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choirstaidhiona · 9 months

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This Barbie Cries In Public, or I Wish I Could Show My Mum The Barbie Movie

Like everyone else in the world, I recently saw the Barbie Movie! I also saw Oppenheimer, in the cursed double bill of the century, and it's taken me days to process both of them and all the BigFeelingsTM That have come up from both, so in my first actual considered and proper blog post on this website since I was the world's angriest teenager, I'll be sharing them, alongside some thoughts about grief and gender and all that really fun and not miserable at all stuff.

Part 1. Barbie Girl

I was born in 1996, a weirdly large baby constantly dressed in pink and lace and frills, as my mum would say, "a proper girl". I loved dolls; baby dolls, Barbie dolls, Bratz dolls, doll house dolls, paper garland dolls I made whenever i had a sheet of printer paper handy for years of my life, Polly Pockets, those weird off-brand dolls you'd get in corner shops and chemists for some reason, all of them. I loved dolls. I still love dolls. I made a film last year where i painted dolls and animated them and it was sad and about childhood and death and memory. I used to film my Barbie Princess and The Pauper dolls singing together and I made a music video of it on my Karaoke machine, rigged up to my pink TV. I was, in short, A Barbie Girl.

When Bratz appeared in the supermarkets of Greenock, I remember the shift happening really clearly. I was in Primary 5 or 6 and my Grandad had died, Baby's First Big Death, and I drew everyone pictures of the outfits I'd dreamed up for my Bratz dolls, transfixed by their big mouths and big eyes and the way their clothes sat on their bodies. Drawing pictures for people made them happy. Drawing pictures for people made them tell me I was clever. Drawing pictures for people gave me a task and gave me a focus. I loved Bratz dolls because Barbie was too boring. I was getting too old for fairies and princesses (note: I have since regressed), Mattel's fixation of the era, since Barbie had already been a Doctor and a President long before I met her, and I didn't know she had all these cool talents and past careers. To me, she was part of a personal era I was moving on from. Bratz dolls didn't have jobs, they were like Ken from the Barbie movie, but their job wasn't Beach, it was Gorgeous. I don't think it's a coincidence that this was the era I'd been told specifically that there was something wrong with me by other girls for the first time.

I grew up in Gàidhlig Medium Education, a sectioned-off and sheltered part of the Scottish Education System that I owe my life to, I would not have survived, weirdness and spirit intact, in any other school, and I know that for a fact. I'd entered GME at 2 and 10 months old and left school at 18, having only known classrooms where everyone was a bit different because we belonged to this sort of movement of cultural reclamation. My only prolonged interactions with "The English" (the rest of our classmates from the English speaking part of our primary school, the ones not in the Gaelic unit) came at the end of primary school, when we started learning French together as a whole year group. It's not an exaggeration to say that GME kids were bullied appallingly by "The English", including a lot of the old-school teachers. I'll go into this properly another time, but I do think that I saw in Bratz the kind of aspirational teenhood I hoped would be beyond my late primary school experience of being othered- being edgy, wearing cool outfits, having boobs, and most of all, working at gorgeous.

Part 2. Oppenheimer Teen

Think of the most catastrophically annoying and angry kid you knew growing up, that was me. And I lived here, on Tumblr, blogging my early teens away - being not like other girls, then being radicalised by third wave feminism. Learning about queerness, and realising I wasn't just the best ally of life, I actually fancied by best friend. Discovering that the square root of happiness was hunger, (i mean this ironically, it's very much not) and documenting my ever growing thigh gap... all of it. I wanted to tear everything down. I gave this section the title of Oppenheimer Teen because I thought it would be funny, but honestly, I was more like the atomic bomb.

I'd long since been informed that playing with dolls wasn't okay anymore, it was embarrassing and for babies, and the only femininity I was happy to take part in was a half-understood Kinderwhore version of it. Everything i embodied in this era was based on Courtney Love's babydoll dresses, red lips, and bleached hair. The first time I bleached mine, it broke my mum's heart. She had breast cancer and was losing her shiny brown hair, while I was turning mine into custard-coloured chewing gum with 40 vol at the bathroom sink. I didn't want to be pretty because I didn't know how to be without being ridiculed for trying, I was hurt, and I was scared, and my mum was sick and my boyfriend was evil, and Jesus, I was so hungry all the time. Eventually, after about two years of starting fights I couldn't finish, and drinking 70cls of straight vodka while looking men (teenage boys) in the eye, and reading the communist manifesto on the 6am Gourock train home after parties I'm still processing in therapy, my mum got the all-clear. I dumped the boy who was abusing me, who by this time was a grown man, I dyed my hair pink, and green, and blue... and I met the first of the girls who would start to save my life, while we were drawing pictures and dressing up at art camp.

3. Actually Talking About The Barbie Movie

Every year that I haven't been a teenager has been better than the one before, this is something I've told every teenage girl who has ever told me she's worried about growing up, and I've seen a wave of calm wash over her face every time. I really saw myself in the angry, clever, moody group of teenagers Barbie meets in the school canteen when she arrives in our world. Sasha, who I think we've all realised/read by now was named for the Bratz doll along with her friends, tells her she doesn't represent her, she's let her down, she's old news!! This was how pink and sparkly girlishness felt to me at that age, I didn't look like Barbie anymore, and the girls who did were making my life hell. I had acne, and my period lasted three weeks at a time, and being a girl wasn't fun anymore. Everyone just cared about which Ken they were getting off with, meanwhile I'd just realised that death existed, and one day would come back and finish the job and take my mum away, what the fuck was Barbie fucking grinning about?

Her spiralling existential crisis throughout the film was truly jarring, only because I remember those exact moments of girlhood. I remember being 11, lying on the floor and crying and feeling like it would never stop. I remember being 8 and noticing my belly was rounder than the other girls at ballet. I remember sweating after a game of rounders at 10 and realising I stank and feeling like I was malfunctioning. I remember being so angry for a whole year when I was 9 that I wanted to bite people. I remember every time I wasn't being a "proper girl", and how I saw on everyone's face that they felt it too. I remember every time I realised that I wasn't perfect anymore, just like Barbie does, and that I just wasn't the way I was made anymore. And they still feel like fresh wounds, fresh failures, despite what 2012 Tumblr feminism taught me.

I've seen Tiktoks from the current generation of internet teens discussing how the film wasn't radical enough in its feminism, and I get it, to an extent. When you've been an Oppenheimer Teen - fighting boys about how they treat their girlfriends that you're secretly a bit in love with, spending your whole life placing your value in your intelligence and your rage so as not to be someone's Barbie, making online friends all over the world because no one gets you, reading feminist lit while your classmates are excited about YA Fiction - Gloria's monologue, the climax of the film's mission statement, feels like "okay, and??" And as I said, I was Sasha, eviscerating femininity for what it had done to me. But as I grow up, not a (Barbie) Girl, not yet at all a woman (I'm non binary, knowing that is vital to understanding that joke), but also no longer an Oppenheimer Teen, I see the spaces that the powerful, vengeful feminism of my youth is missing.

Every time my friends are mistreated by men who are supposed to love them, there is a beat before they remember who they are where they think they deserve it. We constantly wonder if we're over reacting to our own trauma. We lose weight through grief and are told we look great and we say thank you, and sometimes we mean it. We fear taking up space even though we can't help it. We wonder if we should go for jobs that we aren't technically qualified for, even though we have degrees and years of experience to contradict our gut feelings of inadequacy. We are clever, bright, talented people, but those of us who have a girlhood in our pasts have a unique never-quite-healed injury. It's like a broken ankle from falling off a trampoline when you were 10 that aches in cold weather even now, the ankle you always go over when you're drunk in heels. I didn't know I'd grow up and get less angry. I didn't know I'd pick my battles eventually like everyone kept telling me to at 15, instead of waging war on everyone. I didn't know there would be a day that life would figure out how to make me small. I thought I had shut up the Barbie Girl I once was by outsmarting her, but my heart is still baby pink, strawberry scented, and covered in sparkles, and it always will be.

When i sat there, bathed in pink light, surrounded by mums and daughters, best friends, sisters, queers who never got to be Barbie Girls but desperately wanted to be, grannies, and aunties, and tiny girls who have no idea how much their hearts are about to be broken, I held my friend Isla's hand and i kissed it and wiped tears off my cheeks, because we were all there, together, in the middle of the afternoon on a Monday, living not in a Barbie world, but the real one. The really shit one. And the biggest cinematic event of our lives was telling us we were right, and it wasn't our fault, and we didn't make it all up for attention, we weren't rude or bossy or difficult, we were traumatised and hurt and tired. The children we were who played with dolls, cutting off their hair before we were allowed to mess up our own, had been let down.

4. Still Talking About The Barbie Movie, But Also Talking About My Mum.

Nearly a month ago, my mum died. She had a brain tumour, diagnosed a decade after she had the all clear from breast cancer. These two acts of evil by the universe were unrelated, it wasn't a secondary tumour related to her first one, it was just bad luck. She had been sick for years, and before that she was sick in different ways for years, so it wasn't a shock, but it has forced me into a new era of my life in a way I wasn't ready for. Just like growing up.

My mum was born in poverty in the 1960s in the West of Scotland, and by the time I came along her life was a dreamscape compared to what she had once known. We had a standard, comfortable-enough, but still working-class life, but we lived in her Barbie Dream House. I got my love of clothes and dressing up from her, the colour palette of my life from her, and my internal monologue from her. We spent most of our time together until I moved to Glasgow at 19, even when I was raging and destructive, because she was sick, and because she knew I wasn't going to be that way forever. She had been a wee girl once, too. She knew why I wanted to bite people.

The moment in the Barbie Movie where Ruth Handler says "We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they've come” launched into my chest like a fist and winded me. I was holding my friend Isla's hand at this point, too, she knew why I was crying and she cried too. I know this line was likely intended to be about career and the choices afforded to older women in the past, and the choices afforded now to mothers vs fathers, about the sacrifices of mothers and the love they send their creations, us, off into the world knowing, but my mum's own stillness was suddenly phrased in a new way, and it hurt. I don't want to look back on photos and videos to see where I left her, I want her to be dressed up in pink and glitter to go to the cinema with me. I wanted to cry with her and tell her I loved her for everything she did for me growing up, for putting up with me when I ruined by hair and dressed like a maniac and cost her a fortune in black eyeliner. I wanted to thank her for laughing and agreeing when i told her I wanted to bite people, I wanted to thank her for understanding my hormones were making me shouty and introverted and weird, not my intentions. I don't want to see how far I've come without her, she was supposed to be here.

I wish I could have discussed Gloria's point of view with her, watching her daughter grow up and away from her, in reference to our relationship. I wish we could have agreed we were so glad we got to the other side of that, and that every year I wasn't a teenager was better than the last for her, too. We would have laughed at Weird Barbie because all my dolls looked like her too. She would have remembered stories about my girlhood i'd never heard, she always did when we watched films together, often in her bed while the rain poured outside. The strangest part of losing my mum, has been losing the only witness to my entire life, because no one knows you the way the person who made you, lost you, and got you back knows you.

5. The End

Greta Gerwig has made me cry a lot, mostly about being a daughter to a mum, and growing up, and I love that this film fits solidly into her library, while standing out as an offering to a world that doesn't seek this kind of epiphany out. Barbie's mission as a doll was supposed to be about empowering women and girls, giving girls a role model when women didn't have space in the world to make globally successful films about how brilliant and capable and hurt and injured women are.

It's easy to look back after seeing the film, especially with all the history lessons included, and decide that Ruth Handler won the day with this mission, but I think The Barbie Movie will be the true closing chapter to this objective for Mattel. Isla (my friend whose hands I kept kissing and crying on in the cinema) and I were talking after the film about how kids now aren't growing up with the Barbie we had. They're not getting glamazon, can't stand up for the size of her boobs Barbie, with her yellow hair and a princess dress. They're getting flat footed, representative of them Barbie. She looks like she eats her dinners and she could actually do all the activities she's dressed to do, she's modern, and that's class, it's the next step in the evolution. That means that this film won't give the wee girls we were sat among in the cinema the same gut punches and feelings of nostalgia for girlhood when they grow up that it gave us. Their Barbies are just dolls, pals, they aren't trying to prove anything. There's no "please go further than I ever did, please" in the marketing, we all know we can be whatever we want to be in theory, we've heard it all and we're constantly under pressure to actualise it, like Gloria was talking about.

We've finally caught up to Barbie, we can, in theory, have our own homes and careers, we have the right to our own bank account, we don't, in theory, have to have families if we don't want them, we can be whatever we want, it just really, really fucking hurts trying to get there. And so we meet Barbie, all of us able to actually stand without a giant hand supporting us, Birkenstock to Birkenstock, looking out at what's to come. What's to come, is more of what's been, because we don't have equality, or anything close to it. We are still aching and being traumatised by our world. By the end of the film, Barbie is a real woman, a symbol of this new era Isla and I were talking about. She chose death and cellulite and misogyny over their absences because to feel, and to be real, and to stand with the girls who grew up loving her, is more noble.

I will say though, if there's a vacancy in Barbieland now she's in LA, I have really bad cramp and I'm tired of crying for my mum, so I'll send my CV over if anyone has an in x

#barbie #barbie movie #queer #gaidhlig #barbie 2023 #barbie greta gerwig #the barbie movie #gaelic #barbie girl #bratz #childhood #inner child

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randomheadcanons · 1 month

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When Aaron and Mona meet, 1810.

Aaron liked Forsaken Bluff. It was a mostly sleepy little town that suited Aaron just fine. Additionally, because the town catered to supernatural folk, they often had warm blood on hand. That always made his journey back from the California territory of Mexico easier. It wouldn’t be long before it became a state territory, Aaron reasoned; it had too much value as a resource haven for the Union not to take notice and ultimately grab it for itself.

His time in California was good; he and Bruce always had a good time. He also took the opportunity to get to know the other vampires in the area; one never knew when it would come in handy, and Aaron liked to keep tabs.

But it was time to head home. He had some affairs to attend to back in Jamestown. He needed to check on his younger brother, Samual. Though younger was a relative term at this point; Samual would be about 45 now, Aaron mused. Far older than Aaron himself would ever get. And “checking in” as Aaron saw it, was probably far more unsettling to a human than a vampire. Aaron loitered around his family’s farm, of which Samuel was now the owner. He would hang around for a couple days, watching his brother, before leaving a monetary gift on the doorstep before disappearing. Aaron never left a note, nor did he stick around to see Samuel find the envelope. He simply left, trusting that Samuel would do what he needed to do with the money.

Hopefully invest, Aaron thought to himself with a snort before entering the saloon. While the stock market was less than 20 years old, Aaron sensed that it was going to be quite popular, especially as his contacts in New York were involved in the original market in Holland.

“What will you have?” The bartender asked. She was tall and tan. Her blonde hair was bound at the nape of her neck, the scar on her lip bending with her smile.

“A glass of A-” Aaron smiled, taking a seat at the bar.

The bartender grimaced. “Sorry darling,” She apologized. “I’ve got AB+ and O-“.

“O is fine,” Aaron assured, waving his hand.

The woman nodded. “Want anything in that?”

“Uh,” Aaron mused, “Bourbon, if you don’t mind.”

“Make that two,” said a new voice to Aaron’s right. He looked over and smiled.

Vampires, generally, were beautiful; it was a natural part of their arsenal to catch prey. When turned, a human’s most attractive attributes were heightened, to better draw in their next meal. Aaron was used to seeing beautiful vampires.

But this woman was something else entirely.

Her deep, rich, dark hair was coiled elegantly on top of her head, with wind whipped strands framing her face. Her equally dark eyes drew Aaron in immediately, and he knew that those eyes had seen centuries of life already. Her lips…her lips were a soft pink and would no doubt gain some color with the blood cocktail that was placed in front of her and Aaron.

She was alluring.

“Hope you don’t mind that I swooped in,” she said, picking up her drink.

Aaron blinked, “No, of course not,” he assured, putting 2 half dollars on the counter. “My treat,”

She smiled, craning her head over to a quiet table in the back. “That’s kind of you,” She said softly. “Care to join me?”

Had Aaron had a heartbeat, it would’ve skipped several beats.

He picked up his own drink before following her to the table. He beat her to it and pulled her chair out for her, which she took, tucking the seat of her dress underneath her as she sat.

