

#Supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #Spn fanfic #Spn #Pac-Man Fever #Spn 8x20 #Charlie x Reader #Charlie Bradbury #series #A Supernatural x Reader Story #crimson and clover #wlw reader #writing is hard

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pretend-im-not-there · 7 years

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A Zircons Dream

I wanted to work on my original fic idea, but this popped into my head instead. The idea originally started with the simple idea “Peridot runs away from Home(world)” and grew from there. Also pulled the ending from this idea and picture.

Loosely based on AU’s from @drawbauchery. I crossed so many streams here.

Rating: uhhh... K+? T? Somewhere in there.

Wordcount: 1,875

You are Blue Zircon, and you are pacing. You reach one end of your domicile and turn to walk to the first side again. Your eyes flick over to the timepiece on the wall for what seems the millionth time. It's only passed five seconds since the last time you looked at it.

Your little jewel never stayed out this late. You didn't want to believe it, but maybe the rumors were true. Maybe Peridot was friends with some bad gems.

You shake the idea from your head. Your sweet little fiver would never hang around some delinquent gems. She knows better than that. She was just… working late.

Your heart settles down as the entrance opens. You pop out into the entrance hall to see your Peridot wiping her limb enhancers off. She was also wearing an odd piece of clothing that you don't remember her shifting into before. A strange thing covering the top half of her body and arms.

You run to her and hug her to you. “Oh, sweetie, I was so worried! Where were you? Why were you out so late?”

It was then you realized that the two of you weren't alone in the entrance. Standing on the other side of the entrance portal was a very familiar Lapis Lazuli.

“What is she doing here?” The words practically hiss through clenched teeth. You had dealt with this Lapis before and knew that she wasn't good enough for your precious shining gem.

Peridot squirms out of your embrace and fixes you with a frown. “I already told you. I’m going out with Lapis.”

“And I told you that I don't want her near our domicile. I don't want her corrupting influence anywhere near my shining jewel.” You try to hug her again, but she moves away from you. Odd.

Her frown stays on her features as she says, “She’s not corrupting me! I’m having fun!”

The Lapis at least has the decency to look a little ashamed of herself. She rubs the back of her head as she says, “Maybe I should come back-”

“NO,” Peridot shouts out as she places her hands on her hips.

You shake your finger at her. “5xg, what have I told you about interrupting gems.”

A couple adjuster pins wrap themselves around your finger. You look at Peridot and see she is sneering at you. “You are not my Diamond, Zircon. I am a grown, fully functional Kindergartener, and I don’t have to listen to anything you say.”

You frown and pull your finger away from the pins. “You are living in my quarters, young gem. I make the rules here.”

“Than maybe I’ll just leave!”

The shouted words stop you in your tracks. Your little gem, leave? You wouldn’t even be able to bear it. “Wh-wh-wh…” You swallow your words and try to start again but she’s already talking.

“If you don’t want the gem I love to be here, then I’ll just leave here too.” She turns around to face the Lapis as tears start to build up in your eyes. “C’mon, Lapis. Let’s go.”

You try to reach out to stop her, but your arm feels like lead. When it finally does move, it feels like Peridot is miles away rather than right in front of you.

“Where are we going?”

You lift your foot to try and race out the door in front of them, but the hallway extends before you. You try to run to catch up to their backs, but they’re already outside the entrance portal.

“We’re running away from Homeworld.”

You only just reach the portal when you hear an odd rumbling noise. You look out the portal to see your precious gem flying off on the back of some strange wheeled device. You can’t even see the pointed tip of her hair underneath the head protector she had on.

Your shining light was gone.

---

You jolt awake, your gem pulsing light against the shadowy desk and planks in front of you. Looking around, you recognize the barn that you’ve been staying in and try to calm yourself. You are safe, and Peridot didn’t run away from you.

Still, that was a weird experience. It must have been what Peridot and Lapis called a dream. If so, you never want to have one again. It was kind of different from what they described it as. Though you think you know what the culprit of that is.

