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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there.

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

#ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #series #knives out #dark fic #dark!fic #what's yours is mine

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

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The Miys, Ch. 152

I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it, I’m not going to jinx it...

Okay, maybe I am. I managed to queue up the chapters I had in the barrel! Yay!! Which also means that I have a super duper exciting chapter coming up, which I can’t wait to write and can’t wait for y’all to read. I just need it to be perfect.

That said, thank you to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog for your help with this particular chapter. I love when we are all three in one of these sessions and just descending into chaos in the chat. Also, @mamayoda (who I can’t tag but I do want you to know I see your likes in my notes!) for love-bombing my notes recently.

“Is it just me or is everyone really jumpy?” Charly asked as I set my food down across from her. It was our thrice-weekly lunch dates in one of the public mess halls, and she definitely had a point. I had already noticed three people scowl distrustfully at the food consoles, hugging closely to the prepared food side of the room instead.

I sighed. “It has to have been Derek’s stress test. It wasn’t supposed to impact systems we didn’t design, but…”

She snorted loudly. “Tell that to the week I spent taking cold showers again. At least this time, the doors didn’t play any music when I walked through them.”

“Did your doors at least open consistently? I was stuck in my quarters for a whole day until we figured out that I could walk through if I had an escort.” I laughed and shook my head before digging in to my food. “And, come to find out, we actually do manage the water systems, thanks to BioLab 2.”

Contrary to myself, Charly was entirely unperturbed at this revelation beyond sniffing her hoodie and shrugging. “My doors worked fine as far as I know, but Coffey and I tend to work the same hours, so… Maybe that was it. Oo!” Her cheer of enthusiasm caught me off guard as she started bouncing in her seat. “OOOOO! I bet he activated the routine Xiomara had running when you and Jokul weren’t friends yet!”

“There was a routine!?” I asked, exasperated. “I behaved, thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Meh. Just in case. What do you think her deal is?” She tilted her head to the side, at a table near us.

Sure enough, the woman at that table was darting glances around the room, her shoulders hunched, elbows close to her body, eyes wide. I could practically feel her shaking from where I was. “I can’t tell if she looks suspicious or afraid,” I murmured, hoping the woman couldn’t hear me. “But the fact that I’ve met mice and chihuahuas who shook less, I’m going to go with afraid.”

As I watched the woman, weighing whether or not a stranger trying to comfort her would make it better or worse, Mona’s familiar face approached her instead. She was speaking softly enough that I couldn’t make out words, but the woman clearly recognized her and only jumped slightly.

I was so focused on the sight of Mona comforting the woman that I nearly hit the ceiling when Parvati’s voice came from entirely too close to my right shoulder. “Rebecca. She lost her family twice, first her parents, some cousins, and an uncle when the hack happened, and then her partner and children in the After. It’s understandable that she’s terrified right now, after the stress test. Too many bad memories.”

My face flushed in humiliation. “Pranav and Zach sent a ship-wide alert that the stress test was happening - “

A perfectly manicured hand clapped over my mouth, one dark eyebrow arched in eloquent disbelief. “Sophia. You of all people know that mental scars do not heed logic.”

Charly’s hair flew around her face as she nodded enthusiastically. “After day three of cold showers, I flinched every time I went through a door in case that stupid song started playing again, no matter how many times I reminded myself that it was a stress test and I had decidedly not given Derek boba tea again.”

Both my hands flew up in surrender. “I stand corrected, I just feel awful to see people react like that.” Gazing around the room, I was suddenly much more aware of all the darting eyes, protective postures, seats turned so that backs were against walls.

Charly had obviously seen the same thing. “We may need to talk to Pranav about limiting the tests to one or two systems at a time.”

“I wish we could,” I admitted, stabbing a potato out of my pie slightly harder than necessary. “His department was passing the tests with flying colors when Derek was limited to one or two systems at a time. But they failed this last test miserably, it turns out. As soon as they would react to one thing, Derek would switch to another system, and they couldn’t be everywhere at once as well as they convinced themselves that they could. And they can’t just be good at small scale attacks: the revolt that happened before the End brought everything down at once, from multiple access points. It was… kind of elegant, in a terrible way. Very clean.”

Charly squinted at me and Parvati in suspicion. “Are you supposed to know that they crashed and burned in the test.”

I rocked my hand back and forth while I chewed on a mouthful of crust. It had way too much butter in it, but at least it was actually crust this time. A week ago it had been something pretty close to paper mache. “Technically we don’t officially know that. Officially, all we know is that Pranav has requisitioned enough additional staff to increase his team of programmers by seventy percent.”

“Asses handed to them, got it,” Charly nodded in understanding.

“We also officially know that Pranav currently owes Hannah quite the enormous favor,” Parvati confided.

“How big?” Charly ventured slowly.

“Big enough that his grandchildren may be indebted to hers,” came the laughing response.

Charly shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He should know better than to bet against Derek. He breaks the systems for fun, and they asked him to really go for it. What did they expect?”

“Apparently to put up a better fight at least.” I forced a smile, but guilt weighed on my heart as I studied the room again, fully seeing the microexpressions of anxiety, fear, and anger. It felt like the entire Ark was constantly swinging between hope and fear. The random drills weren’t really helping, either.

“They aren’t,” Parvati agreed, letting me know that I had been thinking out loud. “Everyone is sleep deprived, on high alert, and then all of a sudden all the computer systems went on the fritz for a week.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, pushing what was left of my pot pie away from me, appetite gone. “We need to talk to Grey and Antoine about getting counselling for everyone, seeing as how Xiomara and Pranav pretty much just triggered the entire ship. I mean, everyone knows counselling is available, but I think allocating training and resources to the therapy teams is going to take priority over Pranav’s request for the moment.”

Charly tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Do we have the space for some quiet rooms, like you set up for the Food Festival a few years back? That may be a good idea.”

Snapping into work-mode, Parvati flicked her datapad open, bangles clattering as she started making notes. “The quarters left by those who relocated closer to the Archives are still uninhabited, those can be used. We may be able to convince some people to relocate so we can spread the rooms out more evenly, but even if we can’t, just having those rooms available will help.”

“Make a note to add in the proposal for Grey: possibility of having specific vendors permitted to serve food in BioLab 2. Encourage mental health days and picnics.”

Parvati nodded in acknowledgement of my request, before adding her own spin. “As a contingency plan, find vendors who will pre-package picnics. Between the current distrust of the consoles and the fact it will remind everyone of the annual Festival, the good emotions will help.”

“I like it,” I confirmed. “What else?”

“Paintball tag day in the corridors,” Charly announced, without preamble or warning. “Make it a holiday, everyone is off work, limit it to one end of the Ark.”

I shook my head. “Guns, not the best idea.”

“Ew, no. No pew-pew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was thinking more paint-soaked splash bombs.”

Finger guns deployed, dual wielding. “I am so here for a paintball tag day in that case. The flavored paint?”

“Not the scotch bonnet please,” Parvati begged. “I just know someone will get that in the face, I don’t care how much Else likes it.”

“Got it, no more pepper spraying people,” Charly agreed seriously. “OOO! I could test the new arrows out! With something like buttered popcorn paint, obviously. Maybe kiwi on the other team.”

“Just limit the pull on the bows, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Fiiiiine…”

Parvati smiled and added to her notes. “So, we probably want someone to correlate the current date to whatever the date would be on Earth… Just in case we need to get a consultant for Holi.”

“Good point. Conor is alarmingly good at that, so I can ask him. It would be a nice cultural event if we could do that. If not, we can totally work on celebrating Holi when it comes around.”

“Final suggestion for right now, because I have to get back to work,” I sighed happily. “This is going to be the biggest ask, and the smallest at the same time…” Both nodded at me to continue. “Care packages, for everyone. And I mean everyone on the Ark.”

“Sophia,” Parvati scolded me. “That’s almost ten thousand people and sixteen animal companions.”

“Well aware,” I forged on, “We’ll talk to Sam about the bows, I can wrap them. Commission some of those really nice chocolates, or maybe some taffy from Simon. And something salty. I know there is someone on the Ark who makes aromatherapy candles, Tyche is bananas about them.”

Shaking her head, she added it to the list. “If you insist on that, I insist on a celebration for the drop out of FTL. Hannah and I can use some of the plans from the Food Festival, include Charly’s paint tag - “

“And Kink Night!”

“- and Kink Night, apparently… have several events going on across the Ark, since we already discussed declaring a holiday.”

“Get Bash’s permission to use the Undine again, and I won’t object,” I surrendered before standing. “On that note, I really do have to get back to work. Come on, Vati, we have work to do apparently.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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fanficmemes · 3 years

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Hey guys!!! Thanks to our lovely anon/blog historian, Soupy, we now have a recorded history!! Blog lore, my beloved. I'll try and start adding in our new things too, but to any newbies out there, come take a look :):):):)

About the lore for this blog, i cannot remember everything, but i can do something about the cursed asks lore and history, since i just scrolled all the posts in the tags!

31 Jan 2021: an anonymous send an ask asking what people actually mean when they tell a ship if "pedophilic". This start a big number of asks about real survivor and how fucked up is fandom water down the word, purity culture, and consequently story time about harassing people in fandom for purity culture.

1 Feb 2021: someone speak about how much fucked up fics helped them. This probably opened the possibility of cursed asks. The same day, someone other send an ask about a terrible person known for harassing people about the sexuality of a character. The person is called "train fucker".

2 Feb 2021: anonymous point the attention on the train fucking thing. The cursed ask tag is created.

In the following hours, always in the cursed ask tag, people discover the fandom was Death Note and the guy was apparently in real attracted to trains and planes. Hell break down, memes are created.

History is made.

One of the characters will later become protagonists of the tag already existed. PKD already was knew since the 22 Jan 2021, when they sent an ask about the color asks and you had the intuition the tags he was probably someone with a piss kink and the tag "chronicles of piss" was created.

Cursed ask history part 2:

At this moment on time,the tags is still not clearly used. One of the First post tagged as such, the 9th Feb, is an anon answering to the ear fucking conversation about micropenis, while all the other posts are not tagged. The day after PKD enter the cursed asks tag, while the others ask still stay out of it. People start sending the stories they read.

12 Feb Hagrid/Hedwig fics are discovered. Owl fucking anon appear. Someone suggest a friendship between them and mlp guy.

Also mlp pony guy is a lore being who did not appear before in the #cursed asks, but already had their history in the simpler ask tag and in the previous cancel scale period, that we could call the ancestor of #cursed ask.

The First post tagged as cancel scale is from the 2nd Jan 2021. It was an anon answering your post of the same day "alright guys scale 1-10 how screwed r u if it ao3 history and bookmarks get released".

This is the gold era of this blog lore. The philanthropist, wound fucking discourse, rpf bdsm and mlp guy (with the first ask behind paywall) appeared during the first month and a half of the year, mixing at the end with the cursed ask tag.

Cursed ask history part 2:

12 Feb Hagrid/Hedwig fics are discovered. Owl fucking anon appear. Someone suggest a friendship between them and mlp guy.

Cursed ask history part 3:

The philanthropist appeared the same day #the cancel scale started. With their iconic "i am a shameless philanthropist and so my bookmarks are public. I eat dead doves for breakfast. Come on down to the buffet y'all! You want some wound fucking? 8-yr-old omega abortion? I got you fam, watch me scramble these eggs" they left a forever sign in this blog. Still to this days asks are written to know if they are good. They obtained a 12/10 in the cancel scale.

Wound fucking discourse started, also the same day, by CB answering "is that where the wound fucking comes in??" At a ask about vivisection and medical experimentation. Discourse about what classify as a wound and how it works continued trought the day.

Rpf bdsm is thought to have beat the philanthropist with their mix of rape, underage, incest in a foursome, huge age, rpf tentacles and, mostly, someone getting turned into a pickle and his partner fucking himself with it.

This also started a string of asks about people being transformed in object used for sex.

Rpf bdsm would appear again later that day to specify the pickle fic was a rpf.

Cursed ask history part 4 (i think? Already lost the count)

Mlp guy. The one and only. Always in the terrible 2 Jan 2021, they first appeared in the tags of an answer to a marvel ask. #Hey HEY mlp guy #u know who u r #i'm afraid to look at this ask #like yeah we saw some shit tonight but this blows that outta the fuckin WATER #y'all would dead ass have to pay me to post it

Someone noticed the tags and asked about it, and a strong sexual tension between everyone and the unpublished mlp ask started. Someone ended up paying, cause the ask was later published as last post of the day and terrorized every follower of the blog. It was published as screenshot of the ask, and is not even put in the #cancel scale.

MLP guy stayed so in the apex of the cursed asks for some months, till the Pokémon ask by soupy was published the 9th may 2021, taking home a 15/10. MLP guy made a Tumblr profile, @therealmlpguy, in retiliation, and reblogged answering with a new terribly cursed fic. CB have still not voted it, so who have the worst cursed ask is still in question.

The day of #cancel scale the blog fanficmemes lost many followers, but the story was, as we know, not finished.

Cursed ask history part 5

I like to stay an half cryptid of this blog, so i will not tell my blog of origin, but i can tell you I am Soupy. Also i need to know if i am actually considered a cryptic of the blog and if i need to make a lore post about myself XD.

This is starting to get hard cause i cannot reread what i already sent, but the end of the tunnel is near.

We already told about owl fucking anon in the cursed ask tag, but their story is a bit more longer. The cursed ask was actually their big return, and they are probably one of the most proficious lore making, having also a part in the creation of the PKD legend. They should really have their own tag.

How? Well.

The 17 Jan 2021, when the big part of the cancel scale was done and the elders of the lore created, they sent an anon ask about what the cancel scale made them remember. It was a fic, red when they were ten or eleven, about someone fucking an owl while the owl was on their period. Consensual, and apparently the authors were two teen girl who write only character x owl. Their mom proofread. CB answered with their profile picture, edited so that it red "i can't believe it's gotten even worse!" Instead of "i can't believe it's not canon".

This post created, if we want to say, PKD, cause their first ask, that assigned them piss kink, was yes about the color asks (that, in case someone does not remember, was CB asking what colors people assigned to them), but had as explanation "if you keep posting stuff like the owl period whatever". So the owl fucking anon indirectly created, the 22 Jan 2021, PKD.

Owl fucking anon continued their ascension to lore of the blog.

The 12th Feb 2021 sent an ask were they were surprised someone had found Hagrid x Hedwing fics, and than sent anther 9 parts ask about the story of how they red lot of cursed shits thanks to an old tumblr blog that had the links, and how from there they found an author who only published Hagrid x Hedwing, and how that introduced them to FF smut.

(it is also discovered they are only 15, baby, please, i am noone to talk with the shits i red at the time but i hope you are ok).

They are now consacrated in the memory of the blog.

Cursed ask history part 6

Before continuing with the history of the cursed asks, is now time to finally give a small talk about PKD. We know how they originated, but how they become so famous?

Probably is the fact they appeared so many time during the last months. Being it for cancel scale, cursed asks or just normal asks, they continue to give us company with their exploration of piss kink fic. Is true they soundly negate having the kink the first months, but after lot of memes and people speaking about it, the 25 Apr 2021 they finally admitted of having the kink,and discovered it reading an a/b/o Captain America fic.

I would suggest to read all the posts, but they stopped being tagged halfway through, so is half in the specific #chronicles of piss and half in the #cursed ask

Cursed ask history part 7

The big lore is finished, and now only the later history stay.

#cancel scale posts and #cursed asks post lived side by side for some days. The owl fucking one of the 12 Feb was actually the last cursed fic published in the cancel scale post, leaving the tag only for some history reference later.

#cursed asks saw the appearence of every type of cursed possible to thought, with scat and nipple fucking between the different tags. At the start there was no specific day chosen, but later, for CB schedule reasons, Saturday was assigned as cursed ask day, and some week later it was moved to Sunday.

And here we are, today, to see what other cursed things we will bring in this world

Cursed fic History part 8

The cursed fic History have been covered, but i still think is important to talk about some of the before time tags that created the good ecosystem for the creation of #cursed ask.

The most famous is #the lube discussion.

It started the 23 Aug 2020, when CB wrote a post about FF using the word "supple" in smut without the thing being actually supple. In the tag, they added #also #that does Not work as lube.

Some anon asked what was being used as lube, that was answered with "one was peanut butter. I will not discuss the other". This started the bug lube discussion, were everyone talked about what they continingly see used as lube when it cannot be used as lube.

Between the classics soap and blood, we see some more daring one as mud, yogurt, aloe vera, years, milk, hot sauce and the more intersting, cannoli (have no idea if they are talking about the cream you put in cannoli or some american thing i don't know).

Nothing reached cursed material, but it put the first seed for the blog.

#blog lore #my dearest soup #my response to your first letter will be posted swiftly #I got distracted bc I forgot that we don’t know each other irl #and I was gonna press some flowers for u #(they’re still being pressed but I’ll send a pic I forgot that I can’t send real flowers over text #but again thank you so much for doing this #also I really wish I would’ve tagged shit better #maybe I wanted to go back and reread chronicles of piss #but nooooooo I just had to forget about it halfway through #anyways here we go #cursed asks #the lube discussions #chronicles of piss

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Extraordinary Dragon (Part 1/6)

After about a century of me being gone and not writing a new story, I am back with a mini-series! 💙

I didn't have a good idea for a new OC so I decided to write a cute and fluffy story about Charlie training a dragon with a sad and mysterious past.

I would like to thank @am-i-space @madelineorionswan & @the-al-chemist for giving me ideas for the names of the dragons mentioned in the story. You are the best 💙 Since some of the dragons are mentioned in the later chapters I will make sure to include which dragons you named in the Masterlist for the story 💙

If you'd like to be tagged in every part the dragon with your name is mentioned please tell me and I will gladly do so 🤗

Warnings: Charlie being excited and obsessed with dragons.

Word count: 2,869

A dragon's roar awakened me. It might sound terrifying to some, but it is a pure melody for my ears. I have been working in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary for almost 10 years now. Come to think of it tomorrow's the anniversary.