The other nice thing about Forsaken Bluff, Aaron mused, was that he could move as freely and quickly as he desired without fear of repercussions.

“What brings you to Forsaken Bluff?” the woman asked, taking a slow sip.

“Passing through,” Aaron supplied, “Coming from California, and you?”

“Heading to,” she said with a smile. ”meeting some acquaintances there,”

“Are you traveling alone?” Aaron asked, some concern in his voice.

She laughed. “Yes.” She paused, taking another sip. “It’s 1810, after all. And I can take care of myself,”

”Of that I have no doubt,” Aaron agreed. “Where is home?”

“Italy,” she said, glancing out the window, “have you been?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “There’s so much to explore here,” he said, gesturing around, then grinned. “But I have time.”

She nodded. “Plenty of time.” She agreed, finishing her drink and offering her hand. “I’m Desdemona de Leon,” she introduced herself. “And you?”

“Aaron Shepard,” he replied, taking her hand and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. Her eyebrows rose in bemusement.

“A true American then,” she mused.

Aaron nodded. “Yes ma’am, born 15 years before the War, turned in 1781.”

“Oh very young,” Desdemona commented.

Aaron shrugged and smiled easily, “Plenty of time to explore,” he agreed. She smiled back. It was like the sunrise Aaron hadn’t hadn’t seen in 30 years.

“Well, Mr. Shepard,” She said, standing up. Aaron aimed to follow before she lifted up her hand, “Please, no need to rise on my accord.” She said, holding up a half dollar up. She smiled. “Your next drink is on me. Thank you for your company.”

Aaron nodded with a smile. “Will we meet again?” He asked, eyes meeting hers.

Her dark eyes met his and a smile played on her lips. She opened his palm and lightly placed the coin in it before curling her fingers over his to close around it.

“I’ll make sure of it.” She promised.

And then she was gone. And Aaron was out of breath.

#I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR #Aaron Shepard #my art #Desdemona de leon

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siren-dragon · 3 years

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Cultural Studies -- The Cat Returns fanfic

Hello again, guess who wrote another one-shot! Anyway, this prompt came to me (along with several others, lol) so I decided to write something for it. Also, big thanks to everyone who enjoyed my first story. Also, Haru’s outfit is based on the yukata from the Love Nikki game and I may draw something for this story at a later date. Anyway, please enjoy!

AO3 story link Tagging: @mysticsoulgirl

Prompt: Summer Fireworks Festival

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Though the Sanctuary, and by extension the Cat Bureau itself, experienced many a visitor wishing for assistance with one thing or another- it wasn’t exactly a stationary place. True, anyone could follow Muta from the Crossroads and through the twists and turns of Japan’s alleys to locate the entryway arch, but that wasn’t truly the Bureau’s physical location. Anyone who was in need could find the Sanctuary entrance, all they had to do was merely look for it. So, while Baron was not unaccustomed to a variety of clients (even if the quantity seemed to have diminish over the years), it was always a study in new cultures when a guest appeared. Even when the cat figurine made a point to be open and courteous to a visitor, there were often a few things he gained new knowledge of.

“A fireworks festival? I’m afraid I’ve not heard of such a thing before.” He spoke, handing Haru a now size-appropriate cup thanks to the Bureau’s magic.

The dark brunette offered a small word of thanks and a bright smile before continuing. “Really? Oh, they’re great fun. Originally it was started as a festival for the dead; to mourn the lost one while celebrating life. But nowadays it’s just a fun activity to watch while eating festival food with friends.”

“Did I hear someone mention food?” Muta spoke, closing the front door behind him. “Hey Chicky, you bring any snacks with you today?”

From the upstairs balcony came a snort of displeasure. “You ever think of anything aside from your stomach,” Toto drawled, rolling his eyes at the cat’s one-track mind.

“What was that birdbrain?!”

“Oh, come on, think of a new insult piggy-cat!”

Before the fight could escalate anymore Haru, now a more convenient size for Baron’s home, rose from her seat on the sofa and lifted a bag where the scent of sugar and fresh fruit wafted throughout the room. “If you two are going to fight, then Baron and I will eat this by ourselves- including the mulberries I got special for you Toto.”

Both cat and crow immediately silenced themselves before tossing a glare at the other, “You got lucky, big chicken.”

“Sure thing, marshmallow.”

Baron sighed, taking out the necessary cutlery before Muta decided to forego the use of utensils. “Muta, have you experienced such festivals in the Human Realm?”

“What festivals?”

“The fireworks festival coming up this weekend,” Haru clarified as she handed Toto the collection of mulberries she brought.

It was here that the ex-con feline grinned, “oh yeah. Gotta love summer festivals in Japan with all their fried food and sweets. Best time to be a cat.”

Toto snickered, “why am I not surprised; you only think from your stomach.”

“Shut up!”

“There’s also games where you can win prizes and some shops as well. And at the end there is large fireworks show everyone watches to celebrate the summer season.” It was here that Haru’s excited smile seemed to dim slightly, “I was going to go with Hiromi, but she has a family reunion to attend. And my Mom will be out of town during that weekend- so I’ll just be watching it from my house.”

As a figurine being made out of wood, anything associated with fire was typically something Baron tried to actively avoid. And while he would deny it fervently later onto a rather smug looking Muta and Toto, the slightly disheartened expression on Haru’s face sent a rather unpleasant sensation through his chest sent nearly all thoughts of self-preservation out the window. It reminded him of their previous adventure in the Cat Kingdom; with her clad in a fine, pale-yellow gown and wearing a look of absolute despair despite it having been her so called “wedding day”. And so, it was not 2 seconds later that he found the words tumbling from his lips without any kind of second thought.

“Perhaps we can accompany you to this festival instead, Haru.”

That certainly caused the brunette to stare at him in surprise, yet a spark of joy danced within her caramel eyes. “Really? You guys would want to go with me?”

“Hey, if there’s food then you can count me in.” Muta shrugged, finishing his slice of chiffon cake.

Toto nodded, “I’m sure it’d be a great experience; what with the lack of clients to the Bureau.”

Haru beamed brightly with sheer delight, “Thank you everyone, I’m sure you all will love it!”

When Haru had finally left for the day, a definite spring in her step, Muta couldn’t help but turn a sly grin to his fellow feline. “Well, that was rather generous of you to volunteer us for something you didn’t even know about till 30 minutes ago.”

“I’m not sure what you are inquiring Muta. It was quite clear that Miss Haru was looking forward to this festival and it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to allow her to merely remain home alone and miss the event entirely.”

Toto nodded, “I have to say, I agree with Baron on this one. But I don’t think it was that difficult to persuade you after that melancholic expression crossed her face.”

Baron gave a displeased frown to his colleague’s rambunctious laughter, which did nothing to hide the slight tint of pink beneath his cream-colored fur. Honestly, since when was chivalrous behavior become a source of mockery? And yet… the sight of Haru’s joyful smile was more than worth it.

“So, are you going to wear a yukata?”

“A what?”

That answer only made the hefty white cat laugh louder.

======================================================

“Muta… are you quite sure that this garment is placed on correctly.”

“If the picture is anything to go by, then yeah. Besides; you can’t wear a suit with tails to a summer festival- you’ll stick out too much.” The large cat answered, glancing down at the newspaper advertisement in his hands before looking back to his much shorter friend. “Hmm, I think that’s right.”

“You idiot, tie for the sash is supposed to be in the back.” Toto commented, taking the advertisement with his beak to compare the image to Baron’s new attire. “See, there isn’t a giant bow in the front.”

“Okay first, it’s called an obi and second, stop butting in birdbrain!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you knew what you were doing, fluff-ball!”

Baron was going to attempt to silence their bickering before the sash about his waist loosened slightly causing the robe to flutter open and expose part of his chest and collarbone before the ginger feline took hold of the garment’s sides and quickly held them closed. He briefly wondered if it would perhaps be better to merely wear his typical suit before a knock sounded on the door- halting Muta and Toto’s argument. The crow quickly flew toward the door and swiftly opened the door to reveal Haru. She too was clad in a traditional yukata of navy blue with ivory and cream-colored stars swirling around a crescent moon at the hem of the dress before continuing upward. The sash wrapped around her waist took on a pale blue color while the right sleeve of her dress shifted colors; with the stars now dark and the fabric white shade. Though her hair was cut short, it was still pinned back by a blue, yellow, and orange silk flower with the latter two colors matching the shade of his own fur. To be perfectly honest, she looked quite breath-taking.

“Baron are you wearing a yukata?” She grinned, noticing his change of attire immediately which only made the statuette cling to the folds of the loosened robe all the more tightly. “I didn’t even know you had one!”

“Well, Muta saw fit to inform me this is the traditional attire for a summer festival so it is a recent addition to my wardrobe. However, I seem to be having a bit of trouble actually dressing.” He answered, unable to prevent the sigh from leaving his lips at his current dishevelment.

Haru giggled, placing her small bag on the sofa before approaching him. “Don’t worry, it’s always challenging for a first-timer. Here, you just need a little bit of adjusting…”

Despite his attempt to remain calm at the innocent offer, Baron couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face as Haru approached and began shifting the obi about his waist he had attempted to tie on earlier. He still kept his hand clenched about the folds of the yukata as Haru expertly straightened the robe, to which he gave her a very grateful smile. Soon he was now properly clothed, even wearing the haori properly before Haru stepped back to admire her handy work (though Baron felt a slight twinge of disappointment at her shift away from him). “There we go, a perfect fit.”

“Thank you, Haru. And may I say, you look lovely as well.”

She beamed at his reply as she moved to retrieve her bag. “Thanks Baron. But if you wanted to wear a yukata, I could have helped you find one.”

Muta shook his head, “that would have ruined the surprise Chicky. Plus, nothing was more amusing than watching Baron try to put it on.”

“As always, your assistance is greatly appreciated Muta.” Baron replied dryly, remembering the past hour where both his friends tried to guide him in how to wear the clothes.

As they walked through the archway of the Sanctuary, Muta walked ahead of them now on all fours while Toto took to the skies. However, as soon as Baron exited alongside Haru, he grew till he was once more a head taller than the dark-haired young woman instead of a foot-tall figurine. But the fact that his feline appearance remained gave Haru pause- knowing most would not really take the appearance of a half-cat man kindly (even if people believed it to be a ridiculously realistic mask). But it seemed her thoughts were rather evident on her face, because Baron was quick to assuage her fears. “Do not worry Haru, there is a spell in place masking my real appearance. You are the only one who can see the truth.”

“I didn’t know you can use such spells, Baron.” She asked curiously.

He nodded, offering his arm to her which she gladly accepted. “Yes, though I am afraid they are only temporary. But I thought this would make our evening engagement far more enjoyable without any disturbances from bewildered onlookers.”

“It’s no trouble at all, actually I think it’s a good idea. It does make me curious as to how your disguise looks.”

Baron paused and gestured to the glass window of a shop they were walking past, “see for yourself.”

Turning to the window, Haru looked at Baron’s reflection nearly jumped in alarm upon not seeing the familiar feline characteristics she had come to cherish. Instead, the face of a young man who looked a few years older than herself gazed back at her from the reflection. His hair was a light tawny blonde the same shade as Baron’s fur, perfectly coiffed to suit the Creation’s usual debonair attire. Where once fur and whiskers existed was now fair skin and a rather amused smile taking in her slightly bewildered expression. Yet despite the disguise, Haru took comfort in the fact that Baron’s eyes were still the same shade of mint-green.

“That is rather impressive, if a bit shocking at first.” She laughed a little nervously.

Baron frowned, “does it bother you too much?”

“No, it’s not that,” she answered with a shake of her head before beaming up at him. “I just prefer you the way you are, that’s all.”

It was the second time in the past few days that Baron found his words failing him once again at her kind, yet honest words.

======================================================

Perhaps the first thing that caught Baron’s attention were the vibrant banners illuminated by dozens of lights and lanterns. The street was lined with colorful booths, each hosting a different attraction as friends and families traveled back and forth to every single one. It was a rather jarring change from the peace and quiet of the Cat Bureau, but as he glanced down at the excited grin on Haru’s face as she enthusiastically explained each booth’s function, Baron couldn’t help the pleased smile drifting across his face. “So then, what would you recommend we do first?”

“Food, I’m starving!” Muta cried from about their legs before he bolted down the street, causing several people to laugh at the rather large cat obviously following the scent of frying food. “Takoyaki, here I come!”

Haru laughed, “well, food always is a good choice. Though we’d best pace ourselves, festival food is great, but not exactly healthy.”

“Then I shall follow your lead, Haru.” Baron added, glancing around briefly with a bit of confusion drifting across his face, “I must admit, I thought a fireworks festival would have more of that particular attraction.”

“That happens at the end of the night, mainly because it’ll be darker and it’ll give us a chance to see most of the booths before we have to find seats to watch the fireworks. But we’d best find Muta before he manages to pilfer too many snacks.”

Baron chuckled, “I think it’s more of his charming attitude that wins him such favors.”

Haru couldn’t help but laugh at that, and judging from the faint cawing above their heads, Toto heard it as well. “Well, we’d best hurry before that charm gets a bit carried away.”

The couple soon found their way further into the festival and managed to find Muta, who looked rather smug at having charmed a piece of taiyaki from a group of teenage girls. True to her word, Haru managed to procure a few treats for them all to try, ranging from takoyaki to kakigori to some onigiri before they walked to where Toto waited upon a nearby but isolated tree. Muta had nearly claimed all of the takoyaki while Toto took a liking to the plain onigiri and the roasted chestnuts Baron was eating. Though Baron was not overly found of the deep-fried food, he couldn’t deny that the kakigori Haru offered was quite delicious.

As the sun soon sank below the horizon and the sky turned dark with the coming night, many people started moving away from the bright lights of the festival stalls to await the oncoming fireworks display. “We don’t really want to be too close to all the larger crowds, so we’ll stay on the outskirts instead.” Haru informed them, taking a seat beside the grass. “And I wanted to thank you guys again, for coming with me.”

“Nonsense Haru, this was most enjoyable and we were happy to accompany you.”

“Even though you had to forgo your suit?” She replied with a teasing grin.

Baron gave a slightly sheepish look, “I will admit that dressing did pose quite the challenge, but well worth the effort.”

“Even still, thank you for being such a good sport about it. And I’m glad you had a good time.” Haru chimed happily, turning to look at the ever-growing groups awaiting the final event of the festival. “Hopefully we’ll be able to see everything with so many people…”

“Well, we merely need a seat with a view; and I believe I may have a solution.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The ginger gentle-cat only offered her a hand with a secret smile, “Just trust me.”

At the familiar words, Haru rested her hand upon his and watched as the world around them seemed to stretch upward as her height plummeted to its usual size whenever she visited the Bureau. Toto then landed beside them, offering a place upon his back with Baron holding on tightly the Stone Creations black feathers and Haru wrapping her arms about his waist. Once they were situated on the now gigantic crow, Toto rose high into the air (though not before snatching Muta in his claws much to the large cat’s displeasure while muttering something that sounded like “always a showoff.”) before gliding through the evening sky.

They were only flying for a few minutes before a high-pitched whistle sounded only to be followed by a large explosion of white and gold lights as the fireworks show began. Haru watched in silent amazement as they soared the atmosphere as each of the colorful illuminations danced around them like falling stars. She a joyful laugh at sheer sight of the fireworks show from a literal bird’s eye perspective, “alright, now this is a view.”

“I must agree,” Baron added, though it was hard to hear over the sound of the fireworks.

Moving her head forward, Haru placed a gentle kiss upon Baron’s fur-covered cheek before leaning to rest her cheek against his back. “Just for the record, this is the best fireworks festival I’ve ever been to.”

And for the third time in Haru’s presence, Baron found himself at a loss for words as a pleasing warmth started to overcome his face. Yet as he turned to watch the brilliant lights display with the young woman beside him, he had to admit that it certainly was an enjoyable evening.

#the cat returns #neko no ongaeshi #baron humbert von gikkingen #haru yoshioka #renaldo moon #muta #toto (cat returns)#haru x baron #fanfiction #summer festival #fireworks #flustered baron gives me life #fluffy fic #one shot #my writing

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Unveiled

Spoilers for From Blood and Ash

Poppy is unveiled to her new guard. Alternate POV.

Read on AO3

Everything had gone according to plan.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But the end goal had been accomplished.