You look down at the computer that “Steven” had given to you. On it was a browser opened to a video site asking if you were still watching. You click “no” on it and it brings up the title page for the family drama you were watching through the night. Never again if things like that happen.

You set the computer aside as you pick up the mug sitting nearby. It was filled with another thing the Quartz had introduced to you called “Coffee”. They could call it dirt as far as you were concerned, but it was the most wonderful liquid in existence to you right now. With a little additives for the flavor.

You sip at the coffee as you lean against the desk that the gems here decided to make for you. You guess that it was a pretty good thing that “Steven” grabbed your gem before he left Homeworld, though you’ll probably never get used to calling Rose Quartz that. He brought you to your Peridot, after all. Everything else is just a great bonus.

Speaking of, you look towards the barn door as you hear your name being called out by Peridot. Every time it’s repeated it seems to be coming closer, so you decide to wait for her. After all, you’re sure that whatever she has can wait till she reaches you. When she comes into view, you smile and wave as she runs towards you.

Once she’s finally inside the barn, she smiles up at you and you swear you’re blind now. Her smile has blinded you. “Zircon! I finally found one!”

You give a little smile as you ask her, “Found one what?” She smiles excitedly as she holds up a-

“What is that?”

She sets it down on it’s four legs on your desk before answering, “Humans call it a cat. It’s a small animal that lives in boxes and makes strange noises. I’ve seen them on the net.”

You keep a careful eye on the… cat, as it walks across your desk. It doesn’t seem to do much, so you must have to activate it somehow. Reaching out, you gently poke it with a finger and are surprised by how soft it feels. Still, poking it doesn’t seem to do anything to it. It must be defective. You refuse to crush your shining jewels heart, though.

You smile at Peridot before saying “Thank you Peridot. It’s a lovely thing for you to show to me, but I don’t think I’m ready for a… “cat” just yet. Maybe you should show it to Lapis.”

She pops off an “Okay” before grabbing the creature and running off to find her barnmate. At the moment, she is technically your barnmate too, but you are looking for some other space to live. You don’t want to get in the way of your precious stars life here, after all.

You turn back to a bit of work you were taking care of on the computer. It isn’t long, though, before your work is interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“Fiver, I thought you were looking for La-” Your words stop short as you turn to see who was approaching you.

Standing there was not Peridot but, rather, the Amethyst that lived with Steven. 8xm, you believe, though she is just called Amethyst. “Oh, Amethyst. I thought you were Peridot.”

She seems to sweat a little once you’ve mentioned Peridot. All she says, though, is, “Oh, no problem. It happens.”

The conversation seems to lapse a bit as you both look at each other. She seems to be having a difficult time, though, as sweat seems to pour off of her. Hoping to help her along, you ask, “Is there something you needed?”

Her eyes seem to pop before she draws back a bit. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing much… It’s just…” You wait patiently as she seems to fumble for the right words. If there’s one thing being around Peridot has taught you, it’s that patience can get you a lot with some gems.

Finally, she sighs before looking you right in the eyes.

“You’re kinda hot, Zircon. Do you wanna make out?”

---

“And that’s what I remember about my dream last night.” You watch the shorter girl in the green tank-top sitting across from you as she looks over her textbook. She may look like she’s not listening, but you know better. “What do you think it means?”

She snaps her book closed, obviously done with whatever she was looking over, before answering, “It means that you’re afraid of commitment, Bella.”

You look at her, your eyes half lidded and a frown on your face. “I wish. Then I wouldn’t have been so set on a major in Law. But seriously, Priscilla.”

She shrugs, “If you wanted serious, you probably shouldn’t be asking someone in a technical major. Psych is across the campus from us.”

She picks up her book from the table as you both stand up and head to your dorm rooms. The two of you had become fast friends since you were assigned rooms right next to each other, though you more often look after her than the other way around. Still, you both liked watching over each other.

Before you could enter your room, Priscilla called out, “By the way…” You turn to look at her, giving your full attention. “I’m probably gonna be out for the night. Amy called me up and wanted to hit the McDonalds and get sick off their food.”