My co-workers constantly tease me, telling me that I'm a workaholic. I always disagree with them. I just love dragons and working with them. Am I a bit obsessed with the creatures? Maybe. But who wouldn't be so excited about having their dream job?

There is something so soothing working with a beast that can swallow you whole, yet if you have the right energy and you treat them right they can be more obedient than a Crup.

When I first got the job I worked with a team of researchers. Since I have never seen a dragon in real life before starting working, my boss Matthew wanted me to learn about their behavior and study them to be better prepared to do other things.

They all thought I will be bored out of my mind – because I applied for the care of dragons position and not researching – but I loved every second of it. All I had to do was wake up every morning and go to the assigned habitat and observe the dragon there and take notes. It's like reading a book about the creatures – something I did almost every day of my 7 years at Hogwarts – but you get to be around them every single day.

My mother thinks I am insane for wanting to be around such dangerous creatures and I had to promise her before I left for Romania that I will write home every day otherwise she is coming to get me at once. I guess she needs to know daily that I wasn't eaten by a dragon. The thing is that being hurt by a dragon is less likely than falling off a broom, so I don't know what she is so worried about.

The only one of my family members that knows about all my injuries and all my scars is my big brother Bill. He understands that I don't mind getting hurt and he doesn't get a heart attack every time I end up in the infirmary. It's nice to talk to someone about these things outside my workspace. Even though being a Curse Breaker isn't the safest job in the world, Bill's number of scars can't even compare to mine.

We do have protective gear and gloves but sometimes the dragon's fire and teeth are just too strong. We are lucky that we have wonderful healers that take care of us and we have remedies that heal burns within minutes so it's mostly just an annoyance.

The year after my training I worked only with Common Welsh Greens. The year after that I tamed two Antipodean Opaleyes and it was the best feeling to see them get excited and welcome me with a friendly roar every morning. Even though they were both adults it felt like dealing with two kids and it was so much fun. The latter are such sweethearts and I even taught one how to roll over. They are like dogs but bigger, way bigger.

After that, I tried to convince my boss to let me work with a more dangerous breed. It's not that I didn't like what I did but I like a challenge. I needed 2 months to convince him to let me work with 2 Chinese Fireballs and by the smirk on his face I knew I was in for a treat. They were brought to our reserve so they could breed but no matter how much others tried nobody succeeded at mating them.

When Matthew finally gave in – not seeing any harm in letting me try before they send them back – I remember I danced around my hut for a solid half an hour being so excited to work with them the next day.

I was surprised that nobody thought of the strategy I choose. It was true that they brought the dragons to us together but they didn't know each other and since nobody thought of trying to acquaint them first, I gave it a go.

After 3 days they were best mates and I gave them 4 more days to fully feel comfortable with each other before taking them to the mating habitat. I am more than proud to say that since then they have been parents 2 times. I did some great things since I started working in the Sanctuary but you never forget your first big achievement.

Due to Matthew being absolutely in awe of me succeeding after a week he allowed me to work with a bunch of Swedish Short-Snouts even though usually only a dragonologist with 5+ years of experience can work with them alone.

I was amused when I saw the faces of some of my older co-workers when they found out – thinking they were going to get the job. I love working with them even though they are the ones responsible for most of my scars. Just after the first day, one burned my entire forearm and everyone thought I was going to back off because of it but it only made me want to work with them more.

Now, after almost 10 years I have worked with every single breed of dragon except my favorite – the Hebridean Black. They are one of the most dangerous and stubborn kind and only a dragonologist with a lot of experience gets to work with them.

I got the glimpse of one when I was working with the research team but no matter how sneaky I tried to be, Matthew wouldn't let me get anywhere close to them. I even got a chance to work with a team that took care of a sick Norwegian Ridgeback even though they are considered to be the most dangerous.

A year ago I got a chance to be part of an exchange program at the Swedish Dragon Reserve and I worked with a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Ukrainian Ironbelly. My boss wasn't happy about the latter one as he reckoned I was too inexperienced to be around and try to tame the largest breed of dragons but as you can probably tell from what I told you so far, I was over the roof about it!

The Ironbelly might be the largest but they are among the least vicious ones – none of my co-workers would agree with me as most of them are terrified of them but I think they are adorable thinking since they are the biggest they are also the scariest. It's the same as with dogs – sometimes the smaller ones are more dangerous.

I got out of bed with a grin on my face. Even though I don't like to admit it I like reminiscing on my biggest achievements.

I made myself some breakfast – eggs and bacon as usual – while blasting music on my wireless. Nothing like singing while cooking and reading the letters my family sent me.

Mum and dad were going to visit George and Ron for the weekend. Bill and Fleur decided to repaint their living room. Ginny invited me to one of her games next week and Percy got another promotion.

I walked to the wall where I had a calendar hanging to mark the date of Ginny's game. It was the perfect event to meet with most of my family members and I love supporting her. I am proud of all my siblings' achievements but Ginny being the only girl among 6 boys made us all have a soft spot for her - even Percy, even though he would probably deny it if someone asked him about it.

Since I was working with three different dragons at the moment – Peruvian Vipertooth named Hel and two Romanian Longhorns Lasair and Rocker – I double-checked my schedule to see which one I am supposed to visit today. As I thought, it was Lasair. I know my schedule by heart but always check it twice– I don't want any dragon to be jealous thinking one is getting more attention from me.

My routine with the dragons was simple. First, they get their breakfast which is usually a piece of their favorite meat, except if it's our Common Welsh Green Crystal – she is the only dragon I have ever met that is a vegetarian and she mostly doesn't want to eat anything else than apples. It took us the longest time to figure out why she doesn't want to eat – vomiting out all the meat we gave her – until we moved her to an habitant with a pumpkin patch and them mysteriously disappearing overnight.

After the feeding, I like to play with them. That usually includes large balls or levitating rocks after which they can jump and run. Then it's my favorite part of the day – the flying lessons. We transport them to the part of the reserve that is built like a large stadium in the middle of the forest surrounded by mountains and it has 10 obstacles that the dragons have to learn to overcome so they are cleared for free-flying sessions.

After flying it's time for a brief pause to get the dragon back to its habitat and calm it down before giving it dinner and tucking it in.

Flying is the most fun thing we can do at our job. When Matthew told me that I am finally allowed to fly with them, I had to excuse myself and go to the bathroom because I felt like crying my eyes out. I wanted to fly on a dragon ever since I was a kid and even though I heard rumors about training them in that way, I always thought it was too good to be true.

The first time I flew on a dragon was with a dragonologist named Jim. He showed me how to properly prepare the dragon to be in the mood to have a person on its back and how to lift off and then safely land. Vulcan the Opaleye was just the loveliest when I trained with him to trust me to the point that he would allow me to fly. Even though my dream is to one day fly on a Hebridean Black, I wouldn't change my first flight for anything in the world.

Vulcan was more than obedient and so careful to make me feel comfortable and constantly made sure I was still on his back. He flew in a straight line and at an even pace making me feel so safe that I let go of his shiny scales and lifted my hands in the air. I wanted to shout from all the adrenaline and excitement that ran through me but I didn't want to startle the dragon.

It's safe to say that I didn't sleep at all that night. The second I laid in my bed I felt as if I was still in the air with Vulcan and I couldn't help but wish to do that every day.

"Good morning, Lasair. What do you want to eat this morning? Boar, deer, moose perhaps?"Lasair lifted her head sleepily at me. I teased her with the options, knowing full well that moose was her favorite. If she could speak she would ask me if I can't remember her favorite meal.

"Don't worry, you'll get what you want." I winked at her and put on my gloves before taking out my wand and levitating the big chunk of meat to her.

Lasair was one of the rare dragons that ate her food slowly, so I loved to sit down next to her and watched her chew. If Matthew saw me, he would probably murder me for sitting so close to a dragon but he doesn't know that Lasair and I have an agreement of her keeping me alive and I give her some extra meat for dinner in return.

"So, Lassy, I have some bad news." I cleared my throat as the dragon stopped chewing and tilted her head toward me. "We have to sharpen your claws today."

Lasair groaned and went back to her breakfast.

"I know, I know. Not your favorite thing to do. Trust me if it was up to me, we would rather do something more fun like play with your favorite tire or play fetch with your ball. But the boss said it was time."

Lasair didn't react to my words but laid on the ground once she finished her meal and wrapped her tail around me.

"You know that cuddling and being cute won't work on me." I chuckled. "Not this time, at least."

The dragon's nostrils started to smoke and I knew she was trying to negotiate.

"Between you and me," I whispered, "I'll throw in another piece of meat if you'll be a good girl like last time. How about some boar for dessert, huh?"

Lasair let out a gentle roar, giving me a sign that she agrees with my terms.

"That's my girl. I knew we'll find a common ground." I grinned at her and got up so we could start our day.

"Okay, Lassy. I will need you to step on this mat and do the burying motion. As if you were burying the bones of a deer." I explained when Lasair looked at the mat in confusion.

I mimicked the gesture and she copied it and walked to the mat with grace as if she was a princess.

"There you go! I am so proud of you, Lasair. You really want that extra piece of meat, huh?" I laughed to myself.

"So that is how you get all dragons to behave as if they're Crups?" I turned toward the voice and saw Matthew's amused face, observing my work with the Romanian Longhorn.

"You were never meant to find out," I said in a dramatic voice.

"Oh, it's fine." Matthew swung his hand. "You'll need all the skills."

"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brows at him as I stepped to Lasair to show her to step a bit forward so she could sharpen the claws on her back paws as well.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Matthew asked, observing my every move.

"No." I lied. I knew that tomorrow will be 10 years since I work in the reserve but I didn't want to boast about it.

"Come on, Charles. I know that you out of everyone here you’re the one who counts how long you are working here for." He smirked at me.

I couldn't believe it. He remembered that it's my 10th anniversary? I couldn't help but grin.

"What about it?" I tried acting casually.

"Well, the team was thinking about what to get you as a present..."

"Matt, you don't have to get me anything. You know I am just happy being surrounded by dragons." I smiled appreciatively.

"Well, how about you get surrounded by a new dragon?" He winked at me.

"What are you on about?" I narrowed my eyes at him. I was getting impatient, the excitement in me growing.

"We are getting a one-year-old Hebridean Black in a week from the MacFusty’s." Matthew started to explain. "And since you are so good at taming and being best mates with the three you’re taming now, I was thinking of assigning it to you."

"Did...did you just say a Hebridean Black?" I said in a voice that was barely a whisper. I couldn't believe what just came out of his mouth. He was going to let me work with my favorite breed?

"You heard correctly, Charles." Matthew's smirk was growing larger.

"But...but I don't have enough experience, you said so yourself. You...you should give the job to someone worthy, to someone who will know how to handle the breed." I knew that I should've just shut up and thank him for the opportunity. Working with a Hebridean Black has been my goal ever since I can remember, but I have to keep my head clear and think of what's best for the dragon.

"Thinking like this is exactly why I am giving the job to you even though I told you the last time you begged me that you need at least 7 more years before you can work with them." Something in his eyes shifted. He had the exact expression on his face as he did when he assigned me to breed those two Fireballs.

"You are up to something. What's wrong with the dragon?" I pursed my lips at him.

"Oh, the dragon is just fine. Lovely, actually. I bet you two will have a lot of fun." The sarcastic tone in his voice told me that he was hiding something from me but I didn't dare to ask him about it.

He deemed me ready to work with a Hebridean Black. To work with my favorite breed. I am not about to jeopardize that if he thinks I am the one for the job. In a week my biggest dream will come true and there was nothing in the world that could ruin that.

#charlie weasley #charlie weasley harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #the weasleys #dragon boy #charles weasley #hebridean black #dragons #a dragon story #charie weasley hphm #dragonologist

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

The Gentry’s Gifts: Pero

Pero Tovar might meet the woman of his dreams, if he can make himself trust a mysterious visitor. My Writer Wednesday thingy. I am tagging @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: No smut, a little kissing, eating but it’s Tovar so the pace of that is quick, the S/O is female blank canvas. I think there is cursing. Not beta’d — I should be working on something else but this bit me hard, and there may be a second part with Max Phillips. I have this idea of connecting each story and telling several tales but you know how speedy I write stuff. So if there are any mistakes, I am sorry. Basically wrote this and did not read it over even.

Pero’s dreams were sometimes horrible things.

Sometimes he dreamt of monsters surging over a wall. Of death and blood, of his sword, or his axe, slicing through men and beast.

Sometimes he dreamed of the wide sky of the desert, the starts shining bright, almost as numerous as his regrets.

And sometimes. Sometimes. He dreamed of you. It filled him with such longing he would wake to the alarm clock’s cry to realize his face was wet with tears.

But, he would put on his suit (wool or polyester, not leather and metal) fill his satchel with the armor of his craft (law briefs, good pens, post it notes) and step out into the world.

He would look for you. He would look for you on buses. In bars. Sometimes he would think, “If I were her, where would I go?” And he would find himself in libraries. Museums. Once he took High Afternoon Tea at a Victorian style house, a dark, grumpy shadow alone at his pwn table, surrounded by ladies wearing fancy borrowed hats and gossip.

The one place he never wanted to see you was the other side of his desk, and so far he had lucked out. He was a public defender, and the people who came to his door were almost always desperate.

Almost always. The woman across from him was not. Steel grey hair in a chignon, cool dark eyes that seemed to be able to read everything about him, a story in every wrinkle, in the scar over his eye, in the silver in his hair.

“We’ve been here before, you and I.”

She said it so seriously, he took it as such…looking at his pile of files. “Have we? Forgive me, I have a lot of cases…what is your name, again? My secretary wrote it down, but it smudged.”

She placed a hand over his, stilling his search. “I know how you got the scar over your eye. The first time. And the second.”

He shivered, pulled his hand away. “What are…”

“You dream of the Great Wall of China. You dream of monsters with scales and monsters who are men. Sometimes the monster is you.”

His back straightened as his heart started to race. “Lady…”

She folded her hands on her lap. “I know your dreams because they are not dreams. You helped me, once. You could have demanded payment, but you did not. You told me such stories. Stories about the endless desert. About your friend William. And about her.”

He looked in her eyes. “You are not yourself. Let me call a friend — we have social services in this building, they can find you someone to talk to, to help you.”

She stood with an amused smile. “You didn’t believe me last time, either. But my people…we always pay our debts. I will not rest until I have paid mine.” She leaned forward and whispered your name in his year, like a lullaby, like a promise, and his hand, hovering over the phone on his desk, froze.

She threw a card down on his inked over desk calendar. “If you want me to help you find her, come here tonight. Dress nice. Surely you have something better than that suit.”

He picked up the card. Writing appeared, an address, in shimmering emerald.

It wouldn’t rip in half. If he folded it, it popped back, pristine.

It wouldn’t fall into the trash — it stuck to his fingers like tape.

But it would slip into his breast pocket, where it burned throughout the day.

Pero’s after work plans were boring as usual. A new Thai place opened up on the way home, all beautiful paint and murals. He thought, maybe, maybe you would like it. He stood in the doorway, he looked at the people within.

You know where she might be, a voice reminded himself, the card burned.

He backed out. “Fuck it.” He muttered. “Subway is good enough.”

He ate quickly, hunched over his food in his green and yellow booth. He was angry. He hated being manipulated, he hated the idea that his life, his dreams were all a game to some white haired woman who thought being mysterious was cute. Well. He’d show her.

He threw out the wrapper and stomped out the door,

He slumped in his car and looked at the GPS. The card burned in time with his heartbeat. He took it out. “If I can’t find the address in the GPS, I’m going home, having a beer, and calling tomorrow off.”

The GPS found the address before he even typed most of it in, and the card flashed in his hand, as if saying, “I told you so.”

“Fine.” He said, pulling in his seat belt. “But I’m not getting dressed.”

He did check his teeth in the mirror, take off the tie and unbutton a few buttons, fix his hair, chew a couple of Altoids…

And drove.

It was dark, by the time he got there. One window like a gold beacon. “Not exactly the place I’d go to make all my dreams come true.” He muttered.

Well, not the GOOD dreams, anyway.

He climbed up on the porch. A man with short hair in an immaculate business suit that cost more than Pero’s whole wardrobe was seated at a card table. The Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Spades face up before him. He stared at them like a man trying to decide which chalice was poison.

Pero stood over him a moment. The other man glanced up. “She’s inside.”

“What are you doing?”

The other man placed his hands on either side of the Queen cards. “Trying to choose.”

“Between?”

He smiled a little, his lower lip catching on a fang. “Life and death. Go on in. She;s waiting for you.”

Pero grunted and opened the door.

“Be kind to her,”. The other man’s voice added softly. “She’s a good woman.”

He walked down the hall, looking into room as he passed them. The place was like some screwy version of the TARDIS and was much, much bigger on the inside. He passed three libraries. A gallery. A room with a pool table and another room with a pool.

And there, in the last room was a cozy parlor where two women sat talking. One of them was the stern woman with iron colored hair.

And one of them was you.

“Pero!” You almost knock over the table in your excitement. He held out his arms, shaking, and you plowed right in. “I thought you were a dream! I thought you were nothing but a dream!”

He gathered her close, trying to focus past the sudden blurriness in his eyes. “I never stopped looking. I didn’t know if you were real but I couldn’t make myself stop looking.”

The woman at the table smiled. “One debt down.”

He ignored her, looking down into your eyes. Your hands came up to gently trace his cheeks, to wipe away the tears. You beamed at him. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world,”

“Kiss me,” You whisper. “I have waited far too long…”

And he did.

The clock started to toll. “Midnight. Good. Take her hand, Pero, and take her out of here…and don’t look back. Take the stupid vampire with you, if he’s not already left.” The grey haired woman started pushing them out. The hall was shorter.

“Th…”. Pero starts to say, wanting to thank her for her help, for bringing you to him. The older woman pushes him hard. “No. No thanks. No more debts!”

“I…I understand your kindness.”

“That was good!” You say. “I like that better than what I said to her, earlier…”. You both step out onto the porch. “Where’s Max? Max is my boss. I don’t know why she called him a vampire…he’s very nice.”

It’s empty. Good. “I don’t know, but he had his own troubles to think about.” Pero pushes you into the car. “Close your eyes, sweetheart.” He says. “I do not want you to be taken away from me…I do not know how this miracle happened, but I will follow the rules.”