Swift booted footsteps echoed down the hall as Casteel and his “commander” made their way to the Duke’s office. Jansen had been explaining how the meeting would proceed; the Maiden would be escorted in, Duke Teerman would explain the need for a new guard with the Rite coming so soon, some prattle about why they chose Hawke Flynn to be that guard, the Maiden’s unveiling, and the fealty oath…

He would see her. Finally. No ridiculous veil, no mask. He would see the puzzle complete, how the eyes as green as spring, the full pink lips, the soft creamy skin all fit together. He was sure she would be beautiful, if what he had seen and touched and tasted were any indication. He had a goal in mind, to be sure. But she had intrigued him. He wanted to see and know more of her.

And he always got what he wanted.

“Hawke. Are you listening?”

He turned his amber gaze on Jansen. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you remember the oath?”

“Of course,” Casteel rolled his eyes before reciting. “’With my sword and my life, I vow to keep you safe Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment to the last moment, I am yours.’ Quite melodramatic if you ask me.”

“Keep your voice down,” the commander growled softly. “You are a dedicated guard of Solis swearing fealty to the future of the kingdom, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Casteel sneered. “I haven’t forgotten. And it would do you well to remember who is leading who, Commander.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

The prince knew that Commander Jansen was on a very precarious ledge. Being a Descenter in the heart of Masadonia was dangerous in the best of times. In a position of power, Jansen could pull a lot of strings and make a lot of things happen. But he had a hand in a number of plots, and if just one person was found out or turned against him… his own demise would be the least of the consequences. It could be catastrophic to the schemes they had put in motion years ago and set back the resurrection of Atlantia for literal decades.

The arrived before a heavy wooden door flanked by two of the Duke’s personal guard. Jansen greeted them by name and Casteel gave each a nod. Then they pulled the door out, opening up the room to the pair. This was the beginning of the end.

So it hadn’t gone completely to plan. The prince knew he needed to get close to the Maiden, so he could steal her away right from under the thumb of the Ascended. That had meant an opening needed to come available for one of her personal guards – it wouldn’t do to just work in the castle. Jericho had been tasked with taking out her guard during her almost-daily evening walks.

And he had done it.

But then he’d tried to go ahead and take the Maiden, and that had gotten him into trouble. He hadn’t known she would be armed and dangerous, and when you cross a wolven with pointy things it’s bound to get a little messy.

And Jericho wasn’t known for being calm, cool and collected on a good day.

The Maiden had gotten in a few good strikes, but she had received quite the blow as well. He’d seen the angry swelling around her mouth and jaw at Rylan’s funeral. He only imagined the bruising extended far under the veil, over her cheek and temple.

That was unacceptable.

He hadn’t enjoyed cutting off Jericho’s hand. But he would not allow Penellaphe to be hurt. And to teach a lesson you had to be firm. Unyielding. Deadly, if warranted, and definitely a bit unhinged. Just to keep everyone vigilant.

“Commander Jansen,” Dorian Teerman greeted them. “And you must be Flynn.”

“Your Grace.” Casteel bowed to the Duke, something it almost physically hurt him to do. But he was playing a part, and he could spend more time later creating enticing scenarios in which he destroyed Teerman in any number of ways. “I have summoned the Maiden. She and her guard should be here shortly.”

The Duke hadn’t bothered to introduce his wife, Duchess Jacinda Teerman. Casteel wondered if he even acknowledged her existence much of the time. He didn’t know much about Duke Teerman, but he seemed self-absorbed, self-righteous, and cruel, which was not much different than any of the Ascended he had encountered. Their unyielding refusal to “petition the Gods” so the Tulis family could keep their third son, when their first two had already died so young, was only further proof of their evil. Of course, those first two hadn’t been lost to a “blood disease”, but to the Ascended’s bloodlust – they had been fed upon until there was nothing left. And yet the Duke and Duchess would only insist on taking the third as well. Had it been one of them who had bled those poor children dry? It made his stomach twist to stand with Jansen, making small talk with the pale blonde Duchess as they waited for the meeting to start.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. And there she was.

This was how he had expected to meet the Maiden. Veiled, so he could only see her lips and chin. Hair pulled back so it was not visible beneath the veil, either. That was a shame. Her hair had unlocked something in him that night at the Red Pearl. It had been so unexpected. And then there was the ridiculous, frilly, white lace and pleats of a dress that covered everything from her neck to her wrists to her ankles. Surely a garment such as that was an affront to the Gods, sleeping though they were. This was the Maiden, pure and docile and silent. It was a stark contrast to the woman who had snuck into his room not so long ago. In a brothel, no less.

“Please. Close the door Vikter,” the Duke nodded as he sat behind the black painted desk. Casteel looked toward the older guard with the sandy blond hair as he pulled the doors closed. He knew more about Vikter than he should for his supposed station, but what was most important was his closeness with the Maiden. Penellaphe. He would need to be thorough in his dedication to win over the seasoned soldier.

“Thank you.” Teerman nodded. “Please, sit, Penellaphe.”

He watched the Maiden as she lowered herself to the bench. Gods he hated that dress. It was such a pity to hide the curves that he knew were underneath. It was an effort to keep himself from smirking. If only those in this chamber knew what she had been up to.

“I hope you’re feeling well, Penellaphe,” the Duchess spoke, a sickeningly sweet voice that felt practiced and false. The veiled Maiden nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was worried that attending the city council so soon after your attack would be too much.” Casteel had watched the Maiden through the entirety of the meeting, trying to decipher anything from the full lips and curve of jaw that he and the rest of the world were allowed to see. Had he seen her skin flush while the Tulis family begged for their son’s life? What had she been thinking as her keepers were tearing yet another family apart?

“What happened in the garden is why we’re all here.” The Duke’s voice was cold. “With the death of… what was his name? The guard?” It made the prince angrier than it should, that this beast could not even be bothered to know the name of the man who had given his life to protect their precious Maiden.

“Rylan Kiel, your Grace,” Vikter answered.

“Ah yes, Ryan. With Ryan’s death you are down one guard… Again. Two guards lost in one year. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.” What that a joke? Was he trying to imply that this girl could have stopped it? Casteel had to contain a sneer. The guards would continue to fall, if it meant getting his brother back and burning Solis to the ground. Nobody would stop him – not the Maiden, not the Teermans, not Vikter, not the Blood Queen herself. “Anyway, with the upcoming Rite, and as you draw closer to your Ascension, Vikter cannot be expected to be the only one keeping a close watch on you. We need to replace Ryan, which - as I’m sure you realize now - explains why Commander Jansen and guard Flynn are here. Guard Flynn will take Ryan’s place effective immediately.”

“I’m sure this is surprising, as he is new to our city and quite young for a member of the Royal Guard. There are several Rise guards in line to be promoted, and bringing on Hawke is no slight to them. But the Commander has assured us that Hawke is better suited to this task.”

And so the diatribe began about why he was just so good at what he did that he was the next natural choice. Fresh eyes to see new threats. An impeccable record on the Rise and experience beyond it, which would naturally come in handy if the Queen summoned the Maiden earlier than anticipated for her Ascension. It could happen. Teerman Castle had been compromised more than once in the last week. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Queen Ileana determined that they were no longer capable of keeping the Maiden safe here in Masadonia.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that his sense of hearing and smell made him aware of an enemy’s presence long before the enemy knew he was there. If only they knew how much he had to dumb himself down to appear to be a mortal man, counting seconds so he wouldn’t move too fast or relaxing his muscles so he wouldn’t seem too strong. If only they knew that their Commander was a Descenter himself and was planting Prince Casteel himself – the Dark One – into the role of Royal Guard Hawke Flynn. If only they knew that today they were delivering the Maiden into the hands of the most dangerous creature in their nightmares.

“The Descenters and the Dark One are not the only things to fear out there, as you know,” the Duchess had been speaking. Gods they were making it terribly difficult not to laugh. They were so ignorant. The pale blonde Ascended turned to Casteel now. “As a member of the Maiden’s personal royal guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. It can be distracting seeing someone’s face for the first time, especially a Chosen, and that could interfere with your ability to protect her. That is why the Gods allow this breach.”

“Commander Jansen, if you will please step outside,” the Duke gestured toward the door and Jansen took his leave. Casteel stood alone, now, looking toward the veiled young woman now standing before him. Oh, had he been looking forward to this.

“You are about to bear witness to what only a select few have seen: an unveiled Maiden. Penellaphe, please reveal yourself.”

She was too still, and Casteel could tell that her breathing was shallow. What could she be thinking? He was sure that part of her was anxious that she’d be found out.

“Penellaphe. We do not have all day,” the Duke cut out and his wife tried to soothe him.

“Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”

Why did she hesitate? Of course, she was concerned about being recognized, but he couldn’t imagine the Duchess would know that. And why did the Duke have that glib smile plastered on his face? Casteel returned his gaze to Penellaphe as her lady’s maid assisted with the chains on the headdress before it fell from her head.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark as her gaze remained pinned on the Duke. He could only see the right side of her face as she glared at Teerman and from the corner of his eye he could see the Duke’s expression fall into icy stone. Then she took a breath and turned to face Casteel, lifting her chin slightly.

Gods. She was stunning.

Those lips, her jaw, those eyes as green as Atlantian spring. He was ready for those things, had seen them that night at the Red Pearl. He’d known even then that she was beautiful, and now with her stony gaze it was only confirmed. And then there were the scars. Two scars tracked down from her temple, one over her cheek and toward her nose and one down through her eyebrow. Where had those come from? Who or what had done that to her? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face before meeting her eyes. Those eyes. They were dark and stormy, betraying the lack of emotion on her face. It was as if she were steeling herself, although he didn’t know what against.

“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” She flinched as the Duke spoke again. “Half of her face is a masterpiece, the other half a nightmare.”

That bastard. Her arms tremored slightly, and Casteel realized what she had been hardening herself to feel. He knew that this moment, where he could make Penellaphe feel small, was why the Duke had that slimy smile upon his face. Appearance was a fickle thing, and beauty and perfection were highly touted by the Ascended. The Maiden, chosen but scarred, was being raised and educated under the thumb of a man who likely took every opportunity he could to tell her what a shame it was that her face could never be pleasing to any of them. She was a pawn, a possession to them. But he saw her here, just as he had seen her in the Red Pearl. She was a person, with feelings and desires and insecurities. She was Penellaphe.

He made an oath to himself that he would only treat her as such.

“Both halves are as beautiful as the whole,” he stepped forward then, wishing he could see the Duke’s face when he said it. Her sharp intake of breath made him want to smile for her. She hadn’t been expecting that, and that was the nightmare – that she was not aware how truly lovely she was.

He gave a shallow bow and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment I am yours.” Bowing to Duke Teerman had been torturous, but bowing before her was almost natural. So was swearing his fealty to her. The ease with which he did so kindled something inside of him. He had come here to play a part and set into motion the resurgence of Atlantia, and that was exactly what he was doing. But those emerald eyes, lush red lips, and two pink scars were already threatening to unravel him.

And he wasn’t so sure that he was going to fight it.

#fbaa #fbaa fanfic #from blood and ash #poppy balfour #hawke flynn #casteel da'neer #alternate pov #ao3 #fanfiction

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jawritter · 3 years

Text

Baby It’s Cold Outside

Summary: You and Dean get stranded during the biggest snow story the North East part of America has ever seen and Dean has a pretty great way of warming the two of you up.

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Getting Snowed In

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2058

Warnings: Smut, unprotected smut, oral (female receiving), soft smut, language (I’m sure it’s in there somewhere because it’s me), drinking, cuddling. I think that’s about it.

A/N: This fic was Beta’d by the lovely @deanwanddamons! Thanks again love! Please don’t copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

**MASTERLIST** **BECOME A PATREON**

“Dean, are you sure you know where you’re going?” you yell through the howling wind and whirling snow as you track heavily through the gathering white mush and ice that was damn near up to your knees at this point.

“I’m sure sweetheart. It’s just through these trees, we’re almost there I promise.”

You were just about to argue that you felt like you had been trudging through this mess for hours going around in circles, when you saw the very peaks of what you were sure was a chimney tucked deep in the trees.

The deeper you moved into the snow covered forest, the clearer the sight of your salvation against the unforgiving, biting cold came into view. Thank fuck Bobby left these little cabins littering North America. They came in handy in moments like these.

It was supposed to be just a simple salt and burn. A couple of hours drive back to the bunker promised that you and Dean would be home before Christmas morning. What neither of you anticipated was the arctic blast that had struck out of nowhere, quickly rendering the road impossible, and bridges completely wiped out. Dean pulled Baby into the safety of the trees where he could find her once this was all over, about three miles down a dirt and mud covered road, and the two of you had set off on foot in search of shelter.

Thanks to Bobby, it looks like the two of you won't be freezing to death tonight, but you also won't be getting home anytime soon thanks to dangerous roads and blinding snow.

The heavy clunk of your boats as the pair of you stepped onto the old weather worn porch were drowned out by another blast of icy wind that you swore had grown invisible teeth, and was nipping at the exposed skin of your face. You shivered hard as Dean forced the heavy door open, and the two of you beat it inside the dark old cabin as another blast nearly knocked the wind out of you.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been caught in a snow storm this bad,” Dean said, picking up his cellphone and checking for service, and finding none before he threw it down on the old table close to the front door. “Looks like the cell towers are knocked out, which means…”

“No electricity either,” you finish for him, trying the old lightswitch on the wall, and coming up dark.

You watched as Dean pulled his zippo from his pocket, and made his way around the old couch that stood alone in the center of the floor before kneeling in front of the old fireplace that sat against the western wall of the old place, picking up a few old logs and preparing to light some warmth into the chill that was nipping at the two of you even safely inside and away from the blistering wind and snow.

“We got enough firewood here to do us through the night,” Dean said, as he stoked the flames to life in front of him. His legs bowed out perfectly in the dark jeans which were illuminated by the fire’s warm glow as you crossed the floor to get closer to the much desired heat. “I will go get enough at first light to do us at least tomorrow. I don’t think we’re gonna be able to get back on the road for a couple of days.”

“Great,” you grumble, sitting down heavily on the old couch and looking around what was going to be your little home until this mess blew over.

“It’s not all bad,” Dean said, grabbing the old throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and dropping it over your shivering shoulders. “There’s plenty of food stored in here to last us for weeks. We’ve got enough firewood to get us through the worst of the storm, and if I know Bobby,” he said, stalking his way over to the cabinets, opening and shutting them before he found his prize, holding up a bottle of Tennessee's finest in the air as if it were the national world cup. “We’ve got plenty of the good stuff to help us keep warm until this old place heats up.”

You bite your lips against the stupid grin that threatened to pull at the corners of your lips as you watched him dig out two glasses, and stalk his way over to you, stripping off his top layer of jackets as he went before coming to flop down next to you, taking his share of the blanket and snuggling you next to him so that his body heat could help warm you up while he poured each of you a generous three fingers a piece of the deep amber liquid.

You had quite the crush on Dean, and had for some time, but Dean was not the type of man to settle down, and you knew there was no point giving into this little infatuation you had developed for the eldest Winchester. It would be one sided, and it would probably only end in heartache.

You bring your glass to your lips, letting the liquor warm you and calm the pace of your steadily pounding heart as Dean did the same, letting a comfortable silence fall as the two of you watched the flames dance over the logs in the fireplace, crackling against the wind, and giving this old place an almost wholesome feel that you hadn’t expected when you first entered it.

Dean’s arm found it’s way over your shoulder as he subconsciously tucked you safely into his side, draining the remainder of his drink before pouring another, and refilling yours.

“Sorry I dragged you all the way out here to get stuck with me,” he told you finally, kicking his boots off and propping his feet up on the small coffee table as you did the same. Either the fire, or the alcohol successfully warmed you enough to where you weren’t shivering anymore, and could finally relax.

“S’okay Dean, not like I had big plans anyway.”

You could feel his deep, green eyes searching over you even though you kept your gaze on the flames dancing in front of you to a beat only they could hear, but you didn’t meet his gaze, too afraid of what he’d see there, too afraid he’d see just how badly you wanted to kiss those soft pink lips that always seemed to be parted just enough to seem like they were begging you capture them in your own.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, there’s not anyone I’d rather be stranded with than you,” he said, his deep rumble seemingly deeper if it all possible, flowing through your body and sending an uncontrollable shiver down your spine.