You shake your head. You’re pretty sure they wouldn’t get sick, but this is Amy you’re talking about. “I’m not gonna be the one who buys you medicine for your aching stomach.”

Lies. You would happily make a medicine run if she was in any pain. You would probably have it before she even called you.

She rolls her eyes. “Pfft, as if I’d need it.” You both giggle as your doors open for you. “I’ll call you when I get back, mom.”

You both stop in your tracks as you process what was just said. The word practically hangs in the air as you turn your head to look at her.

Did she just…?

She blushes as she stammers. “Th-That was just an accident!”

Your grin practically breaks your face. You almost tackle her as you pull her into a hug. “That was so cute!”

She squirms as she tries to push you away, but you have her beat in strength here. You practically swing her around as you gush over her calling you mom.”Oh my sweet little Prissy! Don’t you worry, momma’s gonna make it all better.”

She practically shouts over your laughter. “It was an accident! It was all a joke!”

#Blue Zircon #Peridot #Amethyst #Lapis Lazuli #Mom Zircon AU #Heat AU #Biker Lapis AU #Human AU #College AU #Fast food AU #Fanfiction #steven universe #SU #SU fanfiction #@drawbauchery

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shadowsmystic-blog · 7 years

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Blue Bolt and the Birth of the Warlock Chapter 2: In the Palm of his Hands?

(Also Available to read on Ao3)

Blue Bolt and the Birth of The Warlock

Superhero AU

Shadowhunters

Relationships~ Malec ~others to be added

The city of Idris is corrupted by gangs and power hungry tyrants.

After ten years of absence Alec Lightwood has returned to fulfil his destiny.

By day he's stinking rich and running the family business. Trying to juggle competitors and a meddling Journalist.

By night he's The Blue Bolt. A crime fighter armed with ancient gifts and the heart of a warrior.

This will be a multi-chapter, multi-part series!

Heros/Villains both positively psychotic and downright ridiculous!

(Loosely based on existing Superhero characters with plenty of references!)

Alec stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his blue bandanna across his face, dusting off the creases in his top.

“The more I look at you...the more you look like Sub Zero” Sebastian smirked from where he was leaning on the doorway to the bedroom. In his hand he held a blue and black baton. “It’s good as new...just a little grubby” He held it out as Alec adjusted his gloves, he took the baton and slipped it into his thigh holster. “Be careful out there sir”

“Don’t worry yourself about me...worry about how soon we can get the attic sorted…then we’ll flip this so we have the advantage” He patted his friend’s shoulder and left the room, moving gracefully down the stairs and pulling a black hood up over his head to cover his hair. The attic was set to be a base of operations of sort.

---

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

Magnus dropped his rucksack onto the floor as he shut the door behind him, his head was still spinning.

“Magnus Bane are you drunk?!” The woman was practically half the size of him but this didn’t stop her as she man handled his shoulders to bring her to his level, using her thumbs to push his eyelids up and having a look at his bloodshot and glassy eyes.

“Mum please”

“Don’t Mum please me young man” She gave him a little smack on the back of the head, causing him to groan. “To bed! I’m cancelling the WiFi for the rest of the week”

“I need that to work!”

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to just rock in at 4 in the morning, didn’t respond to my calls or messages...before you made me fear for my son’s safety” Her voice cracked as she pulled him into her arms sobbing, he sighed and stroked his hand through her hair.

“Mum...I’m alright...I can look after myself…”

“I know...I just...with your work…”

“Shh...shhh...come on...you go back to bed...I promise I’ll stay in tonight...we can watch the Golden Girl reruns together you recorded?” He smiled as she nodded and wiped her eyes on a handkerchief. Waiting until she was gone from the room he grabbed his bag again taking deep breaths and getting into the bathroom.