He turned the car around with his eyes closed, hoping that his memory of the wide drive being surrounded by grass was true. Good. The car did not hit anything, and soon they were heading down the driveway.

“Are you hungry?” He says a moment later. Your hand is curled in his, and he feels lighter than he’s ever felt. “I know a great place that’s open late…”

“Take me home.” You say, instead. “I want to sit up late and find out everything about you.”

“I want to do everything at your pace,” he says, as she types her address into the gps. “But I don’t need to wait. I know perhaps once you get to know me you’ll think the dream far better than reality, but…”

She touched his face. “But it’s a dream we’ve both had for a long time. We will have to be sensible.”

“Of course.”

“We don’t want family and friends to be like, who the hell is that? Are you out of your mind?”

He laughed. Snagged your hand again so he could kiss it.

“But I won’t ever let you go. I did it once. But I will never, ever do it again.”

#writer wednesday #Pero Tovar #pero tovar x you

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blueprint-han · 4 years

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pickup lines ↠ hhj ♡

↳ inspired from the song i love you by treasure. (no relation to the song idk why i was inspired)

genre: fluff type: drabble word count: 1.9 K ⇥ warnings: none except one (1) teeny tiny kiss (just a peck nothing too suggestive), lot’s of fluff and pickup lines and that’s a warning. 🥺 IF THIS DOESN’T SHOW UP IN THE TAGS THIS TIME I WILL FUCKING FUME. network tag: @stayverse

↯ note: uhfuyewhf please forgive this random outburst that overcame me, fluffy boyfriend hyunjin is just !!!!. Also my first fic woo hoo !! no particular premise of this blurb idk what this is for but i’m still gonna write it. ⇥ dawn.☀️

A long, deep sigh.

A cheek pressed against his palm, resting his head against his elbow as he stared off into space. The library was relatively quiet around him, no other sound other than the timely flipping of the page by the two other people sitting in the almost empty, spacious room.

And of course, the sound of you humming the tune that poured through the earphones you were sporting. Hyunjin could almost swear that he would fall asleep from the tune, if it weren’t for the hard wood underneath him.

Hyunjin pouted when he noticed you completely immersed in your sociology 101 textbook. Studying to be a data analyst was hard, and while it was both yours and Hyunjin’s dream job, (instead of focusing on the plethora of books lying on the table) Hyunjin found staring at the love of his life much more interesting than analyzing any sort of data.

Sunlight poured in through the open window. It was still fairly early in the morning, and while Hyunjin hated waking up early, he was more than ready to do so the moment you called him the previous night, begging him to tag along on the pretext that “it would be boring to go alone.”

And the moment you entered the library, you picked out your books and quickly drowned yourself in them, and in less than five minutes, Hyunjin found himself the one who was “bored.”

You felt a poke at the side of your arm, startling you out of your concentration.

“Hey.”

Pulling your earphones off, you smiled at Hyunjin. “Yeah?”

“You said you’d be the one bored but now I’m the one bored.” Hyunjin humphed, folding his arms across his chest. “Remind me why I accompanied you?”

You laughed, gently pinching his cheek. “Because you’re a good boyfriend.”

Being the dramatic llama that he was, Hyunjin rolled his eyes, though the subtle smile on his lips told you otherwise. “Fine finish it soon now.” He pointed before poking your arm again. “Or I’m gonna leave you and get subway for myself.”

You gasped in fake betrayal, clutching your heart as your eyes widened. It was a known fact that Hyunjin was too smitten for you, far too caring and considerate to leave you alone in the library without breakfast. And you loved to tease him about it.

Anyways, the act faltered in two seconds the moment you giggled at him.

“You’re adorable, have I ever told you that?” You mimicked his position as you faced him, admiring how he looked at the moment. Heavily lidded eyes, messy black hair, and the sunlight from behind him almost made him look like he was glowing.

At your words, Hyunjin felt the tiniest blush creep up his cheeks as he shyly admitted. “You tell me every day!”

“Well I’m going to keep telling you that, so…” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your books as hyunjin internally groaned. The library didn’t allow use of phones either, so he couldn’t just start playing around with it to kill time.

Brushing his hair off his forehead, his eyes sparkled when a thought popped into his head, a smug look on his face. Quickly grabbing his cellphone from the back of his pocket., his fingers moved against the screen — not quick enough for the librarian to notice — but at this point, it hardly mattered. The librarian was almost asleep on his table — he must’ve not adjusted to the early hours of his job very well.

When your phone dinged — signifying the arrival of a message — Hyunjin watched intently as you picked up your phone and tapped the screen a couple of times. When you grinned widely, Hyunjin knew his message had the desired affect. In all honesty, that was Hyunjin — always looking for subtle ways to tell you he loved you, and ways to keep you smiling and happy.

You reached over to push your reading classes up your nose before turning to look at Hyunjin’s direction, raising your eyebrow playfully.

Hyunjin: Guess what I’m wearing?

He had a similar grin on his lips as he silently coaxed you to reply, and so you did just that.

You: What? Your uniform? 🤭

Knowing Hyunjin, you knew that the answer would not be so simple, but nevertheless you curiously waited for the answer.

When the reply came in, the smile on your face turned into a wide, ear-to-ear smile, cheeks almost hurting with how widely you were grinning. You tried desperately trying not to alert anyone of what you were doing, but it was getting harder with how adorable Hyunjin was being.

Hyunjin: No, the smile you gave me. You: usdyuegwydedh 🥺🥺🥺 You: you cheesehead! 😘😤 Hyunjin: But I’m your cheesehead - ;D

Hyunjin, still staring at you was in a similar state. He admitted that watching you laugh and smile was something he could never grow tired of. He treasured that moment, and it always seemed like you lightened up the whole room with just your smile.

“Hey!” you looked at him, books totally forgotten as you stared into his eyes.

“They say the eyes are the mirror to the soul.” Hyunjin said, straightening up his posture as you eyed him confusedly. “You must have one beautiful soul.”

Your jaw dropped open at the sudden explosion of pickup lines coming from your boyfriend, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you felt yourself grow coy at his compliment.

“Oh gosh, what’s gotten into you.” You whispered, slapping his arm slightly. Hyunjin smiled devilishly when he noticed your beaming face, feeling oddly relaxed — but then again, he was always relaxed when he looked at you.

“ On a scale from 1 to 10 you’re a 9 and I’m the 1 you need. “

You gasped, squealing as you slapped his arm yet again.

“Oh lord, your cheeseball stop being so cute my heart can’t handle this.” You pouted, and Hyunjin bit back the overwhelming desire to squish your cheeks.

He always did everything in his power to make you happy, and it never changed, even after a year of dating. The love between you was pure in every way, and you couldn’t help but feel lucky to have such a caring and lovely angel for a boyfriend.

“Come on, I need to focus now, just half an hour more?” You managed to convince him (only after giving him your traditional puppy eyes which you knew he would never be able to resist), before turning your attention back tot he book.

Twenty minutes passed. Hyunjin had found himself a book to read in the mean time, but he wasn’t the type to be patient. It wasn’t ling before he reached for his phone yet again.

When your phone dinged again, you quickly snapped your attention from where it was fixed on Hyunjin, hiding it under the table as you stealthily read the message.

Hyunjin: Can we go eat now?

You laughed to yourself, brushing hair off your forehead before replying.

You: There’s still 10 minutes left 🤭 Hyunjin: Please I’m hungry 🥺 Hyunjin: pls pls pls pls pls pls pls 🥺

You quickly looked at the watch before sighing, smiling at Hyunjin before shutting your book and stretching your arms out. You’d been there for about two hours, since your college library opened fairly early. As expected, Hyunjin let out a silent squeal of victory, quickly helping you pack up before getting out of his seat, all to eager to get out of the cramped space.

“Remind me to never tag along with you again.” He chided playfully, and like you said before, you knew Hyunjin was too soft to be able to ignore your pleas — and even if he did, you had your secret weapon: puppy eyes. You only giggled and nodded. “yeah, whatever.” Allowing him to intertwine your fingers together as he pulled you out of the building.

Once you were out of the building and walking towards the nearest subway, you decided to go the park (which was incidentally opposite to the subway shop). As you walked in the almost empty park, you munched on your sandwich slowly, whilst Hyunjin had already devoured it all. You figured he didn’t drink his coffee before coming to the library, and you didn’t bother to ask either.

Hyunjin had still not et go of your hand, and every once in a while — out of pure habit — he would squeeze it gently, just as a form of reassurance. It never failed to warm your heart.

The both of you found a clean bench under the cool shade of a tree, enjoying the breeze as you finished your sandwich; while Hyunjin simply looked around the rows of trees and plants that were planted along the edge of the ground.

When Hyunjin caught your gaze on him once again, another thought popped into his head as he smiled yet again. Personally, he had no idea how he was acting so cheesy today, but seeing your reaction did not encourage him to stop.

“Do you have a map?” You boyfriend asked all of a sudden, and you frowned confusedly. Of course, you’d let your guard down from the previous explosion of cheesiness, which only fueled it more.

“Why do you ask?” You murmured.

“Because I keep getting lost i your eyes.”

“Aghhhh,” you groaned, covering your face with your palms as you looked at Hyunjin. “Where do you even get these from?” You pouted at him.

“I don’t know, maybe you bring it out of me?” Hyunjin shrugged.

“Hmph,” You pinched his soft cheek lightly, smiling as you did so.

Next, he grinned, tilting his head to the side as he gazed into your orbs. You sensed another attack coming ahead, but did nothing to stop it, because deep down, you were enjoying this way too much.

“You know at this angle, as the light hits your eyes.” A dizzy smile on his face as he gently fixed his hair, tucking some of the strands behind his ear. “I can see myself and I look great.”

That caused you to close your eyes, erupting into a fit of giggles as your eyes morphed into the softest of crescents.

Hyunjin opened his mouth yet again, but this time, you were quick to stop him.

“Ah, no young man. No more, or I’m gonna combust.” You tucked your own hair behind your ear.

“Nooooo,” He whined, pouting as he gave you the softest look that he could muster. “One more, please? Just one. Please please please please please-”

“okay fine! One more, and then no more, deal?” You looked at him smugly, and he nodded.

“Okay so, kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

Hyunjin had chosen that line for a joke, expecting to get yet another slap on his arm, or a shy turn of your head. What he didn’t expect was for you to blush profusely before you leaned in, pressing a soft peck to his lips.

When you pulled away, Hyunjin’s eyes were widened as you stared at each other silently for two seconds, before you snapped your fingers in front of him, pulling him out of his daze.

“You were wrong.” You stated as nonchalantly as possible, shrugging at him as you got up, grabbing your bag as you began walking towards the exit.

“H-hey, wait for me!” Hyunjin cried, not being able to suppress his smile as he ran towards you, immediately entwining your fingers once again. And the rest of the walk was spent just like that, in peaceful silence as you enjoyed each other’s presence in the cool, moist air.

“You’re such a goofball,” You mumbled at him, gaining his attention as you rubbed your thumb against the back of his hand. And before he could even reply with his loving, playful gaze, you completed the statement yourself, eyes twinkling in content.

“But you’re my goofball.”

↯ note: i pray to every god out there please just show up in the tags for fuck sake i worked hard on this ; - ; ⇥ dawn.☀️

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 5: Fairytales} |

| The folk tales always speak of those destined for greatness. Heroes alongside their faithful dragons, fighting the ever turning tides against evil. But they're just that, folk tales. After all, what are the chances a border-town apprentice seamstress like Marinette, would ever be offered a different vocation by the recruitment guild. |

| Word Count: 3,428. |

| Warnings/Tags: Kingdom/Fantasy/No Miraculous/Dragon Riders Au, Minor Lila & Adrien salt, Canon Typical lies and manipulation from Lila, Explicit Language/Swearing, and Some Fluff. |

———

| A/N: First things first, the word 'Dragoon' will be used multiple times in this piece and it is spelled that way on purpose (see end notes for further explanation). Secondly, yep! It's a dragon riding/academy au. This is the first piece of the series, which I'm really excited for because I've spent ages worldbuilding for! And for anyone worried about salt mention, it is addressed in this piece but the tag is there because of canon-typical Lila manipulation and lies, plus no Miraculous means no reason for Adrien with his sheltered upbringing to realise she's lying. |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's been a few days of tense stagecoach travel. And to be fair to Marinette, even she hadn't expected to be declared in the middle of the town square as showing aptitude for a position within the Justice League's armée volante—specifically the dragoon squadrons—thanks to the recruitment guild no less.

Unfortunately, Adrien and Lila had also shown an aptitude. Which, seeing as they all come from the same border-town of Paris, meant they were all trapped inside the same cramped coach space for the excruciating four days journey to reach Gotham Town; the place where they are being sent to attend the dragoon academy, which is technically outside the bounds of the town proper. Seeing as the Gotham Dragoon Academy and Somerset Dragon Range are on the opposite shores of the Gotham river to the town itself.

There's only another half-day until they reach the Mooney bridge and then the Somerset

Dragon Ranges. And luckily, Adrien and Lila have taken to sitting on the same bench, the one facing forwards. Leaving the opposite bench all for Marinette.

Not that having a whole bench to myself for this time will help with whether I can continue to survive as a captive audience for Lila. Marinette thinks to herself, rather disgruntled about this whole situation she's unwillingly ended up in. She was perfectly happily remaining an apprentice seamstress, sewing commissions for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the rest of her famous or otherwise clientele, not that fate seemed to care though. Of course, a part of her stipulation she fought the recruiters for, is that along with her studies she can continue her commissions for current and prior clientele alone. Which is to say, better than being completely unable to continue her main hobby and form of stress relief.

The recruiters had also said that baking and cooking would be no problem to practice, as apparently there'll be free reign to "student kitchens" alongside cooking classes so any use of either skill will be "undoubtedly encouraged". Dangerous words, Marinette muses to herself once more, because if I get claimed by a dragon the first thing I'm doing is baking all the dragon dietary-safe treats I can!

“Marinette! What do you think?” Lila asks, voice as cloying as ever.

Marinette startles and half-heartedly smiles awkwardly across at her, “ah, I'm really sorry Lila! I got distracted wondering what kind all of our dragons might end up being and how they might look!” Not, I'm going to love mine regardless of appearance unlike you.

Smiling faux-sweetly, Lila shakes her head. “Don't worry Marinette, I was only saying how we're just like those local fairytales of your town! Three close-knit friends who become powerful and famous dragoon guardians and save the world from the evil destruction of Hawkmoth and his army of shadow dragons! Out of the three of us, I would be our leader, obviously. Since I'm the only one here descended from a dragoon guardian! My grandmother even gave me a token that once belonged to my dragoon guardian ancestor!”

“Wow, you've said it before but I still can't believe how incredible you are Lila! It's going to be amazing training besides you at the academy!” Adrien gushes, gazing at Lila with adoration.

Lila preens at his words. “Thank you, Adrien! But Marinette, since you mentioned what our dragons will be, did you know my ancestor's dragon was said to be the most beautiful of all the dragons in the Justice League squadrons! My ancestor's dragon had orange scales that glimmered red and yellow like flames, and pearlescent white scales along the underbelly. Oh, and the horns were pearlescent white too! Obviously, the dragon I'll get is sure to be a descendant of that dragon and just as beautiful.”

“Wow, no wonder your ancestor's dragon was the most beautiful, they sound absolutely gorgeous! What kind of dragon do you think I'll get, Lila?” Adrien asks, eyes shining with awe and curiosity.

She puts on a show of holding her chin and humming. “Hmm, probably a golden dragon, with shiny scales as bright as the sun!”

“I hope you're right!” Adrien chuckles, “the fairy tales really would be coming true if we both get the dragons you think we will! One with scales of fire, another with scales of gold!”

“It really would.” Marinette echoes weakly, not really believing in her own words.

Lila laughs, “awww don't sound so worried Marinette, your dragon will probably be a plain and drab dragon with some sort of shade of brown, or maybe even grey. But at least it won't be attention-grabbing. So you won't need to worry about people staring and judging or dragons-forbid trying to hurt you for having a prettier dragon than any nobles!”

Marinette smiles, though it turns out far more grimace-like than intended, whoops. “Yeah… that'd be awful. Haha, I'd be really lucky to get a dragon like you described for me, Lila.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you understand, Marinette! Then again, all three of us are besties so of course you'd understand!” Lila titters, crossing her fingers, “we're just like this!”

Screaming internally, Marinette nods and keeps smiling. Dragons-almighty, I'm at the end of my thread here. Hopefully, I'll be able to leave Lila's "friendship" behind at the academy without fear of mine and my parent's reputations being ruined by Lila's mother.

Her attention is briefly taken by the rolling view outside the stagecoach, unable to help herself she mumbles to herself, “the landscape here is so pretty.”

“It is pretty I guess, but not as pretty as my home country!” Lila pipes up, jumping on the new conversation—like a shadow dragon on a sheep.

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second and breathes deeply, chanting internally. The academy will be my fresh start.

———

The academy is not in fact Marinette's fresh start.

It is well past evenfall by the time their stagecoach passes through the gates of the imposing academy. It rounds a large fountain in the centre of the courtyard with a statue of a person encircled by a large dragon. However, due to the darkness and the movements of the stagecoach, any attempts at recognising whom the statue was dedicated after are thoroughly hampered. They roll to a stop before the great stone staircase—where a figure with a smaller giant rat-like creature beside them, is waiting at the top—which clearly leads to the grand front doors of the academy.

Even with the darkness obscuring the view, it's obvious that the academy is a repurposed castle. High stone walls with crenellations and littered towers, a main keep with a multitude of buildings surrounding the inner courtyard. And the most eye-catching of all, the shadowy draconic gargoyles that seem to cling and lurk upon every building.

It's impressive to say the least, certainly the most well-fortified building Marinette has ever stepped foot in her life. Impressive enough that it has her practically clawing to pull out a sketching journal and start creating. However, she's not stupid enough to do that within Lila's presence. No, that'd undoubtedly lead to honey-coated lies and being forced to listen to her prattle on about her wondrous skills and connections to the most prestigious fashion guild in the country.