You tear your eyes away from the flames in utter shock, meeting his piercing gaze that seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit room as another blast of wind blew and rattled the old ice and dust covered windows, only broken by the beep of Dean’s watch, announcing to the two of you that midnight had fallen.

You look down, taking note of the time on his wrist, and then back up to his breathtakingly handsome face that had moved closer to your own. “It’s midnight,” you mumble, eyes tracking from his lips to his forest green gaze, your breath hitching in your throat as you struggle to remember how to breath with him so close to you.

“Well, then Merry Christmas sweetheart,” he said, his spearmint and whiskey scented breath fanning over your quickly warming skin and drawing you in better than a sirens call on the open ocean before his lips captured your own, stealing your breath and your heart as his tongue gliding into your lips with ease, teasing and tasting as he kissed you utterly drunk; better than any top shelf brandy or whiskey you had ever tasted.

It was like a fire had been lit deep down in your gut, and was stoked deeper and hotter with every brush of his calloused hand against newly exposed skin as clothes hit the floor piece by piece until you were utterly bare before one another.

His strong grip held you close to him as insecurities and self induced fear, brought on by the anxiety of the unknown, melted away into the warm brush of his sinful mouth as it traveled down your sweat dampened skin, and over your most intimate places; leaving a burning pleasure in its wake as his hot tongue slid easily through your slick folds.

Gasp and moans of pleasure echoed through the empty cabin, only broken by the deep rumble of his growl while his tongue worked your little bundle of nerves and lapped at your throbbing and quivering center until you were a shaking, pleasure drunk mess under his control, completely at his mercy.

The dam of emotions he’d released inside of you as your body came down from it’s high left you trembling in its wake, calmed only by his lips as they kissed their way back up to your body, and to your kiss swollen lips, giving you a hint of what he was tasting, and leaving you begging him for more of him, more of him he was ready to give you.

He slid his thick length into you with ease as he continued to kiss hot and deep, swallowing each moan and sound that fell from your lips greedily while his hips thrusted into you, deep and deeper, stretching, pulling and pushing, driving you into a bliss filled delirium with each brush of his swollen manhood through your clenching core until he was rutting himself into you in a desperate attempt to bring the release to the both of you that seemed to be overwhelming, and still not enough to push you over that glorious edge. Your body and souls connected as he rooted his pulsing member deeper into that place you never knew existed,his fingers leaving bruises on the skin of your thighs as his own body began to shake above you, his control beginning to slip, his lips parted and eyes closed in utter ecstasy of the warmth and sensual bliss your body was providing him until he jerked and spilled deep inside of you, triggering your own flooding release that left you putty in his well capable hold.

When it was all over, and your hearts and breathing had returned to a normal pace, Dean pulled himself from you carefully, using his discarded shirt to clean the two of you off before snuggling down behind you on the old tattered couch. The fire still danced across the heap of logs, bringing more warmth against the bitter cold that still howled and pounded against the world of bitter darkness outside around you. It was cold outside, but here, in this little safe haven you had created for yourself in the middle of nowhere and confusion, it was warm and safe wrapped in his arms.

“Merry Christmas Dean,” you whisper to him once you thought he’d finally fallen asleep behind you with you tucked safely into his strong chest.

Things would never be the same between the two of you again, but miracles do happen, and change can be a good thing. Right?

Dean’s lips brushed the back of your neck, sending the whisper of a chill through your exhausted body, causing him to chuckle behind you and pull you closer to him.

“I love you sweetheart. Sorry we had to get stuck here for me to get the balls to do something about it,” he whispered, gripping your hip with his large hand, brushing your lips once more with his own.

“I love you too Dean, and if this is what getting stranded with you means I’m in no hurry to go anywhere,” you tell him. He chuckled and kissed you deeply as the electricity came back on, the sound of the old TV playing Baby It’s Cold Outside humming in the far corner of the room as you fell asleep wrapped in the warmest place you had ever been. In the arms of the man you had always loved. The best Christmas present anyone could have ever given you. Your heart.Your Dean.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @anaelsbrunette @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95 @writers-whirlwind

#spnchristmasbinog #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean x reader #dean x you #dean smut #dean one shot #spn fanficiton #spn fanfic #spn one shot #spn smut #jawritter #jensen ackles #x reader inserts

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

heart of gold (chapter two)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse, sexual assault (short scene, over the clothes), depictions of violence, jonesy and jimmy being partners in crime

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: this was... more fun to write than it should have been. once again, please note that the views of that bitch named allen are not my own. hope you enjoy!! :) feedback, as always, is so appreciated!

chapter one

masterlist

playlist

------

Walking out of that theatre, arm linked with that of her cruel husband, Florence knew her life had changed. A cosmic shift, perhaps.

Whatever it had been, she had felt it. The blond performer, with the crown of perfect silken ringlets, was the catalyst, clearly. When Florence had laid eyes on him, she found herself completely unable to look away. He was mesmerizing and she was trapped yet again. This time, though, she welcomed it, this beautiful creature an escape for the young woman, from her unhappiness. Florence, looking towards her husband once more, is struck by scorching anger, largely directed at herself. She had let herself get sucked in, thwarted by her own choices.

“...His hair is much too long. And that blasted bird landed right in his palm! Wasn’t that just…Florence, love, are you listening?”

She hadn’t been, mind too focused on the ethereal stranger that had caught her eye. This has left her staring every now and again at the door of the theatre, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had stolen her heart. “Yes, of course, dear.”

“I should hope so,” he whispers into Florence’s ear, voice threatenly low. “As I was saying… Was it not utterly laughable, how that bird landed right in the performer’s hand? It appears you can now teach birds tricks as well as dogs.”

“I don’t believe there was any intent behind that. He looked as surprised as we were. Regardless, this was a very enjoyable showing, wouldn't you agree?”

“I would. Come now, our carriage will be here any moment.”

“Did you already have your… negotiations? You had mentioned this was business-related.”

“It has been taken care of. I am aware that you enjoy the atmosphere of this theatre,” he says, sharp, white teeth baring as condescension drips from his gaze, “But you realize we must return home at some point, correct?”

“Of course, of course…” Florence sends one last glance behind her at the door to the theatre. No luck, of course. The evening air nips at her exposed skin, and the sun is setting, the sky flushed pink. Stepping into the carriage, she sighs lightly, weighed down by the fact that she would never see the gorgeous actor again.

Surprisingly enough, though, it had been a rare enjoyable outing with the infamous Allen Bennett. He hadn't been overly rude to her, and he conducted himself relatively well; she couldn't exactly complain. However, she was foolish to believe that this good humour would last.

Once the couple return home, they find a wonderful roast dinner on the table, the house completely spotless, servants milling about to complete supplementary tasks. Two young servants appear in front of Allen and Florence, poised to take their coats, while James and John, with a subtle smile at the woman, escort them to the dining table, revealing a rich supper fit for a king. An appetizing cherry wine in their goblets, food on their plates, what could go wrong?

“My love, I would like to bed you tonight. Be ready after we finish our meal.”

Suffocating silence fills the room, until a shocked voice permeates it, soft, as to not anger Bennett further.

“Allen, I am quite tired. I was hoping to retire early.”

Snaking a palm up the length of his wife’s leg, the man smirks, quirked lips revealing gleaming picture-perfect white teeth. He reaches the curve of her hip and moves inward, palming her through her floor-length gown. Florence shifts, discomfort painting her features.

“Allen, please—”

This utterance captures the attention of John and James, who had been standing at attention, in case of any requests by the couple. Florence glances around the room, locking eyes with her friends as she opens her mouth to speak. She is interrupted by the roaming hands of her husband creeping further.

“You will return to our quarters, Florence. There isn’t a choice to be made here.”

“Stop touching her, Sir. It’s clear she’s uncomfortable.” John steps forward, anger pinching his aristocratic features. His gaze never wavers as Allen turns to face him, scoff tumbling out of his throat as the owner of the mansion stares back. The daggers that seemed poised to cut were almost visible in those murky black depths.

“What did you say, servant boy? Surely, you did not give me orders.”

“I said, don’t touch her. I was not aware that something as simple as that would be so hard for you to understand, Sir,” John's face is stony and cold as he locks eyes with Bennett. A smirk is painted upon his lips as he continues, treading through unknown territory. Nobody ever talks back to Mr. Allen Bennett, after all. “I apologize wholeheartedly for my indiscretion.”

Allen stands, finally knocking the goblet to the floor, a red river flowing from the overturned cup, and advances on the servant. He moves in close, a hand flying to John’s windpipe, squeezing warningly. Bennett gazes at the other man with amusement at home in his coal eyes, and John stills, returning the stare with utter contempt.

“Miss Florence was not comfortable with the way you were treating her, and I will not let you continue touching her in that manner.” John says, voice as hard as the look in his slate eyes.

Bennett, smiling now, squeezes harder, John choking on air that will never come. Florence lunges towards her husband, a cry of panic leaving her lips, fearing for John. For the second time that day, Florence is struck by the ringed hand, slashing her cheek once more. Unable to sit back and leave her friend, though, she throws herself at her husband once again, and is pushed backward, slamming into the table and falling to the floor.

James, frozen with anxiety, snaps out of his stupor at the sight of the blood dripping from Florence’s bruised cheek, and the pitiful sounds of his friend.

“Get your filthy hands off of him,” He snarks, pulling the man roughly to face him.

Allen, surprised at the uncharacteristic display of anger from the quiet, yet brutally stubborn young man, finally drops John, who struggles to draw a full breath. Florence, headache a jackhammer against her skull, crawls over to John. James, still gripping the lapels of his superior’s shirt, is thrown back into the wall. Bennett had switched their positions swiftly, catching the other’s arms in a vice-grip. He throws a solid punch, ring and all, at James. Unable to dodge, he would crumple to the floor if not for the hands pulling him up for another taste of violence. Florence, dazed slightly due to the blow to her head, grabs at her husband, willing him to stop, though he does not hear her, or even react to her touch. His eyes are a haze of horrid rage, fist connecting with James's pale face again and again, cracking the porcelain skin.

Finally finished with James after what seemed like an eternity, Bennett lets him slide to the floor, kicking once at the man’s stomach, a pitiful groan floating past his lips. Backing away after the last assault, Allen, a smirk playing about his thin lips, takes in the destruction he has caused: his wife bleeding and bruised and two of his servants injured, the rest cowering in fear, not wishing to end up like those who had defied him.

“I hope this serves as a lesson to all of you: Do not cross me.”

------

John and Florence, both sore and bruised, pull James, unconscious as he is, into their arms, rushing as quickly as they can to Florence’s room. Depositing James gently on the smooth, soft fabric, Florence runs into the ensuite to wet a washcloth at the ivory sink, and hurries back into the room, breaths coming in sharp gasps. Carefully wiping the ruby-red stains from the man’s ashen face, the woman sets about stitching him up.

“Maybe sewing really does come in handy sometimes…” croaks John, throat an abstract painting of blues and purples and blacks. The attempt at lightening the mood had fallen flat, as the man could barely get the words out. The pair sit in silence while Florence works on their fallen friend, occasionally brushing his sable curls off of his forehead, her attempt at comfort.

James adequately cared for, she walks over to John, inspecting his throat with a featherlight touch. Tears spring to the woman’s eyes at the wheezing breaths of her friend, and he pulls her into his arms. Her river of tears soak into his threadbare top, which has come unbuttoned in the chaos that had transpired.

“Florence, save for some bruises and some difficulty speaking, which are both temporary, might I add, I will be just fine. James will heal too, thanks to you.”

“My dear friend, this is all my fault.”

“Your fault? Florence, you did absolutely nothing wrong. Your husband attempted to take advantage of you, and as unforgivable as that may be, it is not your fault in any way.” John insists, handsome face solemn.

“It is my fault, John,” Florence sighs, pulling away from her friend to wipe at her eyes, the waterfall of her tears flowing once again. “I angered him this morning, as you know. I can’t meet any of his expectations as a wife, and it led to this anger. This violence.”

“Ah, yes. James was not very happy to see that mark on your cheek,” John reaches to touch the unmarked side of the woman’s face, bringing her comfort once again. “For as quiet and mysterious as he claims to be, he was all but frothing at the mouth when he heard. I doubt he will be any less angry when he wakes. Thankfully Mr. Bennett didn't hit that mark again.”

“If James wakes…” Florence says, forlorn expression gracing her face as she looks at the man in question, who remains still.

“Florence, you took care of him. You got him this far. As for tonight, that was not your fault. You did not make him the way he is, and you are not responsible,” John turns Florence’s face towards him, an earnest look on his face as he speaks. “Regarding his ludicrous expectations, you are your own person. You need only meet your own.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, John, I do, but I do not know how I can continue with this,” Florence says, furrowing her brow. “I cannot divorce him, or he will retaliate. I cannot run away either. He has so many connections, everywhere. I just wish for us to be free.”

“Maybe the three of us can run away and live in that beloved theatre of yours. I do believe you mentioned a piano?”

At this, James begins to groan, finally stirring, and the two friends dash to his side. He is still heavily bruised, but Florence will always take that over the alternative.

“Florence? John? T-thank goodness you are both alright…”

“James, we are the ones that should be worrying about you. You wouldn't wakeー”

“I am fine, truly. Bruised, but not broken. I am just glad you are both okay as well,” James breaks out in a cheeky smile, revealing his true age, rather than the mystic persona he tries so hard to show. “I believe I heard talk of moving to the theatre? There are myths of a guitar hidden there. I used to play, when I was young... Maybe we’ll have our own group.”

His playful laughter soon turns into a wince, as his ribs scream at him to stop. Florence notices the movement, and locks eyes with him, offering a sympathetic smile. James waves it away with a nod and a hand in the air, and the conversation continues.

“Speaking of the theatre, how was the performance? Surely it can’t have been terrible. You came home in such high spirits.”

“It was wonderful, John! Truly wonderful. The plot was so well-written, and the acting was phenomenal. The man cast as the lead was purely magical! I do not know his name, sadly. He made me laugh and cry and smile,” Florence gushed, a smile of her own growing at the thought of her haloed stranger. “Not to mention he was beautiful, as well. There was a moment where he had let a dove out of its cage, a wonderful stylistic choice no doubt…”

“My goodness, Florence,” James interrupted, smile sitting happily upon his bruised face. “There must be something wrong with him, there simply must be!”

“I am telling you James, he was perfect! His delivery was simply wondrous, and his stage presence was truly arresting…”

The two men watched their friend speak of this stranger with more love than she ever had in regards to her husband. With a knowing look shared between them, James interrupts her rant, a smile on his face, “Florence… Why don’t you write the man a letter? John and I must go into town for groceries tomorrow anyways, we can drop it off at the theatre.”

“Do you… do you think it would work? Would he even read it? A man like him has better things to do, I reckon.”

“I do think you should try, at least. You are not happy with Mr. Bennett, it is plain to see. This may be a solution,” John chuckles, spotting Florence, who had been twiddling her thumbs in an anxious flurry, eyes wide. “Goodness, you haven't written anything to him yet and you're already in a panic!”

“You know… You may be right. It is worth it to try, at the very least.” Florence says, voice almost a whisper, a warm smile at home on her face. Cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, she rushes to grab a slip of paper as well as the fountain pen sitting on the desk across the room. Narrowly avoiding a spill of ink across the paper from the bottle next to her, Florence situates herself at her desk, and composes a letter to her lovely stranger:

‘Dear Angel, halo of golden curls…’

------

“You are an escape from the hell I am confined to, and every thought of you makes my heart sing… Goodness, someone has it bad for you, Robert. I’ve no particular idea why...”

“Oh, come off it, Bonzo. We all know jealousy is not a good look for you. Now, give me that!”

“Fine, fine…”

“Ah, the Great John Bonham is capable of listening! Who knew?”

John Bonham, a tall, muscular man with chestnut hair and an impressive moustache, sits lazily on a theatre seat, having just finished a rehearsal. His long legs extended over the seat in front of him, he drums a staccato beat on his lap. Brash, and rather impudent, John, or ‘Bonzo’, as he prefers, had gotten himself involved in acting by way of necessity. Down on his luck in a rough area of town, his intimidating physique had kept him out of trouble, though funds were scarce. He went where the money was, and a boatload of it was waiting for him in the acting industry. He had always been rather comical, after all.