What the hell happened?! Grabbing his broken glasses he threw them to the side dragging water from the tap to splash over his face. Taking paracetamol from the cabinet and knocking two back he looked over his face in the mirror. He didn’t look any different. Eyes bloodshot, holding the back of his head he felt the blood from where he’d bumped his head at dried. He switched on the shower and started to strip down, stepping up and under the spray he carefully began to scrub the dirt and chemical marks from his skin. Checking across to the mirror above the sink he looked over his thin frame and checked for anything left.

Later on when he was lying in bed, he thought back to the night. He remembered being pushed over the railing but after that he woke up by the docks, covered in dirt and feeling like he’d been on a heavy drinking binge. What was in those vats. Against his better judgement he knew he’d have to go back there. Just not yet, he was still terrified from the clear attempt on his life. He’d have to lay low for a while.

---

It was looking to be a promising night, like always, Alec already stopped a couple of muggings. It was only when he heard a scream off on the lower side of the city he stood up where he was perched on a rooftop, starting to head towards the sound he passed across balconies and gutterings without a single footstep to be heard. Incredibly light on his feet when he needed to be. Reaching the definite source moments later he looked down to see four men surrounding a young girl. It was raining by this point and she looked scared half to death. Hardly surprising.

The girl had her handbag swinging it trying to keep them back, a pepper spray in the other. The men were just getting closer, assessing the best course of action Alec checked his weapons. There was no need for them, the men were unarmed and on close inspection nothing more than a couple of thugs with dark intentions.

Jumping down he landed on the shoulders of the one at the back, his skins pushing him down to the ground with a thud, his body had crumpled under the force and knocked him unconscious. The other three had turned round at the commotion and began shouting abuse, running over.

One kick, two punches and finally a palm to the chest of a man now on the ground. Three men now writhing in pain and discomfort while the fourth was still sleeping like a baby.

“T-Thank you” Alec took a deep breath and centered himself once more, turning to the woman who was now stood looking at the men on the floor, she was soaked to the skin. “What did you do?” She was clearly trying to comprehend the speed in which Alec had carried out the attacks.

He looked around. He’d kicked baldy in the gut...punched the guy with no teeth’s arm from it’s socket...then punched that guy trying to crawl away in the family jewels...then proceeded to push baldy back down when he tried to foolishly come at him again with a pocket knife.

Alec shook his head and didn’t realise the woman was now directly next to him. Stepping back he looked down to her, she was small, her hair was auburn but could easily be a bright orange when dry.

“Where do you live?” He asked as she was holding herself.

“Just a couple of blocks away”

Alec nodded.

“Head home..I’ll keep an eye on you from up top” With that he headed to the wall and scaled up it, gripping onto loose bricks and edges of window frames. The girl watched him go and grinned, heading home as quick as she could feeling a warming sense of safety. Approaching her apartment building she stopped to look up. The mystery masked man was perched on the top of the porch.

“Can I kiss the man who saved my life?” She grinned up fluttering her eyelashes. Alec felt himself nearly slip from where he was.

“No...you can’t” He said bluntly before disappearing into the night, the girl laughed and looked around before running into her home.

When Alec returned home drenched he threw off all the heavy damp cloths, dropping down in just his boxers by the already lit fire. Sebastian was a good guy. Alec would give him a day off in return for his loyalty but he knew he wouldn’t last a day without his assistance.

The past few weeks had been much like tonight. Heading out into the city stopping petty crimes and causing a general nuisance for the gangs who currently ‘ruled’ the city. Alec was waiting for the right break, the right person to interrogate. He was trying to be careful and weigh up each gang and see which parts of the underground they ran. Attacking them head on was going to be a mistake. They called themselves the Downworlders from what he could already tell, branching off into smaller gangs that were involved in arms dealing, drugs, blackmail, fraud and hired muscle. Each group were always trying to best the other, at each other’s throats.

---

Magnus woke up around 5 hours later, his mind clear he felt much better already. His body felt energized. He didn’t remember even falling asleep. Getting up and going into the bathroom he looked at his face, turning it side to side and frowning. His acne had cleared up entirely and his skin looked a lot smoother. Whatever was in those vats they were definitely good for your complexion.