Marinette startles as the stagecoach door is opened by a footman. She doesn't fuss as Lila exits first, followed by Adrien. As she steps outside last, she nods and smiles at the footman. Whispering as audibly as she can without the other two hearing, she adds, “thank you, sir.”

The footman simply glances at her attire and nods back stiffly.

In the time it's taken to all leave the stagecoach, the figure from the stairs has walked over—a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a casual black leather riding coat, and a not-dog following behind loyally. “Good evening, you must be the potential students from the town of Paris?”

Marinette hesitates for a second before nodding along with Adrien and Lila.

Lila takes a step forwards, towards the woman. “Yes, we are! I'm Lila Rossi.”

The woman nods slowly, “and the other two must be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?”

“That's correct!” Adrien responds with a bright smile.

Marinette nods and makes an affirmative squeak instead.

“Great.” The woman says, clapping her hands. “I'm Dinah Lance and I'll be one of your instructors during your attendance here. And this,” She pauses to point to the weird giant not-rat with its yellow flecked greyish-brown fur, “is Drake, he's my Ichneumon. You'll learn all about Ichneumon and why they're used within the dragoon squadron during your time here, so don't worry if you've never heard or seen of them before.”

Drake makes a high pitched trill and takes a few steps forward, sniffing the air in front of the three of them. Before scampering in a circle around Dinah Lance.

She smiles fondly at Drake before continuing. “Unfortunately it's a little late to give you the tour of the grounds now, so we'll cover that tomorrow. Tonight we'll guide you to the dining hall for a late night's meal since it's been a long journey for you three or so I've heard, and you must be starving. Then we'll discuss the main details of your attendance, and afterwards, we will show you to the temporary rooms you will be staying in, to begin with. Any questions?”

Lila rocks on the heels of her boots before shaking her head, “no, we've got no questions!”

Adrien copies with a shake of his head too.

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, were you waiting out in the cold for us long? Will the tour teach us about the different places within the academy? Will it take long? What do you mean by the main details? Why are we staying in temporary rooms to begin with? When do our lessons start? Do we need to purchase any uniforms or schooling supplies? When will we meet our dragons? Questions bubbling in her mind like a kettle over the fire, but closes her mouth just as quickly, as she catches a glare from Lila out of the corner of her eye. With that, she also briefly and nervously shakes her head. “N–no, no questions here either, Mlle Lance.”

Internally, Marinette hopes that display is enough to tide over Lila's irritation for now.

Mlle Lance glances over the three of them, seeming to stare at Marinette a little longer than the other two. “Well then, since there are no questions, let us head to the dining hall. And don't worry about your belongings, the footman will bring them to your lodgings.”

“Oh, Mlle Lance, I'd–uh… I'd rather not hassle the staff here, I can manage bringing my belongings up on my own.” Marinette admits, wringing her hands slightly.

Mlle Lance shakes her head, “that's very polite of you but I'm afraid, as you'll be having dinner and we'll be discussing details, it'll be a little while before you head to your temporary rooms. So it'll be far easier on both you and the staff here, if you allow them to do their job.”

“Okay…” Marinette relents easily, trying to ignore Lila rolling her eyes at her.

“If there are no more further questions, then follow after me please, the academy can be rather labyrinthine for those unfamiliar with its halls.” Mlle Lance instructs, already turning around and walking back towards the great stone staircase, Drake on her heels.

———

The journey through the hallways and various anterooms of the academy takes far longer than Marinette could have anticipated. On more than one occasion, she ends up falling behind due to getting distracted by the sheer amount of luxury, art, and finery everywhere. Forcing her to frantically scurry after Mlle Lance, Lila, and Adrien—all three who seem completely at home and unperturbed or uninterested by the décor, unlike her.

By the time they reach the large and ornately carved wooden doors leading to the dining hall, Marinette is flushed bright red from the embarrassment of having fallen behind so many times.

The heavy doors creak loudly as they slowly swing open at Mlle Lance's push, revealing a large dining hall—far larger than any Marinette has seen—with seemingly hundreds of wooden tables and benches. Startlingly enough, there's a boy already seated at one of the nearer benches—eating away at a trencher of hunter's stew.

No Ichneumon in sight, Marinette notes, a fellow student perhaps?

“Good evening, Jason, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at the moment.” Mlle Lance greeted, nodding her head to him.

Jason squints at Mlle Lance and hunches his shoulders defensively. “B said I could grab food from here whenever I wanted.”

Mlle Lance smiles, “and that's perfectly fine. These are new arrivals, so I was just hoping to let them have some dinner without the usual chaos before going over the main details they'll need to know about attending here.” She paused for a moment. “You don't have to stay and listen if you don't want to, since you've heard this spiel many times now. But equally, feel free to stay, I'm sure it'd be nice for you and the new arrivals to get to know each other before meeting the rest of the class tomorrow.”

Jason slowly eyes Lila, Adrien, and Marinette. He places an arm in front of his trencher. “Might as well stay then I guess.”

Mlle Lance nods at him again before guiding the three of them over to the back of the dining hall where the kitchen was connected to. A few cooks were tending to various meals and pots of hunter's stew, as well as prepping trenchers or cleaning wooden bowls, and wood or horn spoons.

Marinette is still half processing everything so receiving a trencher full of hunter's stew from the cooks barely registers in her mind. And next thing she knows, she is seated next to Lila on the end of the bench and table next to Jason, with Mlle Lance sitting opposite her, Lila, and Adrien. The other two have already started tucking into the food, so cautiously Marinette takes a few sips of the stew broth with a horn spoon.

Mlle Lance clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “Let's start with what you three already know regarding the dragoon squadrons and this academy.”

Pausing in his eating, Adrien grins. “This is the longest standing dragoon academy, and we'll be taught everything from dragon history, to the language of the dragons, to what is known of Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army!”

“And,” Lila pipes up, “we'll pick our dragons that we'll train alongside and eventually become fully-fledged Dragoon Guardians with.”

Jason snorts, “sorry to break it you two but this isn't some fucking fairytale.”

Before Lila or Adrien could respond, Mlle Lance cleared her throat. “Right well firstly, Dragoon Guardians is somewhat of an archaic term I'm afraid. But you're not too far off with what you know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason pretends to be suddenly interested in his trencher of stew.

Though, Marinette does catch him briefly glancing up at her with a curious but also disbelieving look in his eyes. She can't help but instinctively curl her shoulders in and make herself as small as possible.

“And Marinette, what do you know about the academy?” Mlle Lance adds.

Marinette hesitates, trembling slightly and licks her lips. “Uh, well I know roughly the same as Lila and Adrien, so nothing that hasn't been said already…”

She catches Jason squinting at her, and she curls up even more.

Mlle Lance nods thoughtfully, “to start with, Adrien, you are correct in that this is the longest standing dragoon academy. You're also correct that we teach our students dragon history—including the history of the dragoons—as well as teaching the language of the dragon. We also do teach regarding Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army. However, that will be taught across multiple different subjects as it isn't quite as simple as it may currently seem to you.”

Adrien beams at having been mostly correct. “My father hoped I would be chosen to attend a dragoon academy so he made sure I was taught a general overview.”

“And that's more than most know to begin with, so well done.” Mlle Lance praises, before continuing. “However, Lila, here students do not pick their dragons. The process of meeting the dragon who will be raised and trained beside you, is not what most people think of when they first hear about dragoon human and dragon pairs meeting.”

Lila's lips twitch downwards in dissatisfaction and narrows her eyes slightly at Mlle Lance.

Before anything else can be said, Mlle Lance furrows her brows, “one moment students, a matter has just arisen that I need to quickly take care of.”

With that, she rises from the bench and strides out of the dining hall, shutting the door behind her as she exits.

As soon as the door shuts, Jason, with a concerned look on his face, gets up as well and walks the few steps over to Marinette's bench. Quietly, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

Marinette swallows a breath of air thickly, and still visibly trembling, laughs nervously. “W-well I'm a little over-overwhelmed, I suppose… What with every—”

Only to slam her mouth shut as Lila wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to her side.

“She's fine thank you,” Lila coos, “just not used to all the displays of wealth in the castle, here, isn't that right, Marinette.”

Marinette pales, eyes widening with panic and frantically nods her head. “Y-yep!”

Jason raises an eyebrow at Lila, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face as he turns ever so slightly to stare at her, “and you are?”

Lila perks up at his attention, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Didn't you hear Mlle Lance there, I'm Lila.” She smiles cloyingly at him and flutters her eyelashes. “I'm the daughter of a very important diplomat and one of my ancestors was an incredibly powerful Dragoon Guardian.”

Jason snorts, and rolls his eyes once more. “Right. Whatever.” He turns his attention back to Marinette and gives her a sharp nod. “What shit has the rich brat got hanging over your head?”

It clearly takes all of Lila's self-control to not immediately switch from her faux sweetness to fury. Her smile turns wooden and her gaze sharpens at Jason. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused,” Jason responds smugly.

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asks, struggling to process the conversation after the slight cannonball that Jason just casually asked her.

He tilts his head at her, not unlike a bird. “She looks, sounds, and acts exactly like the kinda rich bastards that hold shit above kids who aren't rich, and you're clearly fucking petrified of her. So is she blackmailing you or something?”

Marinette mouths yes at him whilst shaking her head.

Jason raises an eyebrow at her for a second before shrugging with one shoulder, “alright.” He turns on his heel and heads back to his table and bench where his trencher of stew is waiting.

Lila gapes at him.

Adrien rises from his seat and stares at Jason, flabbergasted. “Aren't you going to apologise to Lila, now? You were wrong.”

Lifting his chin, Jason gives Adrien an unimpressed look then flips the bird at him. A few seconds pass before he shrugs and makes a non-committal noise of disinterest, then he starts spooning stew into his mouth.

Lila huffs and scowls at Jason. She turns to glare at Marinette, faux concern practically dripping from her words despite the evident fury on her face. “You should avoid him from now on, wouldn't want the teachers to think you're a delinquent and get kicked out before you even get to meet your dragon.”

Marinette nods slowly and keeps her attention very carefully on her food.

Her patience is rewarded as a few dozen seconds later, Lila loses interest in her and starts eating her trencher of stew whilst starting a new conversation with just Adrien.

Taking her chances, Marinette sneaks a glance up at Jason with a small smile on her lips.

To her surprise, he also happens to be looking over at her. He flashes her a cheeky grin, winks, before going back to eating.

Maybe, she muses to herself as her grin turns giddy, I was wrong about the academy not being my fresh start. Because this definitely feels like a fresh start now, it almost feels like I'm in a fairytale.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| The dragon riders are called Dragoons in reference to the mounted cavalry called Dragoons who used guns/firearms known as Dragons hence the name. And so I decided it only makes sense for these dragon riders to also be called Dragoons. Armée volante means flying army and was what the historical dragoons were sometimes known as, because of how mobile they were. |

| Ichneumon, also known as Echinemon in Medieval Zoology are enemies of dragons (and snakes and crocodiles in some accounts) and defeated them by covering themselves in armour made from mud before attacking. They are also one the only creatures (the other being weasels) that are immune to the Cockatrices' petrifying sight. |

| Fun fact: Trenchers are flat round (often stale) bread "plates" used during the medieval era. They are cut in half and sometimes the fluffy bread innards are scooped out (like pumpkins) so that the loaf's crust forms a bowl instead. Usually the bowls are used to hold stews or soups, though they were also used for non-liquid based food (which is why they later evolved into our modern day plates and cheese boards). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 5 #Jasonette July Fairytales #Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar #SYRWaHtS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

39 notes · View notes

operation-619 · 3 years

Text

Siren’s lullaby

Geralt of Rivia x WOC/reader

Summary: (Y/N) seeks the Witcher to help her capture the woman that shed the blood of her family. She may have the voice of an angel but her intentions are far from heavenly.

Warnings: Blood, violence, murder, torture, language, nudity, discrimination, abuse/assault your media consumption is your own responsibility, you have been warned 18+

WC- 1.6K

Masterlist

I am hosting a little competition of sorts, I will pick five people to have their character be in my story just fill out this form- HERE.

The ocean flourished under the caress of the afternoon sun; waves lulled softly against the side of the ship as they foamed back into itself, the voices of the men drowned out the song of the birds as they ran about fixing sails and tying ropes. A man sat on the railing of the figure-head and watched carefully as the water rippled around them. His tanned skin glistened with sweat under the sun as he sharpened his knife, his eyes and mind were elsewhere.

A whisper of lust and flesh floated in the air, dancing around his head as he looked of into the distance, his hands worked independently – sharpening the knife on the flat stone he found in the hull of the ship, the motion came naturally to his body after years of repeating the same motion. The whispers grew quietly into a song of men floating to the treasure at the bottom of the sea, where gift beyond men were to be found. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought a ghoul was sat beside him, lips pressed against his ear and lulling him with unforeseen riches.

His eyes casted downwards, watching as the blues and greens mixed together creating an illusion of a fantasy that was always told in fairy tales. A lost city and civilisation of merepeople. He remembers the stories he use to hear from the elders, the upper-body that of a human, and the lower half was that of a fish with tails almost twice the size of their body, decorated in intricate scales and colours, with a fin at the end that helped them propel through the waters. Their hair a celadon-green and nipples of light-green. He remembered how many elders and others of his race were enamoured with their looks calling them nymphs of the sea, singing about their looks and the great power they hold.

But he was a child then, naïve, and simple-minded. Now he’s a man and the branding on his left forearm reminds those he crosses paths with that he is a dangerous man.

“You never think you are going to fall in sir?” his accent catches itself on the syllables, making it seem more pronounced and thicker. The man in question looked over his shoulder, throwing a hearty laugh to his crewman he put his knife back in it pocket and swung his body around before jumping back onto the deck.

“You insult me Mayarnde, all these year on this beauty and you still think I can’t balance myself right.” With a slap on the back, he moved towards the centre of the ship giving orders, joking with his men. The hour of peace brought clarity to his mind, something he needed from the past two moons. He thanked the stars for the peaceful journey, but deep down he really knew the reason, he would be foolish to deny it.

He made his way to back of the ship where the door to his quarters stood red wood splintering with age and the constant battle from the sea. It looked like it could do with a new glaze. The money he was getting paid after this trip would be enough to completely redo the entire ship and there would still be some left over.

“Maybe a visit to a brothel, the men could use the release.” He scratched his head as the thought occurred to him, he hadn’t laid with a woman for two moons. None of his men had, usually when they make a quick stop to grab some previsions, they have time to visit a whore or two. But their current guest was adamant on getting to their destination as quickly as possible. And god was he suffering.

He shut his door behind him and looked over his quarters, the desk was covered in parchments and writing utensils, the table in the middle of the room was completely covered by the map – markings plotting their course and other annotations that made little sense to him, his windows were open letting the warm breeze dance around. The parchments on the dark wooden walls fluttered as the wind gently swayed by, the sound of scribbling told him that someone had awaken.

Taking off his coat and throwing it onto the back of a chair, he wandered over to the map and observed the new markings, a thick circle marked out the city Cintra telling the man that was their final destination. It caused his eyebrows to raise, all this time and not once had he seen any city marked like this one.

“So, he is here then, the one you are looking for?” his violet eyes looked up to the woman hunched over the desk, reading new parchments that had only just arrived by raven. Her (H/C) hair was set free, coiling around her face and down to her navel, her deep-toned skin shone with a light sweat as she sat in the embrace of the sun. He watched her for a second noting the strange celadon-green highlights that would catch the sun every once in a while.

“Mhmm, Minoa told me that she heard talks of him in the area. Last, I know is that no one had seen him for weeks.” She shrugged her shoulders, not once looking up at the man in front of her. “But if Minoa said he was in the area that he is. It kind of her thing.” Her voice always brought a strange sensation over the man. He couldn’t exactly place it but, it felt relaxing almost peaceful.

“When do you want to dock because I saw land. So, we can reach there by the end of tomorrows light.” He rested his hip against the table, his sole focus on the woman. He only now notice that she was wearing his tunic with her trousers. It suited her, it suited her really well.

He really needed to visit a brothel soon.

“We can dock tomorrow, let the men rest, fuck a few whores and drink to get their shit back together. But I won’t leave the ship for a few days.” The language that came from her mouth never ceased to amaze him. When he first met her, he was taken aback by the way she dressed – tunic and trousers but the way she wore them made it seem perfectly fit for her. Her gaze was captivating and pierced his soul as she spoke to him. It trapped him in a trance. She had the air of a regal and noble lady, but the mouth of a sailor. It helped his men feel at ease.

The past two moons had been hard, the constant stopping and starting that only she knew the reason behind. But she helped his men through it, she had plenty of coin to keep their bellies happy throughout their trek across the great sea – meat and drinks that only the finest in life would eat. She was stronger than everyone thought too, she didn’t slink away into the quarter and stay there for the past two moons, she slaved away like the rest of the men. And her fighting skills were beyond anything he’d ever seen.

And he has seen some shit.

She finally looked up from the parchment and held his gaze, her plump lips spread into a soft smirk as she watched the man in front of her dumbly nod his head.

“Sorry Captain Saria, I forget you are not used to a woman using such language. I keep forgetting that, and I will most certainly need to fix my tongue once we land in Cintra.” She puffed out a laugh and bit her bottom lip. It had been some time since she’d been around people. Her life was normally quite and simple, in her term anyway.

She pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, letting them rest for a moment. She didn’t even remember blinking in the last few hours.

“(Y/N), what exactly are you looking for?” his violet eyes bore into her figure, he waited with bated breath for her to answer. And when her eyes met his, it took everything in him to not falter. It always amazed him how magnificent her eyes were, they could be the most tantalising feature throughout her entire being. One eye a breath-taking colour of (E/C) and the other celadon-green. It did give him some comfort, knowing that there was another out there from an ancient race. Throughout most of his adventures around this world he hardly saw anyone who looked like him, his elven bredrin had become scarce on this harsh world.

He was lucky with the life he has now.