Quickly rising through the ranks of the theatre industry along with Robert, a fast friend from the very beginning, the two became a sort of package deal. Rarely would you see one without the other. Looking at them now, arms thrown across the other’s shoulder, bright laughter permeating the tense air that seemingly haunts the theatre, it only becomes clearer.

“Robert, don’t stop on my account. Finish your letter. It seems important.” A waggle of Bonoz’s eyebrows follows, and he laughs heartily at the glare on Robert’s handsome features.

Robert can only shake his head in response. Eyes floating over the letters painted midnight blue with expensive ink, Robert can feel his cheeks warm at the kind words that flow across the page, a river of reverence. Luck is not his friend, as he is unable to glean any information from the glimmering syllables that glided out of her pen. The actor receives letters from content audience-members each day, but this one… is different.

Robert is intrigued by the words of this faceless admirer.

“Bonzo,” The blond starts, golden curls glinting in the late afternoon sun. His hand raises, only to rest upon his chin. He’s lost in thought, and Bonzo grunts out an affirmative noise. The sound snaps Robert out of his reverie, and he continues, “Are you aware of how this note found its way here? Who brought it, perhaps?”

“I’m not quite sure. I believe it was already here when we arrived,” Bonzo replies, face pinched in thought. As if a lightbulb had gone off in his mind, his features light up, and he snaps his fingers. The smile on his face is brighter than any spotlight. “Though… I do remember seeing some unfamiliar guests leaving earlier. They wore servants’ clothing, and their hair was rather shaggy, if I’m honest. One of them, the taller of the two, carried groceries.”

“Would you be able to point them out if we see them again?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Robert hums, eyes far off. The blond is distracted, only broken out of his stupor by the sharp sound of snapping fingers near his ear. Glancing over at the perpetrator, he meets Bonzo’s concerned gaze. His large hand claps Robert on the shoulder, and a wry smile graces Bonzo’s features as Robert searches his face.

“What are you planning to do, Robert?”

The man stands, leaving the brunet without a response, and glides into the dressing room. Bonzo flies after him, hot on his heels, his dark eyes full of questions. Reaching for a slip of paper, slightly careworn, and his trusty fountain pen, Robert writes back.

------

Rushing into the manor, James and John search around for any sign of Mr. Bennett. The bruises painting their skin shades of purple haven’t faded in the slightest, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. If he found out what they’d done, they wouldn’t live to see the next day. On their way to drop off a suit of Mr. Bennett’s at the tailor’s, they had encountered the blond actor again, and he had a letter of his own to exchange.

Deeming it safe, John pulls out a crisp ivory envelope, bent slightly in one corner from its place hidden under his coat. James’ lips curl upwards in a playful smirk, and John returns it, a bright smile upon his split lip. He had sliced it during his fall to the floor the night before, and it served as yet another physical reminder of Bennett’s tyranny. John lays a hand against James’ back, conversing quietly as they search for the lady of the house.

Soft, simple notes shimmer through the air from the hallway next to them, and an enchanting hum accompanies it, alto in pitch. Shuffling closer to the ornate door of the music room, the servants peer in. Sitting at the sleek black grand piano, somewhat out of place in the gold-tinted room, sits Florence, plunking away. Glorious sunlight shines through the glassy surface of the window, making her golden brown locks, pulled into a loose bun, almost glow. She looked reverent; almost godly, in a flowing royal blue gown. The woman looks up from the keys, finally noticing the duo watching from the doorway.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Your playing is improving by the hour, my friend.”

“I must have had a good teacher,” Florence grins at John, earning herself a warm smile in response, before turning to face James. The ebony-haired man stands just behind John, and steps forward as the woman’s face lights up. “Oh, James, I’m glad you’re truly alright! The damage, yesterday… No matter. It’s good to see you both.”

“Likewise, Florence.”

Finally noticing the envelope half-hidden in John’s hands, the woman cocks her head to the side, confusion clear in the furrowing of her brow. Gesturing towards it, she looks up at the men, a smile blossoming slowly on her lips. Almost as if she hadn’t wished to hope, in case she was let down.

“What’s… what’s that, John?” Blue-gray eyes flit down to the envelope, as twin smiles bloom on the faces of her friends. A glance passes between John and James, a silent communication between the two, and almost simultaneously, they turn to face Florence once more. Silence fills the room, until a light chuckle shatters it.

“It seems,” John starts, eyes alight with mischief. He approaches, smirk never wavering, as he hands the note to Florence. “That your beloved has written you back. You were right, of course. He was very handsome. Quite kind as well, if his treatment of James and I means anything.”

“You mean to say…”

“Open it, Florence.” That was James, now. The man was getting rather impatient, shifting his weight from foot to foot in barely caged anticipation.

The light crinkle of paper tearing is the only sound in the room, as its occupants hold their breath in wait. Clearing her throat, Florence casts her eyes across the paper, and begins to read aloud.

“Dearest stranger, I was grateful to receive your letter. I wish, though, that I could put a name, perhaps a face, to your lovely words. You, no doubt, must be as beautiful as they are…”

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx (let me know if you want to be added!)

#robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat. “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history. “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here. “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection... charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be.

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen.

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

#queens fic #shoh #shepherds summer 2021 #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red #i really got find them a ship tag #if you think their canon pining is good HOO BOY JUST WAIT #flamingelmo.gif #tlbt

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world-of-aus · 4 years

Text

Behind the Screen - (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5,412

Warnings: smut 18+

Author’s Note: First chapter guys, i had a lot of fun writing this, and i hope you all enjoy this first chapter. Smut is also not my forte, but i like to try new things so i hope i did it justice lol. If y’all would like to be added to the tag-list for future chapters, or taken off please send me a message! Feedback is always appreciated in anyway, so let me know what you think, let me know your thoughts what your expecting! Thank you for reading!

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Hey Wilson, you seen y/n?” Bucky questioned from his spot on the couch.

Sam shook his head, “Yeah earlier, she said she had something to do real quick before she was going to join us, shouldn’t be long.”

“Wasn’t that like 30 minutes ago?” Steve spoke up.

Sam shrugged his shoulder his eyes not leaving the TV screen, “I don’t know man, if y’all are so worried why don’t you send Tin Man to go find her.”

Bucky mulled it over before he was pushing up from the lounger, “where you going Buck?” Steve called out over his shoulder as Bucky retreated from the room.

Bucky didn’t bother with a reply, they all knew he was going to get you.

You were perched on your bed laptop in hand, your fingers working over your latest post the white glare from the computer illuminating your features. You couldn’t wait to get this new post out; your newest work had your readers begging for more, there just wasn’t enough time in your day to crunch out the words that bounced around in your mind. Recently your readers had begun to get antsy with you especially behind “anon”, there was many coming after you for not writing Bucky to the best of your ability. How did they expect you to give them your best work when you didn’t know how the man was in bed? It’s not like you could confront your teammate and ask him to help you write fanfiction about him and how he pleases women in bed.

I mean imagine the conversation,

“Hey Buck so you might not know this about me, but I write fanfiction,” awkward pause, “about you, and well do you think you could maybe guide me through it?”

You scoffed rolling your eyes at your inner dialogue, you stared at the blank white screen the cursor blinking at you, waiting. Your fingers hovered over the board, but your mind was drawing blanks, the words were there not even a minute ago, how did you lose them so quickly. You groaned pushing the laptop to the side, maybe it was time to go join the others, it had been a little over thirty minutes since you had told them you would return. Deciding you needed the break from the screen you pushed yourself from the bed making your way to your bathroom to freshen up.

Bucky walked the quiet hallways passing the other team's quarters before he finally came across yours. Bucky never bothered knocking, if he reached for the door handle and it wasn’t locked, he would just let himself in. Entering your room, he saw no sign of you except for your lone laptop that he had recently seen you glued to. He wasn’t sure what had you so entranced to the screen, but at the same time he understood it could possibly be a hobby that you were working on, especially during down time from missions or training. He looked around your quarters and noticed the sliver of light peeking from the bottom of your bathroom. Deciding to wait for you, he walked over to your bed plopping himself on the cushioned comforter. He reached for you laptop to see if he could get a peek at what had you glued to the device, and a peek he got. His cheeks were flamed rosy, his pants suddenly feeling a little tighter, while he wasn’t sure what to think, he was tickled pink at the words he read. So, this is what you did on your past time. He looked over the browser, his brows scrunched in confusion, what was Tumblr?

“Barnes what are you doing with my laptop?!”

Bucky looked up from the screen eyes blown wide matching yours, “Uh, I could ask you the same.” he murmured turning your screen to you.

Your heart dropped into the depths of your stomach, face going deathly pale, oh god, oh god, he knew, gathering your bearings you lurched forward lunging for the laptop in his hands. Bucky ducked out of your way falling back into your pillows laptop still clutched in his grip. You crawled half on top of him, “Goddamnit Barnes, give me my laptop back!” you growled.

He continued to dodge your attempts at grabbing your possession, “not until you explain what this is.” he grunted, his metal appendage pushing at your head.

“There is nothing to explain,” you hissed, “now give me the damn thing!”

You continued to claw your way up his body, though for every inch you climbed you were quickly scooted down by the cool metal pushing at your head.

“Nothing to explain?” he questioned, “I think there’s a lot to explain, like what the hell is Tumblr, and why are there people writing about me and some person named “y/n” he grunted “did you just bite my finger?” he questioned eyes glaring at you.

Your movements stalled, “Oh I'm sorry, I didn’t realize your vibranium hand had any feeling.” you deadpanned.

Your eyes caught the moment Bucky’s form began to fall, being a trained assassin had come in handy, taking your chance you lunged forward getting a grip on the laptop. Bucky grunted at the awkward position, “Jesus Christ,” he grunted, “what the fuck, ow!” he growled, “fucking hell y/n!” Bucky being stronger than you pulled the laptop from your measly grip flinging It to the side as he pushed you onto your bed, his frame covering yours, “would you stop fucking squirming, if it was nothing why are you putting up such a fight,” he grunted catching your swinging hands in his, pushing them down into the bed.

“I'm putting up a fight because you were going through my personal things, ever heard of the word privacy nosey ass” you hissed glaring at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes at you continuing to push your frame down into the bed, maybe you could use this as a future reference.

“Now that you’ve stopped squirming maybe we could actually have a conversation.” he murmured looking down at you.

Dread filled you again, “There’s nothing to talk about Bucky, at least nothing I want to talk about with you,” you groaned, “will you please just leave it alone.”

“I won’t leave it alone, I think I deserve an explanation,” he voiced, “you either tell me what I want to know or we can be like this all night.” he grunted applying more weight onto yours. Jesus, you could really use this as a reference but you weren't sure how to describe “Dead weight” would that even be considered sexy, you weren’t sure it would have your readers on the edge of their seats thighs clenched, cheeks rosy, giggling behind their phones, as they read your latest post.

“y/n, doll!” he muttered snapping his fingers in front of your dazed face.

You knew there was no getting out of this, there was definitely no denying what he had seen, possibly read. God what had you even written, how much had he seen. You knew this wasn’t going to end good, “what do you want to know?” you murmured, eyes not meeting his.

“what’s Tumblr?”

You sighed, you were really going to do this, you’re already in the rabbit hole, might as well keeping digging yourself further. “Tumblr is a blog site, users can post different types of media on it, they post videos, pictures, written posts - ”

“is that what you do?” he questioned cutting you off.

You groaned cheeks turning pink in embarrassment, “Yes buck, can you please get off me, please,” you murmured.

“who’s x reader, also who’s y/n, do I know them, because I don’t recall doing any of what i read with them.”

Your eyes slipped shut, oh god you couldn’t breathe, you prayed that a hole would open up beneath you and swallow you whole, “Barnes please get off me, I don’t want to do this!” you grunted trying to buck the man off you, you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“No, not until you explain it to me, then I'll get off,” he grunted applying more of his weight down onto you. This man was a damn wall of muscle, it was useless, there was no getting out of this, a growl left your lips, “Fuck okay, I’m not sure what you saw, but you more than likely saw my blog, and I write on my blog as I answered earlier,” you groaned, you didn’t want to say it, “I also,” a pause, another moan of embarrassment, “I also,” deep breath, “ I also write fanfiction about you,” oh god you cringed, this sounds much worse coming out of your mouth than it did when the words had been in your head. “the reader is anyone who also like me sits behind the screen of a computer reading the posts, and y/n is the reader, its abbreviated for your name, and no you didn’t do any of those things but it’s what writers like myself imagine you would do.” a sigh left your lips, eyes clenched undeniably tight, god you wanted this nightmare to be over, “can you please get off now.” you whispered feeling utterly ashamed.

You felt his hands leave yours, the weight and heat of his body a distant memory as he shifted off of you. Your eyes remained screwed shut, god you had really done it now, you should have never started the blog, what were you expecting. He was probably getting ready to go tell the others what you were up to, tell them everything he had seen, tell them about you embarrassing past time.

“Can you show me some more?”

Your eyes shot open, head turning to the side to see Bucky staring at you intently, your mouth parted slightly, “excuse me?” you choked out, he couldn’t be serious. “You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

“oh, I’m serious,” he murmured grabbing a hold of your laptop and pushing it towards you, “here.”

You glanced from him to the laptop, then back, “you’re actually serious?” you questioned brow raised.

“wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t,” he murmured sliding closer to you, “now come on, show me, I'm curious.”

You cautiously flipped onto your stomach, you weren’t sure he was ready for what exactly was out there, but he had asked, and if it kept the attention off of you, anything would be better.

Bucky was glued to the screen, his eyes roaming the vast words and posts written about him, your eyes stayed trained on him looking, watching, waiting for a reaction, there was none. He was stiff as stone.

“this is all wrong” he muttered turning to you, “i wouldn’t do this.”

You raised a brow at him, “its fanfiction Bucky, it’s not supposed to be real,” you explained, “the writers are doing just that, they’re writing they’re perspective of you, some of them are really talented.” You added.

“Well yeah I can see that, but still I wouldn’t do it like this, they didn’t capture me right I wouldn’t get straight into it like this.”

A laugh slipped past your lips, “Bucky the writers on the other side of the screen can only imagine these things about you, they won’t always get you down to a T, they can only imagine how you’d be, how they would want you to be.”

“so, then you do it,” he voiced perking up, “write me and this y/n character, there's no one that knows me better than you, well aside from Steve, I could guide you through it.”

Your eyes went wide slightly, “buck I don’t think that’s a good idea, I never wanted you to find out about this and now your offering to help me write, you can’t be serious.” you murmured.

“it could be fun,” he exclaimed, “who better to help write about me, than me.” he deadpanned.

You groaned your hands coming up to cover your face, “bucky you honestly don’t know what you’re saying, you shouldn’t even be this calm about all of this, for fucks sake you just found out I write about you and now you want me to let you help me write,” you paused, “about you, you sure your arm didn’t short circuit and mess with your head?”

Bucky chuckled deeply his hands reaching up to pull yours away from your face, “Look I'm not saying that I'm not freaked out by all of this, but if I can be honest its kind of flattering to know so many people write about me like this, not that I can understand why” he murmured, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing a more accurate description, and who better to give that to the readers than someone that can be guided by me?” he questioned.

“bucky,” you groaned.

“come on doll, indulge an old man,” he teased, “help me, to help you.”

You couldn’t really be thinking this would be a good idea, but then maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Bucky could guide you through some parts of your stories that just wouldn’t flow through your finger’s right, maybe the grouchy anons would back off, you bit your lip in thought.

Your groaned your body flailing a bit as you really mulled it over, “fine,” you muttered, “but the second you get all weird I’m kicking you out, understood?” you questioned.? t.”

He grinned at you his hands rubbing together, “deal.” You really were beginning to think his arm had short circuited.

“One more thing, you can’t tell the team about this at all, it’s weird enough you knowing, I don’t need the others knowing what I do.” You voiced.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Bucky was speaking up, “do they write about the others?”

“Bucky would you stop squirming, you’re not letting me think,” you muttered turning your head away from the screen to glare at him.

He stopped moving eyes going from yours back to the white screen, you sighed rubbing your temples, you were really beginning to regret ever agreeing to this. It had been about thirty minutes since Bucky had taken a look at your most recent post you were working on, you were currently trying to rub out a steamy oral scene between Bucky and the reader and let’s just say it wasn’t happening. If it wasn’t happening before the whole ordeal with Bucky, it surely wasn’t coming to you now. You had tried time and time again for the past thirty minutes to find the right words but between the squirming super solider next to you, and your mind replaying the events of this evening it just wasn’t going to happen.