As he went to turn on the shower he knocked the side of his shoulder on the glass door, stepping back for a moment and looking down at his arms before giving it a feel. Had his shoulder swollen? It wouldn’t be surprising given the beating he’d gone through last night.

Lifting his shirt off carefully in case he had any damage he choked a gasp and stumbled back. His thin, lanky frame was now broad, muscular and looked like he’d been working out his entire life.

Just as he was pushing his trousers down he had a minor freak out and something popped on his hand causing a static shock, holding his hand up with a high pitched shriek there was a sudden burst of ‘glitter’? From the centre of his palm, gasping and closing his hand again watching it as it slowly fluttered down.

“Wh-wha…” Hearing the banging on the bathroom door from his Mother snapped his out of his moment and he checked his palm again, nothing happening. The evidence that it was real was all over the counter, down the mirror and on the tiled floor. Gather it all up as quick as he could and pushing it down the sink he washed his hands as best he could, trying to see a hole where it might’ve shot from but found nothing.

Magnus needed some normality. He had a shower, ignored his reflection and the way his ass was now breathtaking, if he did say so himself. He grabbed his work and kissed his Mum goodbye, the office would help everything turn back to his ‘boring’ life before he pushed his nose a little too far into the cookie jar.

---

“There’s far too many rundown and derelict buildings on the East side of the city…” Alec was sat in his board room surrounded by the ten directors, Hodge to his right where he belonged.

“Mr Lightwood with all due respect...we don’t have the resources to worry about the East Side” One of the older members of the board spoke up.

“Maybe not...but we can generate those resources by halting the work being carried out on the casino and put the money to where it really matters”

A couple of murmurs of indecision, something that was very popular right now with stuck up businessmen.

“Alec” Hodge put his hand on his wrist looking to him before back to the board. “Gentleman please...there could be good from this...the Casino will be finished in time...If Mr Lightwood believes the East Side needs assistance then the least we can do is take a look into it”

“Thanks” Alec mumbled to his friend and took a deep breath as the murmurs stopped.

“All I’m saying is that it would provide housing for the already bursting aid centres...maybe even give opportunity for new businesses to open” Alec put his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. He didn’t do all this snobbish meeting malarky. But he knew what he wanted. He wanted to take control of the East Side from the drug addicts who littered the abandoned buildings. Get the men help and put a dent in the dealings.

“Very well...We’ll speak with finance and see what can be spared and work on a brief of what you might want to do there...We’re eager to hear your propositions” Will Herondale, one of the younger board members was one of Hodge’s apprentices. Alec admitted the man’s business sense in having allies everywhere was beyond smart.

When the morning meeting adjourned Alec sat eating lunch with Hodge who was stroking his beard and looking across the city.

“I admire your ambition Alec...your father would’ve been proud” He smiled round as Alec shrugged. “But the East Side is the main business grounds for the Downworld...to interrupt that would cause a rift in the peace we’ve established with them.

Alec Scoffed.

“I’m sorry but I don’t want peace with them...I don’t want them breathing down our necks without even being here...they need to stop or they need to leave”

“Be careful Alec...I’d hate for those words to be heard by the wrong ears” He frowned and rubbed his temple, sipping his coffee. Alec shook his head and put his feet up on his desk.

“When I was staying with the Penhallows I learnt there was no such thing as the wrong ears...everyone needs to say what they feel...speak their minds...if there can be solutions without violence and destruction then we need to pursue them...there’s no use rolling over and surrendering to moraless criminals...that’s not how I want my parent’s legacy to continue...we need to step up and do something”

Hodge took a moment to listen and then smiled.

“I couldn’t agree more...You’ve come back to us wise beyond your years...Europe did you good... I imagine that having high a moral standing isn’t all you learnt in your time out there..I imagine there’s many more skills you’ve developed” He raised his brow and sat on the chair in front of Alec’s desk, continuing to eat.

“More than you could ever imagine…” Alec smirked.

#malec fanfiction #shadowhunters fanfiction #superhero au

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