“This man, he.” She put the writing pointe down and stood up from the chair she had been in for the past hour. She came in font of the desk and swiftly pulled herself to sit on top of it. She watched as Captain Saria looked her over, his violet eyes gazed at the shoulders that became exposed when the tunic slipped down.

“We have a lot in common, we are two beings that aren’t accepted in this world, Saria, he is going to help me find the woman that killed my family, my blood.” She brought her left arm forward and used her right hand to slowly roll up the sleeve of the tunic. An angry, jagged scar set itself along the expanse of her forearm. she delicately traced it with her fingers, a light mummer of pain made itself known. She had ran from her past, detached herself from everything she knew and it had worked. She became something she never dreamed of, she doesn’t even recognise her own reflection. (Y/N) looked back up at Saria, his eyes were dull, the sympathy felt mocking to her.

“I am the only one left out of my colony, I had to flee my home and become something I hate because my own home is unsafe. She took everything from me, and I intend to make her suffer.” (Y/N) let her arm flop back down. Her eyes clouded with the memories of her past, the laughter and pain, the children, Her blood.

Her people.

“And the Witcher is going to help me find her.”

__________

Let me know what you think my darlings. if you wish to be tagged let me know in the comments.

#geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #woc!reader #siren #mermaid #revenge #death #yennefer of vengerberg #fuck #masterlist

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Forget What I Said (It’s Not What I Meant) 3/3

His laugh is self deprecating. It’s almost hateful as he shakes his head and turns away from her. “I want you, love, more than anything. But I don’t want to be your secret. I’m not willing to sit around and wait for you to come to your senses. If you don’t have feelings for me as I do you, then I think you should go.”

“Hook,” she tries again uselessly.

“Please,” he begs, refusing to look her way for the first time. “I’ve known enough heartbreak in my life. I’ve learned to prevent it where I can.”

Hey! It’s @donteattheappleshook‘s birthday so I decided to post the last part of this story :) Also, we’re aware that we’re basically writing the same fic. That’s how this all started. so enjoy a double dose of Neverland nonsense. Originally posted for @neverlandnewyear

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being a kick ass beta and even better friend!

rated E for smut and language

~7400 words

Part 1, Part 2

Read on Ao3

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschazi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook

She’s fine. Everything is totally and completely fine. Nothing is bothering her.

That’s what she tells herself when she sees Hook and Tink walk into Granny’s a week after his hardcore rejection of her. She nearly chews a hole through her straw.

“Mom,” Henry says, probably not for the first time, as he waves at her to get her attention. “Mom, I have to go to school.”

“Right, right, I know,” she responds, wiping her mouth with her napkin and scooting to the edge of the bench.

“You don’t have to walk me, you know.”

“I want to,” she says with a smile. She does want to, any chance she gets to spend time with her son is a gift. Any chance she gets to spend time away from Hook is also a gift. She walks to the register and notes Ruby’s gaze, deep and adoring as she stares in Hook’s direction. Of course.

“Sorry,” she says once her attention is brought back. “Checking out?”

“Yeah,” Emma grumbles, taking out her wallet and handing some cash to Ruby.

She sighs longingly as she counts the cash, hardly looking down, then says, “you guys were in Neverland together, huh?”

Emma rolls her eyes and takes her change, unable to answer before Henry calls for her from the door. She exits the diner, and it takes way too much effort to not look back at Hook as she does so.

By the time she gets to the station, her mood is less than sunny, but that doesn't stop her father from shouting, “good morning, sunshine!” as she walks in.

Mumbling a greeting in his direction, she sits at her desk and tries to ignore the anger bubbling up inside her. How could he move on that quickly? How could he tell her that he has feelings for her and then start hanging around with her? He knows she has walls, she just didn’t expect him to give up scaling them so quickly. She thought she meant more to him than that.

She isn’t sure why meaning more to him than that is so important to her.

Sadness, she thinks. What she’s feeling isn’t anger, it’s sadness. She’s sad that she lost him. Sure, she’s mad at him for rejecting her, but she has to assume that the constant desire to break down and cry is more due to her sadness at their… well, it isn’t a breakup.

“Hon,” she hears from the office door, jumping back into reality with a start. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” she sighs, sitting back in her chair as David walks in and makes himself at home.

With a soft smile, he sits in the chair across from her and folds his hands over her crossed knees. “So,” he starts. “What’s up?”

She lets out a suspicious laugh, giving him a look of incredulity. “Not much, you?”

David smiles again and shakes his head. “I mean what’s going on? What’s up with you lately?”

“Ah,” she laughs. “Just jumping right into it, are we?”

“More my style,” he explains, and she laughs again. “Emma, something’s clearly on your mind, and I think I know what it is.”

She looks up at him through her lashes shyly and shrugs. “I guess.”

“You’ve got a lot of pressure on you right now. And I’m sure a lot of people want you to make… difficult decisions.”

“It shouldn’t be this difficult,” she says without thinking much. But her father’s right. She is getting pressured from almost everyone she knows. She wants nothing more than to make Henry happy, but if it’s at the expense of her own happiness, is it worth it? Does thinking that way make her a bad mom? Is choosing her own happiness worth the backlash she’s sure to get? When did Hook become her happiness? “If you thought you were coming in here to tell me to be with Neal, don’t even bother.”

“Oh, I’m not here to push you in one direction or another. Just to tell you I understand.”

“You do?”

“Sure,” he shrugs. “You know who doesn’t? Your mother.”

She lets out a hearty laugh now, her first in weeks, and asks, “what makes you say that?”

“Well, she believes in your first love being your true love. She thinks that if you had love for Neal back then, then you must have love for him now.”

“I do,” she sighs. “But I can’t just…”

“You can’t trust him.” He isn’t even asking. She nods. “Because of your past?”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice small and weak as she thinks of all that they’ve been through. All that he put her through.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She slumps back into her chair and lets out a groan, thrusting her fingers into her hair and tugging just slightly. David laughs softly but waits with gentle patience.

“It was… I was homeless. I was on the run after leaving a foster home.” She knows that the way she starts the story surprises her father, but he lets her continue without interrupting. “I broke into a car, and it turns out he had already stolen it; that’s how we met. And I was so young and naive, and I never really had anyone who cared for me like that before, so I fell for him. The Bonnie and Clyde act was so romanticized, but at the end of the day, we lived in a car and stole every meal. We couldn’t keep going on like that, so we made a plan to settle down.”

She can see the pain in her father’s face as she tells him what her life was like growing up without him. She knows it isn’t his fault, and he knows it too, but that knowledge doesn’t make the truth hurt any less.

“Anyway, he had stolen some watches a few months prior and was wanted. He couldn’t collect the watches from where he stashed them without getting caught, and we needed the money so that we could settle down. I decided to get the watches. And he was gonna go and fence them and meet me after with the money, but he gave me one first. So when he called the cops and they found it on me, it was easy to pin the crime on me.”

“Emma,” he breathes, dropping his head to his hand briefly before looking back up at her with glassy eyes.

“It’s just…” she says through her own tears, ones she didn’t realize were falling. “I loved him. I really thought I did. And when I found out I was pregnant, a part of me wished he would come back and we could be a family. But he never did, and the more time that went by, the more I realized I could never—” she chokes on a soft sob at the memory. “I could never have raised Henry by myself. I had nothing. No one to help me. No money, nowhere to live… I was stuck with a criminal record and a teenage pregnancy and it was all because of him.”

It was because of him. What’s to say he won't do it again?

All she can think about is the one person she knows would never do that to her.

“I had no idea,” David says sadly.

“How could you?”

He shakes his head and sighs. “It all makes perfect sense. I wasn’t sure why you were so adamant about not being with him but…”

“I don’t think I ever forgave him. I don’t know if I ever could. He— he took away my chance to raise my son.”

She didn’t expect to be so emotional about this; she’s had plenty of time to process what’s happened. Maybe it’s the fact that this is one of the most heartfelt conversations she’s ever had with her father. Maybe it’s the fact that her old wounds have been ripped open again by Neal’s return.

She considers the pain and fear that comes with being with him. She thinks about the comfort and security she feels with Hook. She wants to bury her head in sand.

“I’m sorry that your mother and I have been pushing you to be with him. It isn’t fair to you.”

“You didn’t know.”

“We should’ve known you had a good reason.” She shrugs, sighing and resting her head on the desk for just a moment. “You know, this seems like a pretty easy decision to me: don’t be with Neal.”

She laughs at that, lifting her head and resting back against the chair. “Yeah, that’s the easy part.”

“Ah, I knew it. So this isn’t just about him?”

Rolling her eyes, she says, “you’re pretty perceptive, aren’t you?”

He hums out a laugh and says, “Well, if you want my advice, which I realize you didn’t ask for but I’m going to give anyway, I’d say you deserve to be with someone who would do anything for you. Someone who would go out of their way to make sure you’re safe, that your family is safe. Someone… honorable.”

“Honorable…?” She cocks her head to the side and somehow knows exactly where he’s going with this.

“Yeah. Someone who has had a few opportunities to show that he’s honorable. Someone who has proven himself, despite his past.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes and saying, “you’re too much.”

“I’m not nearly as dramatic as someone else I know, whom I believe I saw heading to his ship not thirty minutes ago.”

She looks up at him again, this time cautiously, emotionally, and says, “you did?”

With a smirk, he nods. “I saw how happy you were for the past few weeks, Emma, and I can see how unhappy you are now. I don’t know what went on between you and Neal, or you and Hook, but whatever it is, it’s time to fix it. You deserve to be happy.”

She does, doesn’t she? Hasn’t she had enough heartache in her life? Isn’t it time for her to admit to herself what would make her happy?

His strong arms holding her, keeping her safe. His soft touches as he comforts her whenever she’s upset. His gentle words of encouragement and belief in her.

He makes her happy. And she messed it up. She hurt him.

She’s got to fix this.

She huffs and rolls her eyes again, standing and taking her keys off of the desk. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” he calls after her. She rolls her eyes again.

~~~~

She’s on his ship again.

She’s holding flowers.

Roses.

Emma feels the tears trailing down her cheeks, cool against her flaming skin, and drops her head down onto her arms dramatically. She’s too late, she thinks. She hurt him too badly. There’s no way she can put herself out there now. Tink is probably a better match for him anyway. They have a long history, and if she considers the shared glances on the island, probably a sensual one. She probably knows him better than almost everyone. Better than Emma, at least.

God, she messed up.

She messes up more, though, when her arm slips off the steering wheel and her head collides with the horn, alerting everyone at the docks of her presence.

Everyone.

She scrambles, cursing as she searches for the keys in her bag that lays on the passenger's seat. “Fuck,” she mumbles once she finally finds them, but her hands are shaking so much that she can’t find the correct key and get it into the ignition. Once she finally does, she roars the engine to life and whips it into drive, glancing up and out the windshield, when she sees him. She screams, jumps, and starts rolling towards him.

She hears his soft bloody hell from inside the car as he holds up his arms as if surrendering to her manic driving. She puts the car back into park and drops her head to the wheel once more.

He rounds the car, squatting before her window and smiling softly before he points down, asking her to open it for him. She obliges, reaching for the crank and turning it painstakingly as it squeaks in resistance. “Alright, love?” he asks, and she thinks it might kill her to be here.

“Sorry that I interrupted whatever you and Tink—”

“You didn’t interrupt. Tink was just leaving. She’s got a big date tonight.”

Leave it to him to rub it in. Bastard. “I’m sure you’ll have a marvelous time.”

He scoffs, standing up as if to leave, and she rolls her eyes. But he walks around the car until he reaches the passengers side and jiggles the handle until she unlocks it. He moves her bag and places it on his own lap once he sits. “Swan,” he says, staring at her despite the fact that she refuses to look anywhere but straight ahead. “Emma, look at me.”

She turns, looking at him through her lashes and wishing she didn’t have to hold back. She wishes she could reach over the center console and kiss him. But despite her acceptance of her own feelings, she knows she needs to do the right thing.

“What’s wrong?”

She isn’t sure what to make of this question. Of all the things he could say, he chooses this. She thinks of the fact that Neal hasn’t noticed anything being off about her.

“Nothing,” she lies, faking a smile and looking back at the horizon.

“Emma,” he repeats. His voice is commanding, but not threatening. “You forget that you’re an open book, love. You’re here for a reason; tell me what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out without meaning to.

He draws in his brows, then raises one dramatically as he stares her down. “You are?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes.”

“For what?”

“You’re gonna make me say it?” she scoffs.

With a smirk, he responds, “aye.”

With a sigh, she drops her head once again onto the wheel, then lets out a loud groan. “I’m sorry,” she starts, “for everything. You were right, I was using you, and I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

She lifts her head just slightly to look at him for a moment, and sees a soft smile gracing his face. “Thank you.”

She leans back in the seat, her gaze finding the ceiling far too interesting. “And,” she says, struggling a bit to get the words out. “I’m sorry that my inability to deal with my own feelings hurt you.”

He takes her hand in his but she can’t look at him. He squeezes softly and says, “Swan.”

With a sigh, she gives in, unable to look away from those forget-me-nots for long. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

As she stares into his eyes, she realizes why she was trying so hard not to. They’re so enchanting that she’s sure she could say something foolish if she continued to stare into them. Instead, she whispers, “you’re welcome.”

“Would you care to come aboard so we can talk a bit more comfortably?” he asks softly, taking her hand in his hesitantly.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why’s that?” His face is falling, and she wants to catch him and make him smile again.

“I don’t want to get between you and Tink. I shouldn’t have even said anything— if you’ve moved on with her—”

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he says through a laugh. “Tink was here for advice. She doesn’t know much of anything about this town and she was interested in Ruby. She wanted to see if I knew anything about her from my short time here before Neverland.”

She squints as she thinks, then blurts out, “Ruby?!”

With a chuckle, he responds, “aye. Ruby and Tink have a date tonight,” and suddenly things start to make sense.

“So when she was here last week…”

“Why Swan,” he says with a smirk, “are you implying that you were here last week?”

She blushes fiercely and chooses honestly as she nods. “Yeah, but I left. And I’m glad I did.”

“Why’s that?”

“When I came then, I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t have said the things I needed to say. I’m glad I waited until now so that I could tell you that…”

“That…?”

“That I… I like you.”

His smile is brighter than the sun reflecting off of the dancing ocean waves. “I quite like you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes.” She laughs softly, meeting his eyes once more and falling for him a bit harder. “Now, would you come aboard? I’m sure you could use something to eat.”

She shouldn’t be surprised that he seems to have noticed her nearly full plate at breakfast this morning. With a small smile, she says, “okay.”

When they get to the galley, kept as tidy as the rest of the ship, he offers her an orange, citing their curative properties. When she accepts, he uses his hook to start peeling it, but once she takes over, he looks at her suspiciously. “What?” she asks.

“I’ve just never seen you willingly eat something so healthy,” he shrugs. “I’m surprised you aren’t demanding Poptarts.”

With a scoff, she says, “it’s not like you have any.”

“Well, I’m not sure what the bloody hell a s’mores is,” he says, walking towards a cabinet and taking out a large blue box. Family size. Her mouth is watering. “But I suppose they do look rather appealing in the picture here.”

“You didn’t,” she says with a grin, unceremoniously dropping the inferior orange onto the table and hurrying towards him.

He shrugs, easily opening the box with his hook. “Well,” he says, trailing off and giving her a knowing smirk as he hands her one of the silver packets.

Instead of taking it, she leans towards him and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. He lets her kiss him for a few moments, backing them up so that he leans against the cabinet, before breaking them apart and murmuring, “eat,” against her lips.

“I’m hungry for something else,” she whispers, but her stomach growls angrily and he hoists her into his arms and carries her backwards until he can rest her on the small table in the center of the galley.

“I’ll not be able to have my wicked way with you if you swoon from hunger, love,” he says flirtatiously, touching their foreheads together, cupping her cheek in his palm and running his thumb along her bottom lip tantalizingly. “Eat,” he repeats, his breath fanning over her face and making her eyes flutter.

“You’re no fun,” she pouts when he breaks away from her, not even giving her a final kiss.

“I’ll be much more fun later,” he promises as he sits in the chair just below her and takes the half-peeled orange, starting on it again for himself. Once it’s opened up, he begins segmenting it meticulously, peeling away the pith and dropping it onto the discarded peels that he left on the table. Watching him place each segment into his mouth halfway and bite down, licking his lips as the juice escaped them, is driving her mad with want.

She eats her Poptart slowly, barely able to appreciate the sweet taste she loves so much because of the distraction he serves. But then she realizes that not only is he perhaps the sexiest man she’s ever met, he’s also the most thoughtful. Seriously, a family sized box of her favorite, most versatile meal doesn’t seem like a big gesture, but she knows the meaning behind it. He bought that for her because he cares about her comfort and her happiness. He knows they’re terrible for her, and will likely berate her when she finishes the box in a week, but he got them anyway because he cares.

Dammit.

She puts the empty foil packet down on the table by the discarded peel and scoots to the edge of the surface before him, dropping herself onto his lap and straddling his hips with her knees. She isn’t even sure this chair can support the weight of the both of them, but she supposed they’ll find out soon enough when it either breaks or he complains of a safety issue.

He doesn’t though, he merely pops the last segment into his mouth salaciously and places a hand on her hip, smirking as he chews in a way that shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. “Finished?” she asks him in a breathy tone when he licks his lips again.

“With the orange,” he confirms with a nod. “With you, not even close.”

She giggles, actually giggles, before her fingers find his hair and she’s kissing him, enjoying the taste of citrus against her tongue. His hand begins to roam her back, tucking up under her jacket and stroking along her soft, thin shirt while his hook finds purchase in the belt loop of her jeans. It's so easy to be here, to melt into him under his touch, to let herself relax into the feeling of being his.

He breaks away from her slightly, gently, and runs his fingers through her hair to move it away from her face. “What is it?” he asks, as if he can’t quite read her racing thoughts.

With a smile, she shrugs and leans into his palm against her cheek. “Nothing,” she starts. “Just… this feels right.”

He smiles too, leaning closer to kiss her chastely. “Aye, it does. I’m glad to hear you think so.”

“I want,” she begins, cut off by her own insecurity until his thumb traces the line of her jaw soothingly. “I want you. I want— I want to be with you.”

“You’re with me, love,” he breathes against her, kissing her softly once more.

She falters at his misunderstanding, but forces herself forward so that he grasps her true meaning. “I meant I want… us. I want to try— with you.”

He’s still for a moment, and she feels her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She wonders if he can hear it. Though she thought they were on the same page, she isn't sure if this is him gearing up to reject her again. Maybe he isn't ready.

But when the smile grows on his face and he kisses her again, sweet and passionate and everything she’s been missing over the last week, her heart races for a different reason. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he says against her lips, kissing her again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She wastes no time bringing his lips back to hers, running her fingers through his thick, ink-black hair and tugging him as close to her as she can. His hand continues to run up and down along her side before finally tucking under her shirt, erupting a trail of goosebumps in its wake and making her shiver against him. He chuckles as she wiggles just slightly and asks, “cold, love?”

“No,” she responds. “Definitely not.”

“Are you hot, then?” he asks with a smirk before biting her bottom lip lightly and drawing a giggle from her.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, I'm hot for you.”

She snorts and pulls away from him, resting her head on his shoulder and biting the soft flesh where his neck needs his shoulder. He hisses, and the sound goes straight through to her core.

“Take me to bed,” she whispers in his ear before biting the lobe.

He hums lewdly and squeezes her before backing the chair up from the table and hoisting her up into the air, her ankles crossing around him. He struggles carrying her through the ship, having to go from the galley to the main deck and then back down into his quarters, but he doesn't complain once.

When they get down the ladder, Emma terrified that he’ll drop her but keeping her fears to herself as she clings tightly to his shoulders and hips, he plops her on the bed and smirks down at her devilishly. “My my,” he says. “How I’ve missed you.”

With a soft smile, she asks, “have you?”

“Of course I have,” he answers, crawling up the length of her and settling himself upon her. “I hope you know I took no pleasure in turning you down the last time, love.”

“I know,” she says with a sad smile, the memory flooding back to her. She touches his cheek gently with her hand, reveling in the fact that she’s here now, despite what’s happened between them. “It’s good that you did. I had to figure myself out.” He hums but doesn't agree verbally, perhaps worried about offending her. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispers. His eyes sparkle a bit and she thinks it must be because she uses his name. He likes when she does that.

“I know, darling. You needn't say it again.”

“You were right, I was using you and it was unfair.”

“I’m only happy you see that now, and that we’re able to move past it.”

“Yeah.”

He kisses her fervidly and she returns it, hoping to convey exactly how she's feeling through the connection between them. His tongue snakes out along her lip until she grants him access and he takes it happily. His hand trails back down her waist, squeezing her hip as if he can’t get her close enough to him. “I want you,” he mumbles against her mouth without actually breaking from her. “You've no idea how badly I wanted to eat my pride and let you into my bed when you came here, Swan. Thinking I wouldn’t ever have you again was torture.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I never want to stop this.”

“Good.”

His lips trail down her jaw, along her throat, towards her chest, until he moves her shirt aside and licks against her sensitive skin along the line of her bra and she moans. He raises himself off of her a bit and tugs her jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the ground, then follows suit with her shirt. “Has it truly only been a week since I’ve seen these breasts?” he wonders aloud dramatically, drawing a laugh from her.

“You're ridiculous,” she chortles, tugging on his hair as he removes her bra. He finally mastered the modern corset a few weeks ago and he gets it off quickly, even with one hand. Once she’s free from her confines, he tosses the garment to the floor with grandeur and pounces on her, drawing a hearty laugh from her.

Her laughter is short lived, as the second his tongue strokes along her hardened nipple, her breathing chokes. He nips and sucks and licks just right until she’s being driven mad, his hand paying attention to the neglected breast. His hook trails her waist, the cool steel a shock to her heated flesh, until he reaches the button of her jeans and releases her nipple with a pop. He travels further down her body until he reaches the button, his face lining up to it and his fingers working deftly as if he needs to be close to complete his task. When he tugs the pants down her legs, his hand squeezes her ass lightly on its way down and she giggles again. She’s never laughed this much during foreplay, ever.

He presses hot kisses against the front of her, still covered in her cotton underwear, before he loops his hook in then and starts tugging them down as well. Feeling the contrast between his warm fingers and his cool hook against her flaming skin drives her wild with her need for him.

He sits up so that he can toss her pants and boots to the floor, and she only thinks about how unfair it is that he’s still fully dressed for a moment before he’s trailing hot, wet kisses from her knee up the inside of her thigh. “So flawless,” he murmurs against her leg, biting her flesh and likely leaving a mark. “So perfect, and all mine.”

She moans again once he finds his way to her center, licking a strip through her dampened folds. She hums happily and her fingers find his hair, never tiring of the vision of his head between her legs. A thought pops into her head, and she realizes this is the first time they've been this intimate in his bed. It’s the first time they haven’t had to rush through it.

“Killian,” she breathes out as his fingers dive into her and curl just right.

He hums against her in response and she keens, arching her back in hopes of getting closer to him. “Aye, love?” he asks with his tongue planted against her clit.

“Fuck,” she mumbles. “More.”

She thought she was going to ask him to stop so that he could fuck her, but at this point, she’s so close that she can’t seem to form the words. He continues his unyielding attention to her until she snaps, silently screaming and pulling on his hair too hard.

It’s only once she’s come down, as he continues to stroke his fingers against her tightened muscles, that she notices him rutting his hips against the mattress, still fully clothed. She places her hands on his forehead, then his cheeks once he emerges from between her thighs. “Come here,” she whispers. He smiles, doesn’t smirk, and crawls up the length of her to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You’re still dressed,” she remarks.

“I’m sure we can remedy that.”

“How? There are so many buttons, and they’re so small.” He laughs as she goes on. “How do you even get them done? I’m not surprised you leave so many open.”

“I suppose I’ll need your help then, darling.”

Pushing his shoulders, she flips him onto his back and straddles his lap, bending down to plant her lips against the skin of his chest with each button that she opens. She pushes it open and finds a scar from a blade on his side, below his ribs, and presses a kiss there. She finds another from a bullet on his shoulder and decorates it with another kiss. She takes his arm in hers and kisses the tattoo above his wrist.

She undoes the laces on his trousers and pulls them off, her face lining up with his cock so that she can lick a strip up his shaft. He groans as she does, and his hips jump towards her when she takes him in her mouth. She can hardly fit all of him in her mouth without her eyes watering.

She revels in the sounds he makes in response to each of her movements, groaning and moaning as she swallows around him. She hollows her cheeks around his tip before taking him again, but he places his hand on her cheek to stop her. “Love,” he rasps. “I want you.”

She releases him with a soft pop and looks at him through her lashes as he takes a deep breath, guiding her up to him and kissing her softly. “You’re incredible,” he whispers against her lips.

With a giggle, she sits up, taking him in her hand once more and stroking him a few times before running the tip along her folds. He squeezes her hip as she tucks him inside her and they groan in unison. She looks down at him as he fills her to the hilt, and she realizes it’s the first time that she’s made eye contact with him during sex. It won't be the last.

He thrusts up into her forcefully as she grinds on top of him, the two of them setting an unforgiving pace for themselves. For each other. He bends his knees behind her, supporting her rear against his thighs and giving her more leverage. She plants her palms on his chest, her hair a curtain around the both of them before he leans up to capture her lips in his. She drops down, her elbows beside his head and his arms around her waist to pull her closer as they continue their movements against each other.

After a moment, he shifts them so that they’re flipping over, Emma landing on her back with Killian on top of her. He plunges back in, kissing her passionately as he thrusts relentlessly, perfectly. She claws at his back and desperately whispers, “don’t stop,” into his ear. He groans and buries his nose into her neck and kisses her skin, the tender gesture a contrast from his fierce thrusts.

They reach a precipice together, clinging to each other and shouting out into each other’s skin. She lets her muscles tighten around him until she falls off the edge of the cliff he’s been working her towards, then she feels him spilling himself into her almost immediately after and it makes her cling to him harder.

He kisses along her neck and jaw and face endlessly as they come down from their highs, and she can only smile once she catches her breath. When she does, she kisses him back.

“That was marvelous,” he whispers, and she chuckles.

“Yeah,” she breathes back. “Thank you.”

“You needn’t thank me for that, love. I’m sure it’ll happen again.”

With a laugh, she says, “no, I mean thank you for listening. And for giving me a chance.”

He rests his forehead against hers and nuzzles his nose against her own and says, “always.”