“alright that’s it, I can’t do this,” you sighed reaching to shut the laptop.

Bucky reached out for your hand stopping your movements before you could shut it completely, your head turned towards his, brow raised, “you're not capturing the scene right doll, you’re not capturing the moment right.”

Your head tilted back slightly in disbelief, “well excuse me,” you muttered pulling your hand from his, “if you know so much, why don’t you write It?” you questioned sarcastically shoving the laptop in his direction.

He sighed, “I'm not the one that has a way with words doll, that’s you,” he pointed out, “besides I'm better with actions.” he added eyes twinkling.

“so, what are you implying buck, are you going to show me how you please a woman orally?” you questioned jokingly.

He perked up, “I could do that,” he agreed, “that way you could really get into the right mindset, you could really be in the moment.”

You choked on your saliva looking at Bucky in disbelief, “Barnes I was joking!” you coughed, “I wasn’t being serious.”

“oh come on now sweetheart,” he grinned, “you would be knocking out two birds with one stone.”

“look at you learning,” you deadpanned, “and the answer is no Buck, now stop before I make you leave.” you muttered.

He turned on his side facing you, sliding closer laptop forgotten, “I’m being serious y/n,” he started, “you could get real life inspiration for the next part of your post, and also get some pleasure from it, it’ll be a win win .”

“okay that’s it,” you muttered sitting up, “out buck, I don’t have time for these games.”

He sat up with you, “who said I'm playing games?” he questioned.

You looked up at your ceiling a sigh leaving your lips before you were meeting Bucky’s gaze again, “Bucky, seriously, stop, this isn’t funny.” you murmured shaking your head.

Bucky’s hand reached out taking yours In his, “who said this is a game?” he questioned staring at you in earnest.

“You can’t actually want to do this Buck, I get that you discovered my secret, what I do on my down time, but you don’t need to help me with this, we’re best friends Buck, this could make things weirder than it probably already is.” you muttered pulling your hand from his, eyes looking away.

“Us being best friends should make this that much easier, you can tell me when you’re feeling uncomfortable and I'll stop, this wouldn’t make things weird between us, besides you’d be helping me too, we’d be helping each other.” he said his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers hooked under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him, stormy grey eyes staring back at you intently.

“Buck,” you sighed, your resolve was really failing you, you couldn’t lie to yourself by saying you didn’t want this, hell you had fantasized a moment like this for god knows how long, there’s only so much writers can offer you, but now that you were being given the opportunity to experience the real thing, were you really about to let this slip you by?

“this really isn’t a good idea Buck, it just doesn’t feel right,” you sighed body slouching.

He chuckled lowly, his body leaning in towards yours, breath fanning across your face, “it sounds like a great idea,” he murmured, “we’d both be getting something out of it, and that way, next time you write me giving our reader oral, you’ll know exactly what it feels like.”

You sucked in a breath at his words, your voice caught in your throat as he leaned even closer, his forehead pressing against yours, “come on doll, what do you say?” he questioned softly lips brushing against yours.

You nodded your head shakily, “okay,” you breathed.

Bucky surged forward his lips pressing against yours, your eyes slipping shut at the sensation of his lips gliding against your own. His flesh hand trailed its way up your body, around your neck where it tangled through your hair, his metal one finding its way onto your hip, squeezing.

Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, a breathy gasp falling from your lips. He seizes this opportunity to push his tongue in, he licks at you coaxing your tongue to dance with his. Your lungs burn from the intensity of the kiss, you pull away gasping for air, eyes dazed as you stare at Bucky his lips swollen and glistening in the dim light of your room.

Your hands reach out to touch him, fingers sliding up his torso, only to gravitate back down, his hands reach for yours stopping your movements before you can reach for the button of his jeans. He shakes his head a soft smile on his lips, “this isn’t about me sweetheart,” he murmurs leaning forward to nip at your lip, “this is about you,” he breaths.

The air around you is tense, your body thrumming with want. You don’t move though as Bucky’s eyes watch you, you wait with baited breath as Bucky’s hand untangles from your hair reaching down to get a grip on the hem of your shirt. He lifts up slowly, pulling the shirt off of you before tossing it off to the side. His eyes darken as he watches your ample breasts rise and fall. Your breath catches in your throat, you had never had a man look at you like this. The anticipation for what was to come next was building.

Unsuspecting, Bucky has you on your back in seconds, his frame hovering over yours, he leans down, his nose brushing against your chin, lips lowering till they’re meeting the skin of your neck. He kisses along the expanse of your neck drawing out breathy moans from your lips, a soft gasp follows when his teeth nip at your collarbone. You feel the coolness of his left hand trail up your stomach your body arching with it, it stops along the swell of your breast. His thumb reaches out sliding into the fabric of your bra, gliding over a now hardened nipple, the heat pools between your legs. A breathy moan falls from your lips at the sensation, Bucky chuckles lowly, warmth breath fanning across your dampened skin.

You whine as he pulls his hand from your breast, his hand trailing lower, you suck in a breath as his hand hovers over the top of your jeans, metal fingers popping open the button. His hand flattens against your body dipping into your jeans, fingers cupping you through your dampened underwear, a moan falls from your lips as he presses a single digit into your folds, wetting the fabric of your panties more.

“Mmm Buck,” you moan.

Bucky grins against your neck, his lips gliding up till they’re right by your ear, “I’m a giving person sweetheart,” he whispers, “i don’t just get right into the action, I like to play a little,” he husks, “i want to have you begging, I want to have you a moaning mess under me.” he breathes teeth nipping at your ear.

“Fuck,” you groan back arching off of the bed, Bucky presses his hand down harder against you stilling your hips. He pulls his face away from your neck his eyes holding yours, “keep your eyes on me.” He whispers, you swallow. You suck in a breath as his fingers push your panties to the side, his index finger finding it’s way into your dampened folds. The sensation alone has a breathy “Bucky” falling from your lips followed by a broken moan as his finger grazes your clit.

His fingers work over your clit your body writhing under his hand, broken desperate moans falling from your lips. A whine leaves your lips as Bucky tears his hand from your underwear, “Bucky please,” you moan.

He chuckles “patience sweetheart, let me make you feel good.” He whispers ducking down to press his lips to yours. Your lips chase his as they find their way back to your neck. He licks, sucks, and nips at your skin as he trails down your body. From your neck, down the valley of your breast till he’s reaching the top of your jeans. You watch him pull away from you leaning back on his feet as his hands reach down pulling on your jeans till your able to kick them off the rest of the way for him.

He’s slipping from the bed, his hands pulling on your thighs as he drags you down the edge of the bed. He sinks to his knee his head lowering, his warm breath fans across your mound, a shiver rolling through you. He doesn’t move, you begin to worry, maybe he had changed his mind, “Buck, we don’t have to- ” a loud moan breaks through your words, his mouth presses harshly against your cotton covered pussy, tongue pressing into you, the fabric rubbing against your aching clit.

“Jesus Buck,” you gasp body arching off of the bed.

He laughs lowly, tongue still running over your covered mound, he gazes up at you from between your legs, “ I told you sweetheart, patience.” You would definitely be adding this to your story you thought as another moan ripped through you Bucky’s head having moved from your aching core to nip at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your hands reach down to tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your sensitive thighs. His thumb presses into you, rubbing against your aching clit, the fabric of your panties dragging deliciously against it. Your feet dig into his back, your body writhing on the bed. He glances up at you from where he’s perched between your legs, his eyes darkening, “ you think you could cum like this, you think you could cum for me.” He questions his breath ghosting over you.

A breathy “yes” falls from your lips, your body is buzzing with the need for release the teasing too much. Bucky continues to nip and suck at your sensitive skin, thumb working faster against your clit. “Fuck,” you gasp , “please Bucky,” you plead, “please,” you beg. Your desperate for him, for the need of release. His thumb pushes into you harder, working over you faster, his lips latching onto you skin sucking. A chant of his name falls from your lips as your orgasm takes you by surprise, your head pushing back into the sheets your back arching off the bed, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Bucky barley gives you a second to catch your breath before he’s moving, his hands gripping the middle of your panties, ripping them down the middle.

“Bucky did you just -”

Your words fall short as he’s pressing against you again, his face presses in close, his tongue peeking out to press against your folds. His tongue dips in dragging across your entrance till he’s flicking up against your clit, the tip of his tongue circling it. Your chest heaves as breathy moans fall from your lips, your thighs clenching around his head from the pleasure surging through you. Bucky grips your thighs pushing them open, spreading you out for him, your back arches, breast pushing into the cooled air as his tongue flicks teasingly in and out of your soaked folds.

Your fingers grasp the sheets beneath you, twisting them in your hold. His mouth works over you, taking you higher, he’s alternating between your clit and your dripping entrance. His tongue will drag over your clit before it’s dipping down to bury into your entrance his tongue fucking into you till your screaming his name.

“Bucky fuck,” you moan, “please,” you whine.

He continues to work you over, moans of pleasure falling from his lips, the vibrations leaving you quaking in his hold. Your fingers find their way into his hair, your eyes glancing down at him the sight alone leaving you a breathless mess. He glances up his ocean grey eyes connecting with yours, you weren’t sure it was possible but they seemingly darkened more as he pushed you closer to release. His arms wrap around your spread thighs pulling you into him more, his lips work faster, tongue gliding quicker as he works you over. A loud moan falls from your lips as he quickens the pace, his name falling from your lips in a silent prayer as your grind up against his mouth. A moan catches in your throat, his lips finding your clit as he sucks harshly, his tongue working over it with quick strokes. Your pussy clenches, body heaving as the intense pleasure washes over you. Bucky doesn’t stop as he works you through your orgasm his tongue continuously flicking over you, dipping into you to suck up your juices. Your vision goes white as you clench around him fingers pulling at his hair.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out thighs trembling as you wind down, Bucky chuckles as he moves up your body kissing up your sweat slicked skin. He looms over you eyes hooded with lust, a small smile on his glistening lips. Your hands come up wrapping themselves around the back of his neck pulling him down to you. Your lips press against his, a groan falling from your lips as you taste yourself on his sinful tongue. You lean up slightly your arms moving from Bucky’s neck to his shoulders as you move him around till he’s flat on his back on your bed. You straddle him, his hands finding a spot on your waist as he squeezes you,

“I thought this was about you doll,” he husks grinning up at you.

You roll your hips over his slightly, leaning your body over his, “it was, but I’d like to return the favor,” you whispered lips ghosting over his, your tongue peeking out to run over his plush lips. Sliding yourself down his firm body you stop once your seated on his thick thighs. Running your hands down his torso, your fingers work at popping the buttons of his jeans open, helping him shimmy them off, your tongue running over your lips as his cock springs free. You scoot down the bed settling yourself between his spread legs, leaning down as you run the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock. A low grunt falls from his lips as you take the base of his cock into your hands, your tongue swirling around the tip. You continue to work your mouth over him indulging in the sinful noises that drip from his lips. “Fuck y/n,” he grunts, “fuck you gotta stop if you want me to finish this the right way.”

You grin up at him, you lips spit slicked, “fuck doll, come here.” He whispers gripping your arms as he hauls you up. He kisses your roughly, his tongue running over yours before he’s flipping the two of you, your back meeting the cool sheets.

Pushing your thighs apart he settles between them, gripping his cock in hand he runs it through your folds teasingly before he’s pressing in, a slow delicious burn that’s rolls a shiver through your spine. Bucky leans down his forehead pressing down onto yours, breathing each other in as he rolls his hips into you. His cock drags in and out of you, at a slow toe curling pace. Your body writhes against him, your heels digging into his ass to press him to you closer, you need to feel him, you want to feel him.

Bucky changes the angle; unwrapping your legs, he hauls one over his shoulder the other gripped tightly in his hand as he spreads you out, the angle driving him impossibly deeper, a gasp catches on your throat, “fuck,” you moan, “fuck right there,” you gasp.

“Come on sweetheart, let me feel you, cum for me.” He grunts his thrust jarring you.

A few more hard thrusts and his thumb sweeping over your clit has you shouting out his name in a breathy moan. Your back arches, thighs trembling as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Bucky continues to push into you, dragging out your orgasm as his takes over, your name tumbling from his lips as he crashes into you.

Bucky slumps forward his face falling into your neck as he takes in a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he grunts, “that’s going to be a hell of a fic,” he murmurs pressing his lips to your skin.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, right the fic, you think, that’s why this had happened, Bucky was helping you out, and help he did. Bucky rolls off to his side propping himself up on his elbow as he smiles down at you, your body lax against the sheets.

“When are you going to finish writing it?” He grins

“Not right now, m’ too tired, hopefully sometime in the morning” you murmured.

“So In these fics do like me and the reader cuddle?” He questions a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know Barnes, it depends,” you reply, “are you a post sex cuddler?”

“for the right girl,” he grins opening his arms, “c’mere doll,” He murmurs wrapping you in his arms a sloppy wet kiss placed to your heated cheeks.

Your readers are in for a hell of a surprise,” he murmurs into your hair.

“That they are,” you whisper, “that they are.”

Part 2

Behind The Scenes Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog

#behind the scenes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au series #marvel au #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #au series

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rohad93 · 4 years

Text

Moonlit Masquerade: Ch 2

If Luz was honest, her illusion classes were fun, especially since she shared them with Gus, but she wasn’t very good at them, despite her flair for the dramatic and natural affinity for a certain kind of showmanship.

Though it wasn’t appreciated back home if her audition for Romeo and Juliet was anything to go by.

Theater was supposed to be dramatic!

Instead, it only landed her in the principal’s office.

Gus was way more advanced than her in class, obviously, since she couldn't do any of the actual spells, but she did excel in the book portion of the class. She didn’t need a magic bile sac to read.

All that reading came in handy too, one of her books had some diagrams in them that looked suspiciously like glyphs to her. Playing with them on paper she had discovered that one of them was. The whole class had turned to look at her when she’d made that discovery, because she had let out a shrill screech of excitement. She’d almost forgotten about it with all the stuff that had been going on the last week.

By drawing the symbol on paper and placing it on any part of her body, and concentrating on what she wanted it to do, she could cast an illusion of her choosing over herself. She hadn’t yet discovered any practical uses for it, and it was always fairly small, but it was fun to play with. She could cast small illusions over objects too. The illusion lasted as long as the parchment stayed intact with her skin.

She traced the symbol on some paper, tongue poking out in concentration till she was satisfied with the result. With her other hand she concentrated and tapped the inked symbol, a faint blue glow surrounded her fingers before fading to reveal her clawed hand. She grinned to herself and looked up at Gus, who was watching her with rapt attention. She bared her teeth and made a clawing motion at him, sending the younger witch into a barely restrained laughing fit. She giggled along with him

Now, this would have really gotten her sent to the principal and for an actually decent reason.

With a twirl of his finger, Gus’s hands morphed to match hers and he growled back, trying to look fierce but both of them fell into a laughing fit before the teacher shot them a warning look.

She’d need to share this one with Eda later, though there was no telling what uses she might come up with to use it for.

...Probably smuggling things…yeah, that sounded like Eda.

Any classes she shared with her friends always seemed to fly by much too quickly for Luz, even if the material itself wasn't always very exciting… or she got into trouble by messing around with her friends because the material wasn't exciting, either way, class always seemed to flash by.

The bell screamed and she jumped up, shouldering her bag. The second half of her Tuesday meant abominations with Amity. She grinned to herself as she jogged through the halls, carefully dodging other students as she dashed down the hall. Abominations 101 was in a different section of the school and if she walked she was always late. The last thing she wanted was the teacher and Amity scolding her.

Amity always saved the other seat at her table for her though, no matter how late she was.

She was always excited to have class with her friends, but for some reason she was extra excited to get to abominations today, she was thrumming with energy. well, more than she usually was. She wasn’t exactly sure why, if she had to guess though she was just excited to talk to Amity, the witch had been flittering on and off her mind since she’d left the library yesterday. If she thought about it hard enough she could still feel where the witch’s arms had squeezed around her shoulders and her breath had whispered against her neck. The thought caused an involuntary shiver to ripple through her.

She was a very touchy feely person, but nothing had ever caused that response before. She rubbed a hand over the goosebumps that had erupted across the back of her neck with a thoughtful frown.