~~~~

They should’ve been more careful. It was the middle of the morning when she arrived, and she was technically supposed to be working, so they should have taken care not to fall asleep. But when she wakes and the sun isn’t streaming brightly through the eastern-facing windows, she knows she’s screwed.

“Killian,” she hisses, jabbing his ribs with her elbow as he holds her back to his front. “Wake up, I have to go.”

“No you don’t,” he mumbles into her hair, holding her tighter.

“I’m supposed to be at the station.”

“Shhh.”

She rolls her eyes, unaware that Navy men could nap, and wriggles her way out of his tight hold in favor of grabbing her phone. She should have cleaned herself up before they fell asleep, but she didn’t exactly plan on that happening.

When she pulls her phone out of her pocket, she has 3 texts from David.

Hope everything’s going well… All good?

Actually, I don’t want to know.

Been a while, let me know if you’re coming back today.

Dammit.

She scurries around the room to get her clothes on, refusing to speak with her father without them, and then calls him to put his mind at ease. He answers on the first ring. “She’s alive!”

“I’m sorry. I lost track of time and—”

“Seriously, I don’t wanna know. Shifts almost over anyway,” she pulls the phone away and sees that he’s right. She’s a terrible sheriff. “I was able to handle everything. Take the rest of the day and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. You two worked it out, I’m assuming?”

With a grin and a blush as she looks down at Killian who begins to stir, she says, “yeah, we did. Thanks, Dad.”

“See you later,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

When she hangs up, she sees him smiling at her and she can’t help but to go back towards the bed. “Morning,” he murmurs.

“Hardly. It’s almost 3.”

“You must be famished then.” He pulls her hand so that she’s laying across his chest atop the blanket.

“I could eat, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood for another Poptart.”

“I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than one a day.” She doesn’t have the heart to tell him it comes with two in each package.

“Granny’s?”

“Sounds perfect.”

~~~~

They sit across from one another in the booth, Emma’s back to the door, before she thinks better of it and moves to sit beside him. It’s a tight squeeze, but she doesn’t mind being close to him. He gives her a look, a quirky smile as if he’s entertained, and tucks his hook under the table. She wonders if he does this to hide it from her, but she can’t imagine why he would think he’d need to. So, rather than ignore the thoughts like she may have a week ago, or even yesterday, she reaches under the table and takes his hook in her hand to hold it tenderly.

He breathes out in a way that could be a laugh, or perhaps it’s in disbelief, and he bumps her shoulder with his.

“The usual?” Granny asks with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by their close proximity and child-like grins.

“Yes, please,” Emma responds, stomach singing praises at the prospect of a grilled cheese and onion rings.

Killian orders a clam chowder, apparently something he can’t get enough of, much like you, love.

She giggles again, something that makes her so unlike the person she thought she was, and presses her nose to his neck, leaving a kiss there. She’s about to tell him something, she isn’t sure what— perhaps that she thinks he’s funny, or that he’s ridiculous— when the door opens with particular force.

“Emma,” she hears, the tone accusatory, and she straightens, stiffening but not pulling too far away.

Henry’s with him.

Neal picked him up from school.

“Hey mom!” he calls as he rushes towards the table and sits across from them.

“Hey kid,” she says back with a smile. Though she’s rigid, she feels her muscles relaxing in the presence of her son. “How was school?”

She notes Neal from the corner of her eye, sitting awkwardly at the counter but still facing them suspiciously.

“Good, I learned my eights times tables.”

“Wow,” she says with a smile. Though she hated math, she finds that Henry enjoys it, and she couldn’t be prouder. “That sounds fun.”

“What’s this time table? Some sort of clock?” Hook asks.

“Modern math,” Emma explains with a soft laugh, and he nods in understanding.

“So, what are you guys doing here?” he asks, gesturing towards her close proximity to Killian.

“Ah,” Hook says awkwardly, scratching behind his right ear. “Grabbing some lunch.”

“Isn’t it kinda late for lunch?”

She clears her throat and straightens a bit, taking hold of his hook once more under the table and trying to speak loud enough so that Neal can hear. She’s sure he will, as she’s sure he’s listening closely. “Actually, Henry, we’re on a date.” Killian looks at her immediately, surprise and excitement written across his face, and when she meets his gaze, she smiles softly at him. “Right?”

He looks at her so longingly, so… lovingly, that she can’t help leaning towards him. She almost kisses him before she hears Neal stand from his stool and walk over. “Henry, I gotta go.”

“I thought we were having milkshakes?”

“Seems like you can have one with your mom and… Hook,” he spits in disgust.

“Neal,” Emma tries, but he holds up a hand to silence her.

“It’s fine, Ems. I see you’ve made up your mind and that’s just fine.”

She glances towards Henry and Killian and then stands, placing a hand on Neal’s shoulder to not-so-gently persuade him to speak with her in private.

“Neal, come on,” she says once they’re alone.

“What?”

“So I didn’t choose to be with you! I’m sorry about that. It doesn’t have to impact us.”

“There is no us, Emma. You made that perfectly clear when you stood me up and got together with him.”

She rolls her eyes and huffs an angry breath. “We have a child together. We will always have a relationship. And you were engaged a few weeks ago! To someone who kidnapped my son!” she hisses in quiet anger.

“I didn’t know Tamara was like that!”

“The point is, you have no claim over me. You have no right to judge me for moving on and being happy with someone who isn’t you. I can’t go through this with you. You were just engaged to someone else. How could I even believe you?”

“That thing with Tamara wasn’t even real, Emma, you know that.”

“But you didn’t know that; it was real for you. And seeing how fast you moved on from her just reminded me how fast you moved on from me. After you left me in jail.”

“We’re not seriously talking about that again, are we?”

“We’ve never talked about it!” She’s trying so hard not to raise her voice, mindful of the fact that Hook is somehow entertaining Henry across the diner.

“I moved on from her because I knew I wanted to be with you!”

“It’s not enough for me. I deserve to be with someone who makes me feel safe. Who shows me every day that they want to be with me too. That I mean something to them.”

His tone is so patronizing that she feels herself shrinking. “When did I ever show you that you didn’t mean something to me?”

“When you called the cops!” She does shout now, the diner quieting and the patrons turning to look at them discreetly, and she blushes

“You’re really letting the chance of us go because of a pirate and a mistake I made 12 years ago.” It wasn’t a question. He seems in such disbelief and she honestly isn’t sure what to say to make him see her point. The fact that it isn’t just what happened 12 years ago.

“That wasn’t a mistake, Neal. A mistake is something you can fix. What you did ruined my life. You took away my chance to raise my child.” It’s all she can do to keep from crying at the memory of the decision she had to make.

“I didn’t know,” he says softly, weakly, as he looks down at his feet.

“I don’t care.”

“Well, what about Hook?” He asks, raising his voice now. “He left with the bean, didn’t he?”

“And then he immediately came back and helped us rescue Henry! He made amends! There’s nothing you can do that will make me forgive you for what you did to me. To him.”

“You said you loved me.”

“Because you gave me my son. You said you wouldn’t stop fighting for us; just… fight for him. He loves you, so I want to be civil and coparent with you. But that’s all you and I will ever be. Please respect that I’ve made my decision and it runs so much deeper than choosing between you and Killian.”

He’s silent for a moment, essentially pouting as he tucks his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and kicks at the ground, before he says, “fine. I gotta go.”

“Okay. When are you seeing Henry for dinner this week?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neal, don’t take this out on him. Just tell me when you plan on seeing him for dinner.”

“I don’t know,” he says more forcefully. “I’ll text you or something.”

“Fine.”

She watches as he walks by the booth, glaring at Hook and tapping Henry on the shoulder, then walks out the door without a word.

~~~~

Later, when they’re on his ship out on the bay, laying together on the main deck as the stars shine in the blackened sky, he runs his fingers through the ends of her hair and she traces hers through the curls on his chest. “I only know the Big Dipper,” she says softly, and he hums happily.

“I’ll teach you, love.”

She curls up closer to him, tucking her head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “That sounds nice.”

“And perhaps we can have dinner beforehand. Somewhere other than Granny’s?”

With a soft chuckle, she asks, “why Captain, are you asking me out?”

“I believe that’s customary in this realm, yes?”

“Yes, I guess it is.”

He kisses against her temple, pulling her closer to him until she’s giggling and hopping up onto his hips and straddling her thighs around his, running both hands along his cheeks and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Well then,” he says once she releases him, “I quite look forward to it. Henry informed me that you may enjoy an Italian meal.”

“Henry did?”

“Aye, lad was quite excited, I’d say. Said something about taking you out on a real date. And about being glad to see his mother so happy.”

She laughs in disbelief and shakes her head before kissing him, this one with more fervor than the last. She sneaks her tongue along his bottom lip softly as his hand trails up her waist, and she can’t help the contented sigh that releases from her nose. “I am happy,” she says when they press their foreheads together.

“Aye, I look forward to making you happy for many years to come.”

And he does make her happy, scaling her walls and crashing them down until all that remains between them is respect and trust and endless love.

~~~~

#csnlny #forget what I said #cs ff #captain swan fanfic #cs smut #captain swan smut #once upon a time fanfic #ouat ff #ouat smut

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shysneeze · 4 years

Text

persuasion (part two)

George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Description: on their weekly afternoon tea, a letter arrives that forces reader to reveal a recent event to her mother and further revisit the past.

Warning: angst, the most angst i’ve ever written. mentions of alcohol. again, quite au in the sense the lucius is in jail

author’s note : I don’t know how i feel about this, it feels confusing but i’m not sure how else to write it. Any feedback is still greatly appreciated. I was overwhelmed by the response for part one so I can only hope this part doesn’t dissappoint.

Tag List: @andineversawyoucoming @theweirdsideofstuff @the-grey-lady13 @peanutem @paigeyisme @wolfiepirate @sir-lili

series masterlist

.~.~.

The manor’s empty halls and high ceilings make the small click from (Y/N)’s shoes echo loudly as she walks towards the parlour. The only other noise is sound of the curtains cracking like whips in the wind She shuts each wide-open window with a disapproving click of her tongue as she passes.

“It’s below freezing outside.” She sighs loudly. “Can I ask again why the windows must always be open?”

Her question announces her arrival as she enters the parlour. From her spot on one of the sofa’s, (Y/N)’s mother is already rolling her eyes at her daughter and sipping at her tea, as if this is a usual occurrence, which of course, it is.

“Hello to you too, Dear.” Narcissa hums into her teacup. “And I want some fresh air is all.”

“Hello, Mother.” (Y/N) corrects herself, leaning down to kiss her mother’s cheeks and taking a seat across from her. “However, you do have a very large garden for fresh air.”

Narcissa Malfoy could easily challenge (Y/N)’s status as the Malfoy family recluse. Despite being released from house arrest almost a year ago, (Y/N) can count the amount of times her mother has left the dreary manor on one hand.

“You said it yourself, Dear.” Narcissa reminds. “It’s below freezing outside.”

“I wish you’d get out of here more.” (Y/N) sighs. “I’d hate to be stuck in this house all the time.”

“I can take care of myself, (Y/N).” Narcissa states. “In fact, I recall several years where I took care of you and your brother too.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opens to tell her there is no need for the sass when the creak of the door announces the second arrival of the day. It’s no surprise to either of the woman to find it’s Draco stood in the doorway, the only missing member of this week’s Sunday afternoon tea.

“She’s not on about the windows already, is she?”

He smirks at her as he makes his way further into the room and (Y/N) can only roll her eyes and try to ignore the smug smile that climbs their mother’s cheeks at his question. He mimics her arrival in kissing their mother’s cheek then joins (Y/N), a smugness around him that has her wanting to dig her heel into his toes. He never ceases to bring out the immaturity in her.

“I give it ten minutes until you’re cold.” She mumbles childishly.

“I’ll still have lasted longer than you have without complaining.” He replies with another signature smirk.

“Every week…” Narcissa sighs. “You argue like children.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with us if we started being nice to each other.”

Narcissa’s head tilts as she gives her daughter a pointed look, a warning glance, one perfected from years of family dinners where (Y/N) verged too close to crossing the line of suitable conversation to have around her father. (Y/N) bites her lip to hide her smirk at her mother’s expression and focusses herself on making her brother and herself a cup of tea while Narcissa quizzes Draco on his week.

“So how is the ministry?”

(Y/N) tunes out, she can’t imagine the ministry to have ever been particularly riveting and she knows that when it is her turn to summarise her week, Draco isn’t likely to be interested in her shop keeping tales. Instead, she stares down at her lap and twirls her fingers nervously while she considers the pros and cons of telling her mother about her night out with Fleur from two weeks pervious.

The pros are alluring in the sense that at least her mother will know all the background information she needs to understand how horrible it had been; however, the cons heavily outweigh that. The Weasley’s, or more particularly, George Weasley, has been a taboo subject under the roof of Malfoy Manor since the secret romance had been discovered all those years back.

Lucius Malfoy had caught his daughter sneaking out of Weasley Wizard Wheezes in the early hours of the morning in the same clothes she’d left the Manor in the night before. He put the pieces together quick enough.

“Where were you?” Lucius demanded when she returned.

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) shrugged. “I told you I was at a friend’s.”

“Who?”

“Alexandra’s.” She stated confidently under his scrutinizing eyes.

She jumped when his cane cracked against the floorboards though, and her father’s expression turned furious. She subconsciously backed against a wall as he moved closer, hooked end of his pompous looking cane rested intimidatingly against the wall right by her ear.

“Don’t lie to me.”

She can still remember the raspy edge to his voice that gave her chills. Full scale war had then promptly broken out after and it had seen the end of a relationship she’d been willing to run away from home for barely two hours before.

“What about you, (Y/N)?” Her mother asks suddenly, dragging her the scenes of her past. “How has your week been- and the week before since you cancelled on us last Sunday?”

“Oh, it was okay.” She explains. “I’m sorry about last weekend, I think it was something I ate.”

“That’s code for hungover.” Draco coughs, causing (Y/N) to dig her elbow into his chest. “Ouch!”

“I wasn’t hungover!” She exclaims unconvincingly.

In a way, she’s glad Draco has made up this wonderful, embarrassing excuse that she won’t be asked any further questions on. It’s even better than her ‘something-I-ate’ excuse and she only wishes it was her own idea. She’s much more willing to listen to a long-winded speech on drinking responsibly than whatever her Mother would come up with for meeting up with George Weasley again.

“You’re an adult, Dear.” Narcissa assures. “It’s you that has to deal with the consequences of drinking, not me.”

“Thanks.” She mumbles.

“Although I hope you aren’t just drinking alone in your apartment.” Her mother adds sadly, destroying (Y/N)’s hope of the subject being left unquestioned. “You’re worth more than that, Dear.”

“I wasn’t.” (Y/N) assures with a kind smile. “I promise.”

One of her mother’s carefully plucked brows twitches curiously but (Y/N) has already turned her attention back to sipping at her tea and avoiding eye contact. The older woman across from her lets out an almost inaudible, disappointed sigh that has a twang of guilt hurtling straight to (Y/N)’s chest. She almost opens her mouth to expand when she’s interrupted by a flapping sound from the window.

The beautiful brown owl glides into the parlour with an elegance that, even if (Y/N) didn’t already know it as Fleur’s, identifies it as her best friend’s. It lands gracefully on the edge of the coffee table and gently bows to drop the letter on before her. (Y/N) begins to check her pockets for a treat for the dutiful bird.

The bird takes the treat gently and willingly accepts (Y/N)’s arm as a lift back towards the window to make its flight from the room easier. Once it’s flown away again, she turns back to face her family, both mother and brother perched on the edge of their seats to peer nosily at the letter.

“Subtle.” (Y/N) comments as she takes her seat again, snatching the letter up.

“I’m just curious as to who it’s from.” Narcissa assures. “It was a beautiful bird.”

“It’s Fleur’s.” She admits somewhat nervously.

It’s not that her family is unaware of her friendship with the French woman, but more so to do with who she’s married to. Her surname, although never mentioned aloud to her mother, always causes something between curiosity and concern to flash across the older woman’s face. This time, the look is fleeting and Narcissa tries to look uninterested, a ploy to make (Y/N) feel less uncomfortable opening it now, in her presence.

(Y/N) opens it with a sigh, already seeing through her mother’s act. She skims the contents quickly in a bid to hide them from her brother’s eyes from beside her. She can see him frowning out the corner of her eye though, already just as confused as she is.

“The Burrow?” He wonders aloud.

(Y/N) gulps avoiding her mother’s curious eyes. Less than two years ago, when (Y/N) first befriended Fleur, she’d assured her genuinely concerned mother that she wasn’t in touch with the Weasley’s again and that she wouldn’t get herself hurt. Following Draco’s revelation, their mother is exceedingly confused.

“Fleur has invited me to a family quidditch match.” (Y/N) explains quietly. “At the Burrow.”

“With the Weasley’s?” Draco asks in slight astonishment.

“It seems that way.” (Y/N) confirms. “The others- Harry and Hermione, are likely to be there too.”

“Are you going to go?” Draco asks, not attempting to hide his amazement. “You don’t play Quidditch.”

“I can probably just spectate.” She shrugs, sheepish under their gaze. “I should go.”

“I never realised you were speaking to the Weasley’s again.” Her mother admits, a strange calm to her voice.

“Again?” Draco frowns.

(Y/N) ignores him and tries to come up with a response to this question that will approach the subject delicately. She folds the parchment carefully and tucks it into her pocket with a hand that’s suddenly shaky.

“Fleur and I went to the Leaky last week and bumped into the twins.” She explains eventually, voice low and secretive in a way that confuses Draco even more. “There were no other seats.”

Narcissa takes a moment to take this in and process it, only managing to come up with an ‘oh’ in response. She feels like she’s been flung back in time, her heart acing again with concern for her daughter’s fragile heart. Two years isn’t long enough to get over that sort of heart ache.

“That must have been hard, Dear.”

(Y/N) flinches as the softness of her mother’s voice, the concern laced through every word. She’s not sure why she’s so surprised, her mother has always been the more lenient on the subject, even back when it first came to light. She was the eye of the storm in the manor that evening, a gentle middle ground in what is the worst fight (Y/N) and Lucius have ever had.

“You can’t leave, Dear.” Narcissa sighed from the doorway of her daughter’s room as she flung clothes into her trunk aggressively. “Not now.”

“Yes, I can.” (Y/N) grunted, although her arms shook as she shoved another jumper in her trunk. “He can’t tell me who I get to be in a relationship with.”

“(Y/N), we’re about to go to war.”

“I know that!” She snapped with a voice cracked with raw emotion. “I don’t want to be on this side!”

“I know…” Her mother sighed as she stepped into the room and took a seat on the bed. “But If you care for him, you have to know that he’ll be safer without you by his side.”

(Y/N) stilled as she considered this, it sunk in slowly, then all to quickly. She dropped onto her mattress beside her mother and began to sob. Narcissa’s heart broke as she pulled her daughter’s head onto her lap and stroked at her hair soothingly.

“You’re right.” She bubbled. “Why do you have to be right?”

“It was.” (Y/N) admits quietly in the present. “It was horrible.”

“Then why subject yourself to it any further?”

“Fleur is my best- my only friend and I can’t keep letting her down.” (Y/N) explains. “ She’s going to get annoyed at my excuses eventually and I can’t lose her as a friend, Mother.”

She’s already convinced herself. She promised Fleur she would try more and if quidditch at the Burrow is what that means, then (Y/N) is going to be there and she’s going to deal with the tension whether she likes it or not.

“(Y/N)- “

“I’m going.” (Y/N) states strongly, conversation over. “Anyway, Draco, how’s that cold?”

“Oh, I see.” Draco quips bitterly. “I’m allowed to be part of the conversation now that you want to change the subject.”

“Not if you’re going to be stubborn.” (Y/N) huffs. “Mother, how is your reading list coming along?”

Narcissa chooses to take the bait, anything to diffuse the tension that has settled, thick and suffocating. She gives her daughter a knowing look, one that makes (Y/N) squirm and avert her own eyes, then begins to summarise one of her recent reads. It takes a minute for the flow of conversation to return but eventually it does and (Y/N) can only hope the entire thing is forgotten about, no matter how delusional her optimism.

.~.~.

The sun is beginning to set when (Y/N) sets out on her way to leave. As has become their weekly tradition, the three of them stand on the doorstep of the manor and exchange last minute pleasantries. Draco is first to leave, his farewell curt and slightly sour from being denied the knowledge of his sister’s Weasley-related secret.

(Y/N), however, lingers a little longer on the doorstep as her mother gives her a long look that has (Y/N) sighing, shoulders slumping in surrender as she walks into her mother’s open arms. There is something tragically familiar to how she rubs (Y/N)’s back, a memory she’s tried to supress from that evening two years ago.

“Just be careful, Dear.” Narcissa says softly in her daughter’s ear. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

“I won’t.” She assures. “I’ve got thick skin.”

Pulling apart, Narcissa runs her hand lovingly down (Y/N)’s cheek and smiles with a small nod of agreement. She knows this, if their surname has done anything for her children, it is give them tough skin. Yet, her concern doesn’t ease just like that, a parent’s never would.

“I know, Dear.” She smiles.

“Can you try and get out more though? I worry about you alone in this house without… without Father.”

“You must really be worried to mention him.” Narcissa frowns, resting her hand soothingly on (Y/N)’s arm.

“I just reckon even his company would be better than none for you.”

She knows that as much as her father and her have their differences, the two years without him have been tough on her mother, that much is clear to (Y/N). She herself hasn’t spoken to Lucius Malfoy since the first Christmas he spent in prison. Visiting hour lasted ten minutes before they’d gotten into a screaming match and (Y/N) had left and vowed never to come back.

“You’re sweet to worry, but I’m okay, Dear.” Narcissa promises. “I get to see you ever weekend.”

“Well, you can visit me sometime.” (Y/N) decides. “Come see me at the shop.”

“That sounds like a plan, Dear.” Narcissa nods. “Now, off you go before you freeze out here.”

“See you next week.” (Y/N) grins. “I’ll try not to be ‘hungover’ next time.”

“I’d hope not!” Narcissa teases.

(Y/N) pulls her in for another hug, suddenly overwhelmed by a love for her mother, her unjudging and ever reassuring mother. She holds on for longer, unwilling to let go this week, unwilling to return to the reality of her life, of the rumours in bars and dirty looks from strangers. She wants to feel safe in her mother’s arms again for as long as she can.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you too, Dear.”

(Y/N) finally gathers the strength to pull apart and make her way down the long path to the apparation point with a final wave to the woman on the doorstep. Once back in her apartment, the urge to cry finds her, helpless and vulnerable. Ever since the unexpected and uninvited reunion with George Weasley at the Leaky Cauldron, she’s beginning to feel like she’s living in the past, and it’s all-consumingly painful.

#george weasley persuasion #george weasley x malfoy!reader #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter #fred weasley #draco malfoy #malfoy family #weasley twins #fanfiction #imagines #reader insert #malfoy reader #st x readers

192 notes · View notes

raevenlywrites · 3 years

Text

The Ties That Bind 20 of ???

As much as I simply wanted to sleep, even my extreme exhaustion wasn’t enough to supersede good manners. I would at the very least catch Zane’s eye as he danced, alert him to my presence--that was good manners, right? I couldn’t think. My head was fogged with the need to sleep, and my thoughts tumbled like so many leaves in the wind.

The crowd parted easily before me and Rei, avians falling back in respect and serpents... well, I didn’t know why the serpents moved before me. Maybe something of that emotional extra sense informed them. I didn’t care. I just wanted to wave at Zane on my way to bed.

Of course, once he saw me, he immediately broke from the dance, another serpiente falling seamlessly into his place. I marveled at the smoothness of it, how not a single beat was missed. If Zane had signaled the change in any way, I had not seen it. Then again, in my fatigued state, I’m sure I missed much.

I took a deep breath, drawing myself up as Zane approached, and felt Rei flinch beside him. Was it the Arami’s approach, or a reaction to my donning my emotional armour? Yet another thing I was too tired for.

“Danica!”

Zane greeted me warmly, face bright and shining from the dance. He was flushed, but it only highlighted the sharpness of his cheeks, the fullness of his lips. He looked right this way, lightly kissed with sweat and firelight, and a smattering of scales.

It startled me to realize I found this form beautiful. Not that I found Zane beautiful--his elegance and regalness were almost a given, at this point--but that I thought the scales suited him, perfected a face that was already so close to perfect... They offset his garnet eyes, made their startling redness seem more at home.

Then he smiled, and the length of his cobra’s fangs ruined the effect. He’d gone from ethereal to infernal in an instant, the flames now a horrifying backdrop to the warrior’s form. This was the shape he wore to kill.

I swooned, the heat and the fangs and the late hour all coming together to be too much. I felt Rei’s arm around me, as the world slid to black.

- Two faces loomed over me as I came to, my avian heritage funneling oxygen to my brain with merciless efficiency. What helped me maintain hours of flight at high altitudes would not allow me the blessed reprieve of unconsciousness now. No, my body had failed me only enough for an embarrassing incident. I sighed and sat up, not even feeling lightly dizzy. It was grossly unfair.

“Sorry to have alarmed you, gentlemen.” I did my best to keep the sigh from my voice. “Clearly I’m pushing too hard.”

“That makes two of us.”

Zane had returned to his purely human form, the only trace of his cobra heritage remaining was the everpresent garnet of his eyes. I still thought them beautiful, but I didn’t think I’d ever forget that smile, the mouth crowded with fangs. How had he kept from piercing his own lip?

Rei offered me a skin of water, which I sipped automatically to appease him. My dear friend could be such a hoverhawk. It was always easiest to just let him take care of me. It gave him something to do, if nothing else.

“If you’re able,” he said gently, “I’d recommend the three of us exit this crowd quickly.”

My eyes flicked past his shoulders. Somehow, I’d forgotten that I’d passed out in front of a crowd of mixed serpiente and avians alike. Better and better.

“Or,” Zane interjected, light tone at odds with the severity of the situation, “you might stay out here a moment longer, and enjoy the dance.” Rei growled, low and barely audible over the murmur of the crowd. Either way, the longer I sat here--flat on my rear in the dirt--the larger a scene it would cause. I nodded grimly to Rei.

“Help me up. We’ll go from there.”

To my surprise, Rei and Zane both looped arms under my shoulders, making me feel like a complete invalid. That alone steeled my resolve, making me chase them away with discretely fluttering hands. I stepped away from the both, turning to face them.

“I’m fine. Just too many days of not enough rest. We should all be getting to bed.”

The roaring crowd around me didn’t show any signs of slowing, let alone sleeping. What had I been thinking, coming out here?

I’d been thinking I’d wanted Rei. And that I’d wanted away from my court.

This was a disaster. I couldn’t do this. I was too tired, too small, too unprepared. This gathering of people, dancing and singing in the woods, had come together without me. And because of me, it now sat poised, ready to collapse into a riot.

All because I’d stumbled.

I was angry, frustrated, and oh so tired--

And then Zane reached out, smiling, not a fang in sight.

“Dance with me.”

“I-- what?”

His smiled broadened, and I felt utterly disarmed by it’s simple charm.

“Dance with me. One dance, to prove you’re alright. To let the day go. There’s a magic in the serpent’s step. Trust me.”

Trust me.

Well, that was the point of all this, wasn’t it?

Zane had trusted me enough to meet me at the Mistari camps, to ride to my Keep, to have Elanor fly his ridiculous ass up to my bedroom. To walk into the heart of my kingdom, with only a relatively small vanguard at his back. Zane trusted me with all that, and all he asked in return was a simple dance, to help reassure the crowd.

Surely I could do at least that much.

I took his hand, offering a smile that held all my fear, all my exhaustion, and all my fondness. This mad cobra’s dreams were infectious, and already, I found myself believing in him. I could easily see why his people would follow him into the heart of my kingdom. If I were allowed to, I think I would follow him, too.