She hadn’t really allowed herself to show how heavily destroying the portal had weighed on her in front of Eda or Willow and Gus when they had come over the day after they had escaped the Emperor. She didn’t want to bring them down or make Eda feel bad, not that she had any reason too. She’d made that mess, so it was up to her to fix it, no matter the personal cost; it was her responsibility to fix her mess.

Though that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.

She hadn’t meant to let Amity see her down yesterday, but with just the two of them, alone in her secret room, those soft, gold eyes trained on her she had just… forgotten.

Willow and Gus were easy to talk to, they knew what to say and were the calm to her bursting at the seams energy…

Well, Willow was calm. Gus was still easy to talk to though!

That being said, it was just so easy to tell Amity things she supposed, to let her guard down completely. She always listened so intently and Luz just kinda forgot herself when they talked, things she normally wouldn't say had had a tendency to just spill out in her presence.

True to form Amity hadn't looked at her with pity or anything but kindness and understanding. That small touch of her hand conveyed a lot, and thinking about it now made Luz grin as she skittered around the corner, heading straight for her class.

She skidded to a halt just inside the door, glancing around the room before her eyes fell on a familiar head of mint green hair.

Amity's face was buried in a large, worn looking tome as Luz approached, her eyes scanning over the yellowed pages intently.

"Hey, Amity," she greeted, making the witch jump. Wide gold eyes whipped upward to look at her in surprise.

“Oh, Luz, you’re here, like you said you’d be!” she exclaimed, face taking on a light pink hue as Luz sat her bag on the table and plopped herself in the empty seat next to Amity. She must have really surprised her to make her turn that color.

“Yup!” She grinned, popping the ‘p’. “Whatcha looking at?” She glanced over at the large book that Amity had been so engrossed in.

“Oh, it’s a book about ancient, wild magic.” She closed the book to show the cover, which to Luz’s amazement was covered in designs that reminded her a lot of her glyphs.

“Oooh..”

Amity couldn’t help but smile at the starstruck look in Luz’s eyes as she peered at the book; the reaction she had been hoping for. Luz’s love for magic was as predictable as the rising of the sun. She could feel her face further heat up as she slid the book across the table to Luz.

“I brought it for you,” she managed to say without combusting, which was a remarkable achievement in and of itself if she did say so herself.

“For me?” Luz’s bright brown eyes widened comically but Amity could only find the expression adorable, even as she tried to stamp down the stray thought that only furthered the heat in her cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I found it in my family’s library and I thought it might be useful to you.” She gave a half shrug, as her eyes darted away from Luz’s.

Finally, and unbeknownst to her, mercifully, Luz turned her eyes away from Amity to look closer at the clearly ancient book that had been shoved under her nose, it’s hardened leather cover engraved with runes and strange symbols that could almost be glyphs. It was smooth and warm under her fingertips

“Wow,” she breathed, leafing briefly through the pages, she’d have to wait till after school to really look at it. “Thank you so much Amity!” She turned back to look at her, eyes locking as Amity had been watching her as she inspected the book.

“Sure, yeah, of course, no problem, keep it as long as you want,” she rattled off, glancing away and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Luckily for Amity the bell finally screamed, signalling the beginning of class. Luz slipped the book into her bag and turned back to face the abominations professor as he began class.

She was so excited to get home and look through the book she hardly heard a thing the teacher was saying, but she tried, she really did. Abominations were one of Luz's harder classes since summoning them was entirely dependent on a spell circle, for which she did not yet have a glyph for, but she did practice creating the formulas for the abominations. Her classmates, usually Amity, would then summon it from the pot of goo for her to see if it was right. She was making steady progress in that bit. They did sometimes come out a little misshapen or with extra limbs, but hey, she was working on it.

Maybe the book Amity had given her would help her discover a glyph for it, from what she could figure, the Blight's had a history of witches that specialized in abominations.

Speaking of, she glanced over just in time to catch the witch in question looking at her, with a small smile. Luz grinned at her and the girl jolted like she had been shocked before quickly facing forward again, cheeks reddening. Luz just grinned harder.

It was cute.

The second she realized what she had just thought Luz jerked up in her seat, blinking owlishly at her own thoughts.

What?

Where had that come from?

She glanced at the other girl out of the corner of her eye, watching as she quickly jotted down notes while the professor walked around the room lecturing about the proper proportions for abomination slurry. The skin between her brows was furrowed in concentration as she quickly filled a page with rapidly taken, but beautifully written notes.

She guessed... objectively speaking, Amity was cute, she admitted to herself.

She thought of the book tucked away in her bag, she was kind too, once they’d cleared up all their initial misunderstandings.

As top student, she was smart too.

Also cool.

And really good at grudgeby, she was a great dancer too…

Luz felt her face heat up some as her mind kept supplying her with things.

Wait, what?!

She didn’t hear much the professor said after that, she was so busy trying to decipher her own thoughts. She must have sat their for a while.

“Luz?” The quiet whisper of her name made her jerk, glancing in the direction of the sound, where Amity was looking at her with concern. “Are you okay? You’re a little flushed.”

That of course only made her face hotter.

“Pshh, yea, of course!” she waved away her friend’s concerns. “Just… a little warm is all.” She smiled, tugging at the collar of her uniform. The smile on her face felt forced even to herself, though if Amity noticed she said nothing about it, she didn’t look at all convinced though, but she gave a little nod before turning back to her notes and what the teacher was saying.

Had her eyes always been such a bright shade of gold?

‘What is wrong with me today?’ She thought herself as she slumped down in her chair.

Unlike any other day the rest of her day seemed to drag by, especially her interactions with Amity, which for once she was glad were few and far between as today seemed to be a lecture day.

The moment the final bell rang out Luz jumped up, saying a quick bye to Amity with the excuse that Eda needed her help with something right after school. Usually she dawdled behind on Tuesdays so the two could talk a little as they walked out to the front, but today she just had to get some space.

“Oh, bye, Luz,” Amity was left saying as the human booked it for the door without a second look, but she didn’t let her thoughts linger on it for more than a moment, Luz was eccentric at the best of times after all.

#Lumity #The owl house #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Gus Porter #Eda Clawthorne

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Text

Trust

Kinktober Day 25 ~ kink: mindcontrol (and more)

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

warning: smut, cursing

word count: 3,745

a/n: this is a whole mess but we love it anyways. thanks to @itsmeurchair for giving me the idea to make shinsou under the mindcontrol, I was writing it and was like... wait fuck how is this gonna work, but I got it anywas AHAHAH enjoy lovelies!!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Trust.

Confidence.

Faith.

Conviction.

Love.

These words were important to your relationships. It kept you happy, they kept you safe.

Shinsou’s lips pressing softly against yours, his hands caressing your cheeks. His kisses were peppering against your lips, so light, soft and loving.

Your hands pressed against his warm hands, your smile wide as he mumbled to you about his day. His hard and laborious day.

You concentrated on his words, figuring out very fast that it hadn’t really been a long day. No, in fact, he probably had a lot of fun today! He had Kaminari and Kirishima working on an open case with him today. It was nothing strenuous, or potentially newsworthy. Only that their happy attitudes had left the poor man drained by the end of their second hour together.

“For someone miserable all day,” You giggle as his purple locks swept against your forehead. “You seem pretty eager now.”

Shinsou pulls away, a smirk on his face as his fingers stroke soft motions into your cheek. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He drawls out, his face coming in again to press a kiss to your forehead before he moves away from you.

You shift in the kitchen chair as Shinsou walks towards the refrigerator. Grabbing a cup, he fills it with water. Your hands brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. Your eyes trained on his flexing arm as he drank away.

“Why don’t you go take a shower, love?” You suggest, your chin resting in your palm as Shinsou pulls the lip of the cup away from his mouth. “We can have a quiet night in?”

Shinsou’s tired eyes look at you, they close slightly as he smiles, his head nodding. “I think that sounds amazing. Want to order some udon soup from the noodle shop?”

You nod your head in agreement as he walks over, hands in his pockets. You watch as your boyfriend leans in close, his mouth centimeters from yours.

“Unless,” Shinsou ponders, his eyes teasing. “You want to join me in my shower.”

Your face resists a smile as you roll your eyes, shoving his face away you scoff, “Sorry. I’m saving myself for someone.” You scoff as Shinsou laughs.

“Alright, alright.” He says walking away, a whistle on his tongue as he slinks off into the hallway towards the bathroom.

Pulling out your phone, you smile as you call your local noodle shop.

“Hi, can I please place an order for two udon noodles?”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You walked back into the house and were very surprised to still hear that the shower was still on. Not wanting to let the soup run cold you placed the bowls into the microwave for short keeping. You closed it and walked to your bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed.

Your eyes locked on your phone as you aimlessly scrolled through social media. Liking pictures and commenting as you go. Finally, the water turned off, and your eyes looked at the door expectantly. You wondered what pajamas he was going to be wearing.

Shinsou had a habit of changing in the restroom right out of the shower. A habit that implemented during U.A. and had yet to die hard.

What you didn’t expect was for the door to open.

Shinsou walking out with nothing but your cream-colored towel around his waist. Drops of water sliding down his toned and scarred chest stopping your breathing. His purple hair wet and no longer constricted to the hair gel he was so vehement in putting it. It was low, fluffy, and always made you blush.

Today was no different as his eyes found yours.

You could read Shinsou like a book. It was a strong skill of yours and you were proud of it. He was sort of shocked to find you there on the bed, his cheeks tinged pink as he smiled awkwardly.

“Hey, sexy.” You call and wink. Shinsou rolls his eyes and smiles as he walks over to you, and all you can do is watch as his towel-clad body bends over you.

“Hi.” Shinsou breathes his lips ghosting over yours. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh as you press up to meet his lips. “Considering your state of affairs, I have to call bullshit.”

Your grin as Shinsou pinched your sides, a disapproving look on his face as you lean up to kiss him again.

Shinsou’s lips are frozen against yours, but it will take a lot more to discourage you. Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, your chest brushing against his as your draw him nearer. His hand comes to rest right below your ribs, supporting you as your lips danced against his.

He soon kisses you back.

His lips soft and smooth over your own, his fingers tight and grasping at your clothed skin. He feels so warm you believe that there’s steam seeping from his skin. The water droplets falling against your body. But you don’t care, you didn’t care. You can only think of his Shinsou, the way he feels against you, the way his hair lands on your forehead.

The towel around his waist teases your leg as your crawl back, allowing Shinsou further onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open to look at his face. His eyes closed, a dreamlike expression on his face as you tear away from his lips. Your lips trail delicate kisses along his jawline and all the way down his neck. Shinsou does not fight you as you roll the two of you over. Your legs straddling his wet torso as a soft whine leaves his lips.

You pull away, a grin on your face as you chuckle, “Is everything okay?” You ask your fingers running through his bangs, and Shinsou sighs as you play with his hair.

“Do you want to try something new?” He asks you, his tone hesitant, but his eyes tell you he’s had it in mind for a while now.

“If you’re suggesting food kink, that’s going to be a hard no from me,” You shake your head. “I don’t like my food touching people’s bodies, like why is that even a--mmph?!”

Your eyes widen as Shinsou covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes amused as he shakes his head. “You didn’t let me explain, dumbass.”

“Hey! I am not being--” You froze as you feel the effects of his quirk overcome you. As Shinsou trained his quirk he was able to allow people to live what they were doing under his quirk. Should it be necessary of course, and well, you two had definitely tried it out in bed before.

So this was not new.

While you cursed him off internally, you watched paralyzed as he took your hand in his, “Can you use your quirk on me?” He asks, his request is hesitant. “I… well, being brainwashed just seems so nonsensical, and I just really want to experience it. Plus, if you’re planning on fucking me anyways tonight, might as well test it out.”

Oh, that was new.

Your quirk was rather simple and handy at times too. Your quirk was called Reflection. You could send back out any quirk that was placed onto you. It was helpful for quirks such as Shinsou’s, but was, for the most part, useless if the person at large was someone like Midoriya.

Shinsou’s lifts his quirk on you, and you blink rapidly staring at him confused.

“How would that work?” You ask your eyes wide. “I get what you want, but you’re only going to be able to give yourself one command and that’s all you’re going to get! I can’t control you after the first request.”

Shinsou shrugs, his hands trailing up and down your side. “I know there are a lot of… technicalities to work out, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, per se. But could you really handle your boyfriend using you to use himself? Oh lord, this was so confusing already…

“I’ll try it,” You cave, your eyes worried as you press a kiss to his forehead. “But if this is weird, we’re never doing this again! I don’t mind you using it on me, but that’s because you can do the most with it! What are you going to say, ‘fuck me like no one else in the world had.”

“Oh, that’s what I was going to say.”

“‘Toshi!”

Shinsou barks in laughter as he shakes his head, “No, no, I have something in mind.”

You blink and your head nods.

“Well, to be fair, I have no idea if it’s actually going to work, but if it doesn’t work it doesn’t work.”

You watch as Shinsou adjusts under you, his chest rising and falling as he nods his head, “Okay, ready?”

You nod your head, activating your quirk. But you are unsure if this truly was going to work out the way Shinsou wanted it to.

“Listen to whatever y/n says.”

You watch as Shinsou’s eyes go hazy. They’re no longer focused, creepily spaced out. Your finger pokes his nose softly as if he really was not under command.

“Shake your right foot?” You whisper, your heart hammering. This absolute power making your skin itch in the weirdest and best ways. You watch from over your shoulder as his foot moves, and you giggle. Was this really happening?! “Stop.”

He stops.

You watch in mirth as your hands reach for your clothes. You are hyperaware of the fact that you can feel your boyfriend staring at everything you were doing. Yet his hands can only remain by his side. Frozen and stiff.

Trust.

Only a man who trusted you like none other would ever allow you this much power over one’s autonomy. The simple thought sending fire to your lower belly.

“We really should have tried this out earlier,” You sigh into his ear. Lips kissing him gently right where his jawline sat. You knew how delicious it felt to be kissed in this state. The overwhelming neediness that you never knew you had until you weren’t allowed to do anything.

You sigh as you remove your bra. Your breasts falling free and the stress of wearing the bra releasing immediately.

“My boobs really hurt, massage them for me?”

Shinsou’s hands immediately fall onto your tender and sore flesh. His fingers pulling and rubbing against the tired skin as your head drops in content. “Such a sweet and obedient boy,” You snicker as your head tips to the side. Your body very much enjoying this.

You shift against his body. Your crotch pressing against his own waist where his cock was already hard.

“Grind onto me.”

Sputtering gasps leave your lips as he grinds his hard cock against your aroused sex. The feeling of the towel’s fabric against the thin material of your shorts was exhilarating. Shinsou’s hands continue massaging your breasts. Although now he is partially leaning up to reach your body.

Your hips grind back against his, your smile growing as you feel his cock twitch. “Already so aroused for me and we’ve barely begun.” You tease your hips rotating against his crotch. “Go harder, I know you need it.”

Shinsou’s hips grind into your harder and your smile grows as it almost feels as if he was not under your control. It felt as if it was really happening. He better fucking appreciate you for this later!

“Such a good baby,” You moan. The stimulating pressure against your clit was overwhelming. This power you had was too much. It made you feel as if you were drunk as if you were playing god. “Do you want my pretty pussy around your thick cock? I’m sure you do… but I’m not ready to let you in just that quickly. Stop moving.”

Shinsou’s body freezes against you. His hips at an awkward angle, his finger digging slightly into your breasts.

“Relax,” You coo. As he lets go of you, you roll off of him. “Watch me.”

Shinsou’s body adjusts accordingly so that his eyes are on you. Your eyes watch him with a smile. “Your eyes will not leave me for the rest of the night.”

You wiggle off your shorts, sighing in relief as the cool air of the room hits your heated cunt. You nestle into the pillows, your naked body revealed for him to see. You look at him with bedroom eyes, taking glee in the fact that all he can do is watch.

“Make me come around your fingers.”

You watch as Shinsou sits up, and shuffles over to you. The towel around his waist slipping off and he reveals his glorious cock to you. You sigh at the sight, but you immediately forget about it as soon as his fingers slide into your wet cunt.

Gasps resonate from your lips, your hips shaking around his moving fingers.

In and out they thrust.

In and out.

In.

And.

Out.

Shinsou isn’t a gentle lover, but he is not one to start off rough. But with no mental restriction, his fingers were merciless in their speed and force.

“Fuck!” You shout, your hips twisting against his fingers. “Curl your fingers inside of me, baby.”

Without hesitation, his fingers curl.

It spreads out your inner walls, stretching you out as your head falls back into the pillow.

You can feel Shinsou’s steady breathing against your now soaked cunt. Your whines and moans going what seems to be unnoticed by Shinsou. His fingers tremble within you, and you let out a gasping laugh. “No!” You laugh as your fingers go and touch your cunt. “You wanted this, and now you’re getting it.”

His nails drag against your inner wall and you cry out at the sensation. The rippling waves of pleasure crashing through your body at the new feeling. “G-Go faster!” You pant, your hips bucking against his fingers at a desperate speed.

His fingering only increases in power and speed, your back arching off the pillows as you sob in pleasure. Your finger rubs quicker and faster circles against your clit. Fire burning further within you. The coil within you winding faster and faster.

“Yes, baby, yes.” You praise, your hips snapping faster and faster.

The sopping sounds of his finger thrusting into your pussy sends your legs thrashing. One kick nails Shinsou in the thigh, your jaw dropping as you moan. The waves of pleasure finally overcome you. Your orgasm washing over you as Shinsou’s fingers continue slamming into you.

“Stop!” You gasp, your hand coming off your stimulated clit. But Shinsou doesn’t stop. Your eyes are wide as you snap your attention back onto your boyfriend who stares up into your face. A devious smirk on his face. “‘Toshi--”

You feel your body fuzz over, locking and relaxing all in one.

“I can see why using my quirk during sex is fun, but I think I prefer using it on you,” Shinsou mutters. “Now, suck my dick.”

Your body moves without you thinking, and you can only zone in on his leaking cock as your mouth surrounds it.

As soon as your lips wrap around his length, he twitches within your mouth. Shinsou’s fingers gently picking your hair into a faux-ponytail as your mouth takes him all in. You were a tease in bed, hell the two of you were, and you felt yourself gagging softly as he bottomed out in your throat. His wide cock stretching out your throat uncomfortably. The stinging of the restricted airway burning you.

Your head pulled off before slowly lowering again. Shinsou’s praises hitting your ears as you felt your pussy clench.

“Faster, slut.” Shinsou moans at your slow pace, and you feel your pace increasing. Again you take his full length in. Your head moves almost robotically. You're moving up and down his shaft, with speeds you never dared to reach on your own.

Gags tumble out of your mouth, but Shinsou seems to thoroughly enjoy it.

“Even under mind control you’re gagging against daddy’s cock.” Shinsou snickers, but the groan that leaves his lips undermines his words. “God, you’re so fucking good at this.”

As hazy as you feel, the fire within your core is aflame again. Burning bright as his cock slams against the back of your throat. It was enough to knock you from his control.

Your fingers seize his length, and Shinsou twitches underneath you not expecting this. Your hands grasp where the base of his cock is, and you hum against his length.

“How long have you been snapped out of it.” Shinsou grunts, his face scrunching with painful pleasure.

You’re not dumb though, resorting instead to pinch his thigh as you hollow out your cheeks. Your tongue tracing against the bulging vein on the front of his cock.

“Shit!” Shinsou curses as you sink further down his length. Your throat purposefully restricting around him. It’s all it takes it seems, and Shinsou comes hard. His seed shooting down your throat as you swallow. His load plenty in your mouth as you pull away, your hand rubbing your lips as you stare at him. The salty-sweet cum still on your tongue as you shove his shoulders.

“I’m going to ride you,” You warn as your hand grabs his softening cock. “You’re going to listen to everything I have to command even without your quirk, do you understand?” You hiss as you straddle his thighs. You glance back to rub his cock against your slick slit. A low groan from Shinsou’s chest making you look back at him.

You frown as you lean in closer. “I said,” you fingers grab his soft hair, “do you understand.”

Shinsou stares at you, his eyes wide and lips partially opened.

“Yes.”

A proud smirk overcomes your features as you press down, your lips pressing against his. “Good.”

With that you sink onto his cock, a low hiss escaping your clenched teeth as you bottom out on him. Shinsou’s head snapped back, his eyes scrunched together as his fingers dig into your sides.

Your hips move towards the side and Shinsou’s hips buck.

You take this as an initiative to move faster.

However, it seems to be too much even for you.

Your back arches, your whines overcome by his own moans as you adjust to the penetration. Shinsou’s cock stretches you out in wondrous ways. God, he was so fucking thick.

“Fuck me, hard.” You say, your hips rolling out in a circle as your fingers drag down his chest. Shinsou doesn’t wait for you to get more comfortable. Doing as commanded as his hips begin hammering into you.

You feel stupendously overwhelmed. His moving hips intoxicating to you, the way his brows were set into a steep line makes your legs tremble. His hands grabbing your ass and breasts, always alternating, never forgetting to give each attention. Shinsou making sure to give you the attention he wanted to give you, that you commanded him. His fingers feel almost shocking to you. His physical tough so nerve pulsing the moans pour out of your mouth. The vibrations from his own moans are felt on your hands that still rest on his chest.

His hips slamming his cock in and out of you. His girth making you tremble on top of his lap. It didn’t matter how many times you’ve fucked him like this. Deep and fast penetration was always too much. It always was an indescribable feeling of his entering and exiting cock.

It was too much.

Your hands go from his chest to behind you, fondling with his balls. “You’re fucking me so good baby, you’re so great.” You encourage, your face screwed up as your hips come in junction with his every time. “Fuck me even deeper, don’t stop!.”

His body is suddenly flushed against yours, your back pressed into the mattress as he hoists your on leg on his shoulder. The angle is deeper, and he doesn’t stop, yet you wanted more. You craved for more. The walls of your pussy clenching in the future arrival of your orgasm.

“You’re so fucking amazing!” Shinsou curses as he leans forward to capture your mouth. His lips trailing down your neck as he presses you further into the mattress again. The headboard begins striking against the wall. The bed creaking as you begin thrusting up and down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as he presses you even harder against the mattress. Your air almost restricted as you cry out in pleasure.

“Faster! Please, faster!” You cry and his hips increase their ramming into you. Your hips meeting his again and again.

“‘Toshi!!” You shriek as his fingers pinch your clit. You shudder against his hold, sparks flowing through your body, and it’s from his touch. “Oh my god, yes! ohmygod…”

“Tell what you want me to give you, sweetheart.” Shinsou snarls against your skin. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I need you to make me fucking come!” You wail, your fingers raking against his naked back.

“Come, baby, come.” He growls, and your vision turns white.

You come hard around his cock. His relentless hips pounding into you. He shoves your shoulders into the mattress. The pounding of the bed on the wall intensifies as you convulse under the purple-haired boy. Your lecherous moans driving him as he chases your orgasm.

“Fuck!” He snarls. His face crumbling as he looks at your blazing hot face, your eyes still clenched. Your mouth open and panting. “Shit!” He slammed into you relentlessly, brutally clenching your thighs. Watching you scream for him. Shinsou loved you like this. Screaming for him and with you letting out more overstimulated and raunchy moans. He’d completely lost his control, snapping forward. Letting out a heavy load into your throbbing cunt.

“...you know,” You mutter as Shinsou rests on top of you. His cock still buried within you, your hands rubbing up and down his back. “You have an issue with me being on top, admit it.”

“I just think your tits look so much prettier when I fuck you from atop.”

“You didn’t even let me use your quirk the entire time!”

“I followed your commands!”

“But took me from the top!!”

“Sorry, love, I trust you and everything… but that mind-control thing was the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Wow, break my heart like that, and our udon is probably cold now…”

“...still want to eat it?”

“Yes.”

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou smut #shinsou scenario #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha shinsou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha shinsou #burnedbyshoto does kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 3, Ch. 2

PART 3: THE YEAR OF QUIDDITCH & MAGICAL CREATURES Chapter 2 - Advanced Tranfiguration

Nova

The school year started the same as any other. The Sorting Ceremony was a big blur as I was so hungry that I couldn't really pay attention to it.

The next day we got our class schedules, which were similar to the one we had last year except for the two Elective Subjects. All four Houses had both classes together which made us happy because it meant that Tonks, Charlie, and I would be together in Care of Magical Creatures.

Along with my class schedule, I got another piece of paper, which according to Professor Flitwick, came from Professor McGonagall. I knew it was about my Advanced Transfiguration lessons before even looking at it.

I already took Advanced Transfiguration last year after the holidays but it was only every other week and we mostly covered the theoretical part of it, so I was super excited about what McGonagall was going to show me this year.

With extra Transfiguration classes twice per week and counting on joining the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team my schedule was packed as much as I imagined it would be. I didn't mind it, it just meant that I would have to work extra hard to find time for drawing and spending some quality time with Pip and my friends.

The morning the classes started I decided to write my entire schedule on the same piece of parchment, as I didn't want to miss anything.

Monday – Potions, Double Charms, Double History of Magic, Astronomy at Midnight

Tuesday – Double Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Double Transfiguration, Advanced Transfiguration

Wednesday – Double Potions, Herbology, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures

Thursday – Ancient Runes, History of Magic, Double Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy at Midnight

Friday – Double Defense Against the Dark Arts, Double Herbology, Transfiguration, Advanced Transfiguration

Despite having History of Magic and Astronomy on Thursday, I knew that I was still going to look forward to every Thursday as we had double Care of Magical Creatures.

—

As expected, the first week went by like it didn't even exist. Charms were going to be interesting this year as we were learning a lot of fire spells. Defense Against the Dark Arts looked promising as well. Nothing could beat History of Magic when it comes to being boring, even though Penny made a promise to herself that this year she will stay awake and take all the notes and take one for the team.

Tonks and I made a bet she will last for two weeks while Charlie and Tulip believed she would only last for one.

Transfiguration was as exciting as always, even though I couldn't help but notice that Tulip, Jae, and Charlie were having problems coping with the speed Professor McGonagall started the class this year. I am confident that it's nothing a couple of hours in the Library with me can't fix.

Penny almost poked Snape in the eye with her wand as he was walking around the class, telling us that this year will be our toughest yet because there will be a lot of potion brewing and she got a little too excited. Of course, to Snape, it didn't matter if she was the best in his class as he took 5 points from Hufflepuff.

We all started to pay more attention in Herbology. Not that we didn't love how Tonks was teaching us last year but we wanted to see what Tonks saw in the subject. By Friday, Tulip and I gave up as we possibly didn't find it as entertaining.

That wasn't the only thing that happened on Friday. That morning, Orion, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain sat down next to me and Penny having breakfast.

“Hi, girls.” He said as I had to look at him twice to recognize just who he was.

“Nova, I know you were debating whether to try out for the team last year and a little birdie told me that you are rather good.” The sound of his smooth voice made me want to go back upstairs and sleep some more.

“A little birdie told you?” I asked confused as to who knew about my Quidditch skills.

“Yes, the Gryffindor Prefect.” He smiled.

I looked at Penny whose cheeks turned bright red when Orion mentioned Bill.

“Oh, well I did practice with him and his siblings over the last two Summers.” I didn't want to sound too excited as he sounded like a pretty chill person.

“Well, I am here to invite you to our tryouts on Saturday at seven in the morning. I hope to see you there. If you're as good as Bill says, we could use a Chaser like you.” He stood up, smiled, and walked away.

“That is so nice of Bill to put in a good word for you!” Penny squealed and I nodded in agreement. I had to take a mental note to thank him if I make it on the Team.

“Why did you blush when Orion mentioned Bill?” I changed the subject.

“I did not!” Penny was a really bad liar.

“Penny, do you have a crush on Bill?” I asked rather excited to hear the answer.

“Hi Nova, Penny.” But before Penny could say anything, Charlie sat down next to me, yawning.

“What's going on?” He quickly noticed he interrupted something as neither of us started speaking and Penny almost put her head in her porridge bowl.

“Oh, look at the time. I'm going to be late for class.” Penny got up, grabbed her bag, and left.

“But class doesn't start for another 20 minutes.” Charlie was now not only sleepy but confused as well.

“Girls, am I right?” I chuckled. I didn't want to reveal Penny's secret, even though it was obvious she had a crush on Bill, I decided to confuse Charlie even more instead.

I then told him all about my tryout invitation and he said that he would love to come and watch me become the new Ravenclaw Chaser but seven in the morning was just too early for him as he would have to again wake up at seven on Sunday as the Gryffindor Team had their first practice. What was I going to do with this sleepy head!

Friday was also my second Advanced Transfiguration class. As much as I thought that this was just going to be an introduction to more advanced spells and more theory like last year, Professor McGonagall proved me wrong the very first lesson.

She told me what we were going to do this year and that she was expecting me to create at least 3 transfiguration spells on my own before the holidays. She also said that we would be covering most of the theory and advanced theory on Vanishing Spells and that she will expect me to master those by the end of the year.

Don't get me wrong, I was still excited and humbled by the opportunity. I just couldn't see the talent she saw in me and was talking about while explaining what we were going to do.

Even though I was kind of intimidated by her and the amount of work she poured into me, I did well in my first two classes. She wanted me to revise the theory we went over last year and also I would have to perfectly cast all spells we learned thus far in normal class for her to know I was ready for what she had planned.

I was a bit surprised when I saw that I was the only one taking Advanced Transfiguration. I expected at least a couple of other students, if anything someone from higher years. Of course, I didn't mind having lessons alone with my favorite teacher.

“I want you to understand just how important theory is when it comes to Transfiguration.” She started. “I wish we would have more time in our regular classes to cover as much as I will be able to show you, as it would come in handy for all students.”

“Why can't you, Professor?” I asked.

“You see, Miss Blackwood, what we teach you is just the tip of the iceberg. There is so much more to Transfiguration. However, there is not enough time to show you every spell and talk about every single thing that is connected to the subject. That is why when someone starts to show a special talent for the subject, we offer extra classes to those who are interested.”

“Interested? Did anyone ever turn down extra Transfiguration?” I couldn't understand who would do such a thing.

“Of course. Why do you think you are sitting in here alone?” She looked around the classroom. “A student can show exceptional talent when it comes to a subject but if they don't desire to study it above the level necessary we can't force them.”

Well, that would be a waste of talent in my opinion. But what do I know, I love Transfiguration!

“Now about the theory, we learned last year, do you still have your notes?” I nodded. “Good. You will need them as we will start with the practical part of those themes next week.” I was relieved to know that I wasn't rereading those notes all Summer for no reason!

After my lesson, I hurried down to the Great Hall to catch what was now the last 15 minutes of dinner. I sat down next to Charlie who was looking towards the Slytherin Table and chuckling.

“What did I miss?” I put some mashed potatoes on my plate.

“Bill is losing it with the Slytherins. They pranked their Prefects this morning and they are both in the Hospital Wing so Bill had to intervene as they were causing quite a racket there.” He continued chuckling. Apparently, seeing Bill losing his mind was amusing to him. “Of course, Tulip, Tonks, and Jae are already making friends with the Slytherins that put the Prefects down.” He continued.

“Of course, they are.” I laughed.

“How was your Advanced Transfiguration class?” He now turned to me, giving me his undivided attention.

“It is going to be a busy year let me just tell you that.” I made a worried face.

“I think you're going to do great! You're smart, your amazing and talented. There's nothing McGonagall teaches you that you can't handle.” He grinned and I felt my cheeks turn pink.

“Where is Penny?” I looked around as I realized that she is the only one from our group that's not in the Great Hall.

“Oh, she mumbled something about going to the Library. Is she okay, she seemed a little off, just like this morning?” Charlie looked worried.

“Who were you having dinner with when she decided to go to the Library?” I asked even though I knew where this was going.

“The usual. Me, Tonks, Tulip and Jae. Bill joined us for a split second before he ran to shout at the Slytherins.” He chuckled again, still finding it amusing.

So she ran to the Library because Bill showed up!

“What are you smiling about?” Charlie asked. I didn't even know I was smiling.

“Oh, nothing!” I relaxed my face and continued eating.

I didn't know if I should go to the Library and talk to Penny or should I just leave her be and not discuss her feelings and not make a big deal out of it. I mean it wasn't a big deal. So she had a crush on Bill, he is kind of cute, I suppose. I didn't put much thought into it and with the schedule, I was having, it looked like I wasn't going to have the time to think about crushes this year.

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