I could at least follow him now, out into the ring of dancers.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered. My mouth felt like a rictus grin rather than a smile. I felt my teeth threatening to crack under the pressure of my grit jaw.

“I do.”

He raised our hands, palm to palm, and with a start I realized it was a dance I knew. It was one of the few avian dances that allowed for touching, where most of our celebrations were more processions of segregated movements in stately lines. I didn’t have time to question how he’d learned any avian dance, or wonder if this was another small thing shared by our cultures, before the first notes of song rose up over the crowd.

Raymond was singing.

Other avians immediately joined, the song well-loved and well familiar. The Wind and The Wing--and the dance that went with it--was lilting and joyous, with words and movements so simple even children could join in. It could be layered with elegant harmonies and counter melodies, but the dance was always the same. Palm to palm, turn a circle, switch hands. At a faster pace, it became a whirling dervish, a wild, swirling thing, with partners switched and tossed and buffeted about as if by the wind. Under the direction of Raymond’s clear voice, it was slower, but still too fast to overthink it.

Zane grinned, hands clapping the beats between the switch, eyes absolutely sparkling in delight. He was so pleased with himself to be able to surprise me like this, and again, his enthusiasm was catching. I shook my head and laughed and clapped, and gave myself over to the dance.

Circles moved around us, dancers joining in where they new, serpiente picking up on the simple steps quickly. More surprising was the voices their raised to join our avian singers. The melody was simple, but still. I hadn’t expected--well, any of this. But Zane had been right. This crowd was ready to dance, ready to follow where their monarchs led.

Where we led.

I held tight to Zane’s hand as he spun me, gripping his fist as his speed and strength whipped me around his still center point. That was a serpiente move, a small twist on our traditional step. It thrilled me, dizzied me, took my breath away--

And then he released me, and for a breathless moment I was falling, falling--

And then Rei’s arms were around mine, a new Wind catching my Wings. He carried my momentum around, turning me to face him, holding his hand up, palm out, waiting for me to touch.

With a smile so large I felt I must be glowing, I pressed my hand to his.

And we danced.

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire @thehellinsideyourhead @adventuresofacreesty

#raev does fanfic #hawksong fanfic #the ties that bind fic #hawksong #danica shardae #my writing

26 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

happy birthday | pietro m. | mature.

Notes:

Look ya’ll... I have zero shame for this. Z E R O. I wanted to read this, I couldn’t find anything I hadn’t already read similar for Pietro, (( Either Pietro you wish to imagine here tbh because honestly, they’re both lovely dudes )) so I am simply writing the filth I want to read in bed later... And dragging you lot straight to the naughty corner with me.

Also, this is totally unbeta’d. Because we fly by the straps of our bra in this house. Any errors, wonky positioning, lack of condom or anything else you find is purely on me and I own it.

Prompts used:

Ah, none. Although, birthday sex could totally be one, I suppose.

Pairing:

Pietro Maximoff x Barton!OFC, Nicola, whomst I’ve used previously with him...

Fandom :

Marvel Cinematic / X - Men (if you’re gonna visualize Evan’s version or whatever)

Warnings:

Straight up sexual content and unprotected at that. No minors allowed. That means all you lovelies out there under the age of 18+ need to go elsewhere. Keep scrolling because this is absolutely NOT for you.

Tagging:

@micolegg -because our discussion earlier kind of maybe... inspired this.

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

[ faq | tag list doc ]

Happy Birthday,

“Damn it, all I want to do is sleep. But noooo.. Can’t even get him out of my head long enough to do that, apparently.” I grumbled to myself as I threw my plaid comforter off and slipped out of bed. Grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it on only to scowl at my reflection in the mirror on my bedroom door when I realized that I’d done it again. I’d gotten the laundry mixed up.

The shirt I was wearing?

The olive green one Pietro Maximoff wore for training at the compound most of the time.

,, He’s not awake. It’s not like he’s going to see you in it.” I reminded myself just as I went to tug it over my head. ,,Besides, I thought further, it’s soft and comfy.”

We’re not even getting into the fact that despite the washing, it somehow still kind of smells like him. Or that I even think Pietro Maximoff smells good enough to eat to begin with.

The line of thought made my stomach growl and I remembered that there was still some of mine and Lila’s birthday cake down in the fridge.

,, And you still have a little tequila too.. Maybe a few sips will put you out. At very least, your brain will be all fuzzy and warm and you won’t be constantly thinking about him. And the way all he has to do is look at you a certain way and you turn into an actual mess.” the thought spurred me into action and I stepped out into the hallway, tiptoeing quietly down the stairs. Then into the kitchen.

Knowing my dad was on a mission and my mom and siblings are notoriously heavy sleepers, I chanced it with turning on my phone and going to my Spotify app, finding a Billy Idol song and hitting play after lowering the volume.

I danced around the kitchen, first scaling the counter and reaching up into the high cabinet I’d put my bottle of tequila in earlier after I’d been gifted it. Then I stepped over to the fridge and opened it, leaning in.

Still shaking my hips to the song, humming along quietly. Giggling, because I haven’t snuck downstairs for a midnight snack since I was at least my sister Lila’s age. I dug around in the silverware drawer until I found a fork and my mom’s corkscrew that she uses on her wine so I could pull the cork out of the fancy bottle of tequila.

Billy Idol gave way to Def Leppard just as I managed to get the bottle open. I raised it to my lips, taking a few sips. Nearly spitting it onto the floor. It burned. It burned so bad as it rolled down my throat and settled into a lazy heat in the pit of my stomach. I wiped my mouth and held out the bottle, raising a brow at it. “Thor wasn’t lying when he said it was ‘the best alcohol.’ earlier.” I muttered mostly to myself, sitting the bottle down.

Now to get the plastic lid from hell off the sheet cake. I bit my lip and tried to carefully pry it free, but that wasn’t happening. The lid crackled and the sound seemed to echo like a stereo on blast.

“Shit.fuck.” I grumbled, trying to grab it better and pull at it again. I flipped off the lid when I thought I heard a door opening upstairs. Raising the bottle of tequila to my mouth again, I took another long sip.

It burned slightly less. But I could feel my ears starting to get warm. And I giggled a little. This time, when I tried to get the lid off the sheet cake, it came away. Not quietly, but it was out of my way at last. I sprang up onto the countertop and crossed my legs, sitting the cake next to me. Reaching for the discarded plastic tiara that Lila had been wearing earlier when we blew out the candles. Sitting it on my head and pouting when it tried to slide off again. Giggling a little louder than I should’ve at the whole thing.

I spread a bite of the cake with my fork and just as I raised the fork to my lips and was about to take the bite, the kitchen was flooded with light. And for some reason, this only made me giggle and nearly drop the fork when I went to shield my eyes from the brightness.

I managed to avoid it, recovering nicely and slipping the fork between my lips. My eyes settled on the doorway, fixing on Pietro and the way he leaned in the frame, sleepily. Staring right back at me.

Go Fuck Yourself started to play and I wanted to melt into the kitchen tiles. As if there wasn’t enough lingering tension already between us. And then I remembered. I was sitting here, right in front of him… wearing one of his shirts. And not much else.

,, he won’t see me in his shirt, I said. It’s cozy and I refuse to change just to go sneak some birthday cake and a few shots of tequila, I said. Clearly, I’m an idiot.” I thought to myself as he stepped completely into the kitchen. Slipping the pocket door closed behind him and leaning against it, an amused smirk as his eyes roamed over me slowly.

Deliberately.

He rubbed his hand over the back of his head and whether I wanted to or not, my eyes followed the movement of his hand, settling briefly on a muscular arm as the movement made it flex just slightly.

I stabbed the fork into my half of the cake again, raising the fork to my lips after speared a piece of the cake. I shifted around on the counter a little, letting both of my legs dangle over the edge, wiggling my feet. Antsy, but with no real reason as to why.

Neither of us was saying anything but we were both staring at each other. Intently. And that lingering tension between us? Settled in all over again; thicker somehow.

,, well, I did walk in on him after he showered earlier and promptly froze in place gawking at the poor guy… and he did nearly walk in on me changing the night before… then there’s all the little accidental touches. The flirty and snide way he says things sometimes. And that accent, dear god..” my mind was more than happy to remind me exactly why there was so much tension between Pietro and I lately, it seemed.

Before I could bat a lash, Pietro stood in front of me. Stepping closer so that he stood between my legs, a hand resting palm down on the counter on either side of them. Neither of us had spoken a word yet.

I felt my breath catching in my throat.

He eyed the tequila bottle sitting to my side, completely forgotten in favor of the cake next to it for the time being. For some reason, I started giggling and I couldn’t stop. And despite all efforts, it wasn’t quiet, either.

Kissable lips curved upward in an amused sort of smirk.

“You’re up late.” I muttered as my giggle fit died away and all I could do was gaze up at him, curious.

“And so are you, kotyonok.” Pietro stated, shrugging it off. His eyes left mine, settling on my lips. I barely managed to catch myself before I whimpered at his little lapse into his mother tongue. “You always call me that. What does it mean?”

“Kitten.” he answered with hints of that cocky smirk, shrugging as he said it and met my gaze all over again. His thumb rolled over my lower lip, coming away with pink frosting. When he licked his thumb and held my gaze while doing it, I gulped. Nearly choked on the bite of cake I’d just taken. His hand raised and he reached for the tiara sitting crooked on my hair, straightening it.

“So greedy, kotyonok.” he teased, chuckling quietly. I managed to mumble in response, “It’s a pretty damn good cake.” as I leaned in just a little closer. Cautiously.

There was a bruise on his jaw from his sparring session at the compound earlier. My fingertips grazed against it and before I could pull my hand away, his hand raised, fingers circling my wrist. Holding it there. Sort of nuzzling a stubbled cheek against the palm of my hand.

If I thought the air was thick before, I was wrong. It was so thick right now I could barely breathe, let alone think straight. He released his grip on my wrist and I dug the fork into my cake again, raising the fork to his lips. His mouth closed around the fork and as he took the bite and then licked frosting off his lips, despite all my best efforts, my eyes were absolutely glued to his lips and the way his tongue rolled across them slowly. When he groaned at the sugary sweet taste of the birthday cake, I whimpered before I could stop myself.

He studied me intently.

I reached out for the bottle of tequila sitting near me, taking another long sip. Grimacing at the contrast between sweet and bitter and the way the liquid burned it’s way down my throat all over again.

My legs brushed his sides and he tensed slightly. Didn’t drop my gaze or anything, he just tensed up. My heart was racing a little, there seemed to be this anticipation building up in me. Like something was about to happen. I just didn’t know what it would be, exactly.

“ I wanted to be here. Earlier. For your birthday party.” he mumbled as he leaned in closer. Almost putting my body completely against his own. I managed a smile and gazed up at him, my head tilted slowly. His hands left the counter top and settled on my bare thighs. Skimming over them as he held my gaze.

“It’s okay. I get it. Training.” I wondered what he was up to. But if I stopped to think about it, he was always more… Affectionate. Touchier towards me. I always get the sense that the little ‘accidental’ touches and the few times we lock eyes in a room together that it’s never exactly accidental. That he’s flirting with me. And I was warned by his twin sister Wanda that he could be a flirt for the most part, so I never really thought much about it beyond the way it seemed to frustrate me because it only made me want him more.

“ It is probably better I wasn’t on time. Now I can do this...” Pietro mused quietly. Biting his lip as bright blue eyes settled on my lips all over again. And he leaned in more. Closing the distance between our mouths just a little bit more when he did so. So close that when I licked my lips my tongue brushed right against his mouth.

And something in him snapped. One of his hands left my thigh and settled across the back of my neck. Pulling my mouth against his mouth. His tongue slipped past my lips. Tangled with mine. My legs wrapped around his waist and I melted against him completely. The kiss deepened and Pietro was scooting me closer so that I was clinging to him a little more than I was actually sitting on the counter, his hands skimming over my sides, groping my body and making me whimper quietly, the sound swallowed by the kiss.

I was starting to get light headed. We pulled away to breathe and he chuckled quietly. “If this were Sokovia, kotyonok.. I would’ve stolen you a gift.”

“Hm?” I gazed at him. Still a little dazed that he’d kissed me like that. Wanting to do it again so badly I could taste it. Before I could stop myself, I was hooking my fingers into his belt loop. Using the connection to pull him close all over again. The end result was him scooping me off the counter. Carrying me up the stairs as I rested my face against his neck, giggling quietly.

He pushed open the door to my bedroom and stepped inside, over to my bed. Dropping me gently onto the bed and turning to lock the door behind him. Tugging the tank top he’d been wearing over his head and letting it settle on my bedroom floor. I barely managed to keep myself from whimpering out loud. He came to a stop beside my bed and I sat up, raising my hands. Hooking my fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants in an attempt to pull them down only to have him shake his head no at me and gently push me flat against the mattress all over again.

He let his sweats pool around his ankles and my eyes settled on his cock and the way it stood at attention.

I swallowed hard, my eyes widening as they met his. He settled on the bed with his body between my legs. His hands raised, taking hold of mine as his mouth crashed against my lips all over again and his tongue found mine, tangling with it. Taking complete control of the kiss as it deepened to a point where I felt myself getting light headed all over again. One of his hands let go of one of mine and made it’s way down my body. The kiss broke and as we were catching our breath he muttered lazily against my skin, “ Stop me. If you don’t want to do this, stop me.”

I was absolutely not about to stop him. The thought hadn’t even been entertained. Not as bad as I wanted him. I gripped his jaw, pulling his mouth against mine all over again. “No. I won’t. Because I want you. Please don’t stop.”

His hands skimmed down my sides, fingertips catching in the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing, working it up over my body. Tossing it on the floor of my bedroom with the growing pile of clothes. His fingers caught on the sides of my panties, tearing them out of the way. Tossing them down onto the floor also. I licked my lips as I stared up at him. My gaze lowering when his hand left my hip and disappeared between our bodies, circling his length. Guiding it over my dripping folds and making me whimper quietly as a shiver raced through my body. He met my gaze, that cocky smirk playing at his lips as he teased at entry, making me shiver all over again, fighting to keep from whimpering out loud. His finger rested against my lips and he leaned down a little, muttering softly, “Shh. We don’t want to wake anyone.” as he buried inch for inch inside of me slowly. Going still when I tensed up a little, letting me adjust to his size. His lips burying in mine when I tried to rock my hips against him to get him moving again. His hands gripped my hips, pumping me up and down on his cock, making me arch away from the bed and try to cling to him, greedily pulling his mouth against mine all over again. Nipping at his lips as I met his deep and slow thrusts frantically. Trying to get him to speed up just a little as my orgasm started to build.

The soft creaks of the bed had us stopping, listening to make sure it wasn’t loud or obvious, laughing quietly against each other’s skin. He feathered little kisses against my neck and throat and my fingers dug into his shoulders as I gazed up at him and whispered softly, “I think we’re good. My mom and siblings could sleep through a level 5 hurricane.” After a second or two of him continuing to listen just to be sure, he started to fuck into me slowly all over again. His hips smacking softly against mine and the bed beneath us creaking softly.

“Oh. oh yeah.” my head fell back as his cock pistoned in and out, striking right against my spot, “Faster.”

“Not tonight, kitten. Slow.” his mouth crashed against mine, swallowing up my pleas and whimpers and his hands slipped down, gripping my hips tightly so that he controlled the speed. My toes curled into my sheets, trying anything to get just a little more leverage and I wrapped my arms around his neck, my nails dragging up and down his back. I could feel my stomach tensing up. I was getting closer, dangerously so. All I wanted to do was cum but just like every other time before, Pietro seemed to pick up on the exact second I got just a little too close and he went still. Kissing me all over and muttering things against my skin in his native tongue. Rolling his tongue over my skin. Tracing the outline of my lips until I was lowering my hands and pulling his mouth against mine because I just couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

He started to fuck me into the mattresses all over again. Slow and steady. Reaching up at one point to grab my headboard and keep it from banging any louder against the wall. His hips snapping against mine at an almost bruising steady pace. Bottoming out and as he did so, having to bury his mouth in mine just to keep me from moaning louder. Chuckling as the kiss broke to mutter against my mouth softly, “We have to stay quiet, kotyonok.”

The look in his eyes and the smirk on his face told another tale entirely. He was relishing every single moan and whimper. He’d love it if I could scream.

I’d love it if I could scream.

I melted against him, shaking and clinging as I tried to keep myself from getting off. Dangerously close, poised right at the brink. His hips met mine erratically and he whispered against my neck “So close.”

“Let go, Pietro. Please? I..” my words fell away as bliss took over. His hands gripped my hips, guiding them against his as he started to pick up speed. Teeth nipping at my neck. Leaving small marks, but marks that I knew I’d barely be able to hide in the morning. The thought already had me smiling.

“You what?” he questioned, gazing down at me. Biting his lips as his eyes met mine and he bottomed out all over again, his cock drilling into my spot and making me nip at his neck and leave a mark of my own behind just to keep from screaming his name and waking up everyone in the house.

When I finally managed to get it out, “I wanna feel you.” he licked his lips as his eyes met mine. A soft smirk. He nodded. His hands squeezed my hip harder, pumping me up and down on his cock as my nails dragged down his back and my legs wrapped tight around his waist, squeezing as my orgasm ripped through me, making me clench tight around his cock, flooding it. It pushed him right over the edge and his thrusts sped. They got harder. I could feel him tensing up as he slammed into me and fucked me through my own orgasm, his cock throbbing. Filling me up as his thrusts slowed all over again and he pressed himself against me, crashing his mouth against mine. Our foreheads rested against each other, and as we tried to catch our breath and come down from the high, he collapsed into the bed beside me, pulling me so that I was draped over him. His arms going around me, his fingers dancing over my bare skin as he gazed up at me.

“Happy birthday, kotyonok.”

I smiled at him, nuzzling my nose against his nose. Cuddling against him as I let out a long and content sigh, totally relaxed.

I was definitely not going to have any trouble falling asleep now...

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